The society with which I went to Krakow last spring is organising another trip, this time to Madrid. As ever, the Sage declined my invitation to accompany me – delightful as he finds my company, a chap does need a few days break once in a while, if only to appreciate me the more on my return. There was a rather swingeing single room surcharge, so I asked if anyone was looking for someone to share with, and there was.
I know her, and she is friendly and delightful, but we’ve never had more than the briefest chat and I dithered all weekend about ringing her; for two reasons – one, did I want to share with her and two, did she want to share with me, and might I be putting her badly on the spot by asking? In the end I thought, sod it, it’s a saving of over a hundred pounds for four nights and I like her, and so I rang her.
J was really pleased I’d phoned and will be delighted to share with me. We’ve both promised not to snore. It feels slightly weird, but then I shared a room with Wink and the Bod on the ferry to France in October and none of my bedroom arrangements will ever seem odder than that.
J’s husband died earlier this year and she has been on holiday with friends since and she said the loneliest part was going back to the bedroom alone, at the end of the day to dress for dinner. This hadn’t put her off another trip, but she’ll be glad of my company.