Modern life
It sounds so appealing but it can throw up all sorts of surprises, says Fiona Gibson
Many years ago, a group of friends and I went on a winter holiday to France.
While this might throw up glamorous images of us swooshing down the slopes at Val-d’Isère, we were actually staying in a rickety farmhouse deep in the Burgundy countryside. With its rattling shutters and leaking roof, it was charming in a condemned French cottage kind of way – and bitterly cold. But we’d get through it, right? We’d light the fire, drink wine and have a wonderful time.
That’s what we did, cheerfully making the best of things, apart from Jo, who was a good friend back home but seemed to have undergone a personality transplant in rural France. Having commandeered the armchair next to the fireplace, she hogged the heat and refused to let the rest of us near it. As a storm raged and shutters banged, she whinged like a child who’d been dragged along against her will.
Everyone mucked in, except Jo. As we cooked meal after meal, resentment built up until Princess Jo announced that she would make something. And no, she didn’t want any help. Locking herself in the kitchen for several hours, the sound of clattering suggested we were in for a warming casserole and a plethora of side dishes. All would be forgiven! She finally emerged with a kidney bean dip, leaving the kitchen strewn with empty cans and splattered with purple juice. The celebrated dip didn’t quite deliver the taste bud hit – and the clean-up op was clearly not in this chef’s remit.
THE BIG REVEAL
After that, I vowed to never again go on holiday with someone I wasn’t romantically involved with, but of course I have. And some of my best jaunts have been with friends – Crete with Cheryl; Ibiza with a big bunch of pals; Cuba, San Francisco with Jen. The difference is, these friends and I are similar in our holiday attitudes. We love to explore and chill out, we all muck in, we share the planning and are allergic to whingers. But misjudge it, and a trip can be wrecked.
Personality quirks that are acceptable on home turf seem amplified on holiday.
You’re essentially trapped together with no escape. Before you know it you’ve adopted the manner of an animal behaviourist: ‘How interesting that Chrissie has to check out the menus of 27 restaurants before she’ll agree on somewhere to eat.’ By which time you’re almost weeping with hunger. It’s like being lured into a Big Brother-type experiment with people you’d never hang out with otherwise. How had you missed the fact that your dear friend is a control freak or the kind of person who shouts at waiters on foreign soil?
Of course, lovely personality traits can also bubble to the surface on holiday.
Going away with a group, I’ve been delighted to fin
