Yesterday I was talking about travel and Paris and saying that I still want to go to the Louvre and that church. What’s it called? You know. The one with the hunchback of Notre Dame….!
And this leads me nicely on to the time Geri booked a holiday – flights and hotel – to Spain. When they landed at the airport her husband asked:
“Geri. What language are they speaking?”
“Spanish I suppose”
“I think you’ll find its Italian”
She’d booked Genoa in Italy instead of Gerona in Spain. Still, it could have been worse, she could have booked Genaveh in Iran.
When we told a colleague we were going to Mexico together he found this hysterical. He said it would be like “locked up abroad” but he would make placards and campaign to “save the NHS two” (after a couple of days of laughing). I told Geri she was not bringing any statues home, no matter how good looking he was. She told me she wasn’t going to prison alone and would therefore say I was in on it too. We laughed and joked that we would have to take our Madonna bra’s and learn the lyrics to “like a Virgin”. A week before the holiday, I had a body shop party at home. We were drinking and laughing about our trip and the lock up possibility and Geri stated “of course I’ll take her with me, I’m not going to a Thai prison alone!” Nor am I. we’re going to bloody Mexico.