Back in the day a holiday cost only the pounds that were paid
I’d book it and my only worry was the flight being somewhat delayed
Perhaps lost luggage or a crap hotel or being accosted by a thief
But never before has a trip abroad cost me so much in time and grief

The red tape is out in abundance, winding me tight in its grip
So many hoops to jump through, so many places to trip
More paperwork than a Vogon’s in-tray, still so much remains unclear
Will I have the will to go through this again at holiday time next year

Or will I revert to my plan B, looking more like plan A all the time
A camper to travel and see the sights of this lovely country of mine
Or will I be tempted once more, seduced by the sand and the sea
When time has elapsed and I’ve forgotten how much bureaucracy stole from me

I’d like to end on a positive note, how many cliché’s can I fit in a verse
C’est la vie, que sera sera and come on it could have been worse
The Hitchhiker’s guide has instructions, for just this turn of events
Don’t panic, it sagely advises.  My malcontent now vented is spent.

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Writing as therapy in this weeks Sunday rhyme time.  Sometimes you’ve got to let it out to move on, even the small things.

By the way, does everyone now what a Vogon is? If you haven’t read (or seen) The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy I can recommend it for all those in need of some laughter therapy.

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