It's a Potato Mine

I realise that my blog is in severe danger of becoming 'Grumpy Old Woman on Holiday," but I am going to have a little rant anyway. Who knows, I might have a daily rant just to make myself feel at home. 

I'm not very good with the 'swarm' instinct, it tends to make me a bit uncomfortable. I like to believe that I have free will, that I don't have to  follow the crowd. A lot of people love to swarm and I confess you will find me joining the swarm on the dance floor at a party when YMCA is played. Package holiday swarms, however, are quite another thing.

We are currently sitting on a bus, which has stopped for a 'comfort break', an hour into our 1 1/2 hour journey to our hotel. I wouldn't feel at all grumpy if someone had needed the loo but we were told this would be happening at the start of our journey. Cynics that the LSH and I are we have interpreted this break as, "we will now stop somewhere where you can buy food, drink and fake handbags from a kind relative of Ischmal the driver, who gives Thomas Cook a percentage of everything sold." This information about our stop wasn't given until after they sold us water, phone card, currency converter charts and told us that we HAD to attend the welcome meeting, where we could be sold a whole range of trips. "We literally have something for everyone," droned Maureen.

In truth, Maureen, you don't have what I want. A quick journey and peace an quiet to read my book. "Let me tell you about Dalaman. It's a potato mine," continued Maureen. Slightly interested and beginning to forgive Mo for her incessant chatter I leant over to the LSH and said, "A potato mine, that's interesting. I wonder why the mine them and don't just grow them like everyone else?"

" I think she said pet hate of mine," he replied with a smirk.