times. Sitting down with friends and family and telling all about our foreign adventures. Spreading out a crinkly map . . . describing sunrises over mountains . . . looking at the avid faces . . . listening to the gasps of admiration. . . .
Except that now it’s actually happening, it isn’t going quite like I imagined.
“Did you go to Tenerife?” Janice keeps interrupting as I try to describe wading through the Amazon. “Or Majorca? You can get some lovely packages. . . .”
“Er . . . no,” I say, feeling a twinge of annoyance. “We went to Africa . . . India . . .” I spread my arms. “Everywhere!”
“I can’t stand the heat.” Janice shakes her head. “Never could. Even in Florida.” She suddenly brightens. “Did you go to Disneyland?”
“Er . . . no.”
“Oh well.” Janice looks sympathetic. “Never mind. Maybe next time!”
Next time? What, next time we spend ten months traveling round the world?
“It certainly sounds like a lovely holiday,” she adds encouragingly.
It wasn’t a
holiday
! I want to exclaim. It was a
traveling experience
! Honestly. I bet when Christopher Columbus came back from America, people didn’t meet him off the boat with “Ooh, Christopher, did you go to Disneyland?”
I glance up at Mum and Dad, but they’re not even listening. They’re standing by the sink, and Mum’s murmuring something to Dad.
I don’t like this. There is definitely something going on. I glance at Luke, and he’s watching Mum and Dad too.
“We brought you presents!” I exclaim loudly, reaching for my carrier bag. “Mum! Dad! Have a look!”
With some difficulty I pull out the South American mask and present it to Mum. It’s in the shape of a dog’s face, with big teeth and huge circular eyes, and I have to say, it looks pretty impressive.
“I brought it all the way back from Paraguay!” I add with a glow of pride.
I feel like such an explorer! Here I am, bringing rare artifacts of the indigenous South American culture to Oxshott. I mean, how many people in Britain have even
seen
one of these? Maybe a museum will ask to borrow it for an exhibition or something!
“Goodness!” says Mum, turning it over a little nervously. “What is it?”
“It’s a traditional ritual mask made by Chiriguano Indians, isn’t it?” Janice says brightly.
“Have you been to Paraguay, Janice?” I say, taken aback.
“Oh no, love.” She takes a sip of coffee. “I’ve seen them in John Lewis.”
For a moment I can’t quite speak.
“You’ve seen them in . . . John Lewis?” I say at last.
“In Kingston. The gift department.” She beams. “You can buy everything in John Lewis these days!”
“Never knowingly undersold,” chimes in Mum.
I do not believe this. I’ve lugged this mask approximately six thousand miles around the globe. It was supposed to be a rare and exotic treasure. And all the time it’s been on sale at bloody John Lewis.
Mum glimpses my face.
“But yours will be the real thing, love!” she says quickly. “We’ll put it on the mantelpiece next to Dad’s golf trophy!”
“OK,” I say a bit gloomily. I glance up at Dad, and he’s still staring out the window, not listening to a word. Maybe I’ll give him his present later.
“So, what’s been happening here?” I say, taking a cup of coffee from Mum. “How’s Martin? And Tom?” I ask Janice.
“Both well, thank you!” says Janice. “Tom’s living with us for a while.”
“Ah.” I give an understanding nod.
Tom is Janice and Martin’s son, and he’s had a bit of a disaster with his marriage. His wife, Lucy, left him, basically because he wouldn’t have a tattoo done to match hers.
“They’ve sold their house,” Janice says, looking wistful. “Did very well out of it, actually.”
“And is he OK?”
Mum and Janice exchange looks.
“He’s been throwing himself into his hobbies,” Janice says at last. “Keeping himself busy. His new thing is woodworking. He’s made all
Except that now it’s actually happening, it isn’t going quite like I imagined.
“Did you go to Tenerife?” Janice keeps interrupting as I try to describe wading through the Amazon. “Or Majorca? You can get some lovely packages. . . .”
“Er . . . no,” I say, feeling a twinge of annoyance. “We went to Africa . . . India . . .” I spread my arms. “Everywhere!”
“I can’t stand the heat.” Janice shakes her head. “Never could. Even in Florida.” She suddenly brightens. “Did you go to Disneyland?”
“Er . . . no.”
“Oh well.” Janice looks sympathetic. “Never mind. Maybe next time!”
Next time? What, next time we spend ten months traveling round the world?
“It certainly sounds like a lovely holiday,” she adds encouragingly.
It wasn’t a
holiday
! I want to exclaim. It was a
traveling experience
! Honestly. I bet when Christopher Columbus came back from America, people didn’t meet him off the boat with “Ooh, Christopher, did you go to Disneyland?”
I glance up at Mum and Dad, but they’re not even listening. They’re standing by the sink, and Mum’s murmuring something to Dad.
I don’t like this. There is definitely something going on. I glance at Luke, and he’s watching Mum and Dad too.
“We brought you presents!” I exclaim loudly, reaching for my carrier bag. “Mum! Dad! Have a look!”
With some difficulty I pull out the South American mask and present it to Mum. It’s in the shape of a dog’s face, with big teeth and huge circular eyes, and I have to say, it looks pretty impressive.
“I brought it all the way back from Paraguay!” I add with a glow of pride.
I feel like such an explorer! Here I am, bringing rare artifacts of the indigenous South American culture to Oxshott. I mean, how many people in Britain have even
seen
one of these? Maybe a museum will ask to borrow it for an exhibition or something!
“Goodness!” says Mum, turning it over a little nervously. “What is it?”
“It’s a traditional ritual mask made by Chiriguano Indians, isn’t it?” Janice says brightly.
“Have you been to Paraguay, Janice?” I say, taken aback.
“Oh no, love.” She takes a sip of coffee. “I’ve seen them in John Lewis.”
For a moment I can’t quite speak.
“You’ve seen them in . . . John Lewis?” I say at last.
“In Kingston. The gift department.” She beams. “You can buy everything in John Lewis these days!”
“Never knowingly undersold,” chimes in Mum.
I do not believe this. I’ve lugged this mask approximately six thousand miles around the globe. It was supposed to be a rare and exotic treasure. And all the time it’s been on sale at bloody John Lewis.
Mum glimpses my face.
“But yours will be the real thing, love!” she says quickly. “We’ll put it on the mantelpiece next to Dad’s golf trophy!”
“OK,” I say a bit gloomily. I glance up at Dad, and he’s still staring out the window, not listening to a word. Maybe I’ll give him his present later.
“So, what’s been happening here?” I say, taking a cup of coffee from Mum. “How’s Martin? And Tom?” I ask Janice.
“Both well, thank you!” says Janice. “Tom’s living with us for a while.”
“Ah.” I give an understanding nod.
Tom is Janice and Martin’s son, and he’s had a bit of a disaster with his marriage. His wife, Lucy, left him, basically because he wouldn’t have a tattoo done to match hers.
“They’ve sold their house,” Janice says, looking wistful. “Did very well out of it, actually.”
“And is he OK?”
Mum and Janice exchange looks.
“He’s been throwing himself into his hobbies,” Janice says at last. “Keeping himself busy. His new thing is woodworking. He’s made all
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