First, an apology to my loyal reader: sorry. I haven’t written anything since last Sunday because because because because. Oh I don’t know. This blog has been stumbling along since 2014 and I’ve never gone this long without boring my aforementioned loyal reader to death, or depression as we mentalists call it. Sorry, mate, but I’m back again.
We flew to Croatia last Monday aboard a half-empty easyJet A319 and my partner and I had three seats each. We transferred from Split airport to the port to the island of Brac to the harbour town of Supetar and now we are happily settled in our immobile home. For two weeks, the cares of the world are on someone else’s shoulders.
We’ve decided not to overdo the social media coverage of our holiday for one simple reason: Covid-19. Not the virus itself, but the effect it has had on so many people, including us. We’ve lost family members and friends and you may have, too. You may have lost your job, you may have become horribly depressed, you may have seen your university years stolen from you, you may have gone through a million emotions. You may not want to see us showing off on social media, telling you our lives are so much better than yours. And the last thing you will ever want to see is a catalogue of gurning selfies.
As for Croatia, this is the second time we have been to Brac and I can only confirm what I’ve said before, that this is a massive step up from many of the places we have been to before. For one thing, Croatia still has its own currency, rather than the Euro, and while it has gained some value against the Great British Pound, it’s still way cheaper than, say, Greece. It’s spotlessly clean, too, things generally run on time and you can actually put your toilet paper down the loo.
I will try to write something more articulate and coherent in the coming days – there’s always a first time – but meanwhile, accompanied by Staropramen, Big Red Machine, sunburn and insect bites, I’m back. As a matter of fact. I’m back.