If all else fails, you could take a break from the holidays

CONVERSATIONS WITH HIMSELF: Going on holidays is stressful. Coming home from holidays is stressful

CONVERSATIONS WITH HIMSELF:Going on holidays is stressful. Coming home from holidays is stressful. And don't get Karl MacDermottstarted on the bits in between

THE BAGS are packed for the holidays. All set to go away. In three weeks. You were always an early planner.

I was. Always like to have things prepared well in advance. If you have everything packed three weeks before you go away, it's one less thing to worry about. Trouble is, you are only two days into your holidays when you are already packing to go home.

I wouldn't be a natural traveller. Sometimes I wonder what's the point in going away when all you're doing is coming back again. See new sights. Experience new things. Break up the monotony of your pathetic life.

READ MORE

Don't knock monotony. Don't knock pathetic. There's something to be said for a monotonous pathetic life. You won't get eaten by a shark in your monotonous, pathetic life. You are off to Madrid. The middle of Spain. There are no sharks there.

Well, you know what I mean. Less bad stuff can happen. Bad stuff happens all the time.

Unknown bad stuff. In a very hot climate. In a different language. So you don't mind bad stuff happening to you as long as it is in English and it is raining?

Yeah. Familiar bad stuff I can handle. Unfamiliar bad stuff I like to avoid. But sure, you know Spain quite well at this stage.

I do. Well, enough to know that if you tell them you are suffering from constipado they think you have a head cold. That wasn't that chemist's fault. It was just a very unlucky linguistic misunderstanding.

But this is what I'm talking about - unfamiliar bad stuff. I kept telling Majella that those laxative tablets tasted like cough drops. Okay, so one holiday was a little stressful. But you've had good ones. New York 1998?

The Great Greenwich Village Nosebleed after a fist-fight with a waiter over non-payment of a tip. Stockholm 2002?

The Underhanded Accommodation Scam. You've booked into a hotel for a week, but when you check-in you have to pay the whole bill in advance, before you see the room. The room was fine. I would describe it as a box-like representation of Scandinavian gloom. What about Sicily 2004?

The Major Mosquito Wars of Palermo. I ended up looking like a 40-year-old with chickenpox, walking around in shorts. You forgot to mention the socks and the sandals.

I had to wear socks with my sandals. I get blisters without the socks because I never get a chance to wear sandals in this country. You looked silly. Shut up. There's nothing sadder than a grown man in shorts, socks and sandals. At least I didn't wear the handkerchief on my head. No, you wore that ill-filling cut-price sombrero.

Only for one day. Until I was beaten up and robbed by those street kids. To avoid all the worry and the possibility of unfamiliar bad stuff happening, why not just go for a holiday here in Ireland? What's the matter? You are very quiet all of a sudden.

I can't believe you asked that question. And I should not have to dignify it with a response. Why would I spend exorbitant amounts of money I do not have, going somewhere that is very like the place I already am, only more expensive and much wetter. You don't want to go on holidays abroad. You don't want to go on holidays here. Then why go on holidays at all?

That's a very good point. Maybe it's time to unpack those bags. I have three weeks to think about it.

Displaced in Mullingar will resume in September