It's just a holiday...
With summer here, many of us will be making a break for it. Just remember, holidays are meant to be a bit of fun - not necessarily a life-changing experience, says Polly Williams
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There's no insurance policy against a rubbish holiday. A celeb-endorsed five-star hotel doesn't guarantee anything much, bar posh toiletries and obsequious service. If anything, the plusher the place, the more the pressure to have 'the time of your life', thus the increased likelihood things will go awry. But holidays are a bit like childbirth: we're programmed to forget the pain and, after a few months, happily sign up to do it all again.
1. The 'me time' retreat
On a yoga retreat, 'Ommm' easily becomes 'Argh!' unless your idea of fun is being woken up at 6am for a headstand - the 'idyllic gentle dawn stretch' mentioned on the website - before breakfasting on seeds.
Anyone searching for romance will be disappointed. Retreats attract single women. The odd lone male in bad sandals might be lured by the idea of women cat-stretching in spandex but - trust me - you won't fancy him. However, you might fancy the instructor. Everyone does. If he gets hot with your down dog, calculate how many retreats he does a year and multiply that number by three: that's about the number of women he's slept with since January.
As for 'me time'? You'll be surrounded by people who go on the retreat to 'get over' something - usually men - or, worse, 'find themselves'. And they just love 'sharing' their feelings late at night from the bottom of a bunk bed.
Forget the 'we welcome all levels' fluff, too. All retreats attract competitive human flexi-balls who'd rather snap their hamstrings than see your heels closer to the yoga mat than theirs. Still, don't let me put you off. I've made some great friends on retreats and have rarely left without a new zest for life and better biceps. But then I always get reliable word-of-mouth recommendations, pack lots of good books, pay a single sleeping supplement if I have to, and don't confuse a retreat with a holiday.
2. The two-week wind-down in the sun
The wind-down too easily becomes the wind-up. The scenario: you work like a dog all year saving for your holiday, ticking off the days on your calendar. You're stressed and anxious - it's Paxos or the Priory. So what do you do? If you're as short-sighted as me, you'll book a budget airline. So although your air ticket only costs £56.25, you arrive at your spa hotel 56 hours late, exhausted, hungry and incensed, trapped in an all-consuming vortex of budget-airline hatred that takes three days to filter out of your system.
You're so intent on relaxing, the state eludes you. On the beach, you worry about melanoma and get bored. You have an expensive massage. It's weirdly irritating. It feels like you're wasting your life. Work calls your mobile: 'Sorry it couldn't wait.' This sends you into another vortex of fury. Now you can't stop thinking about work.
Another couple - loud, sweaty, insensitive - latch on. Like sand, they get everywhere. You realise you prefer your boyfriend's company on a part-time basis only. You miss the girls in the office.
Then, unexpectedly, on day 13 you wake up feeling different: smiley, relaxed, in love even. Finally, it feels like a holiday! The only problem is, your flight home leaves at 4am the next morning. The lesson here is simple: book as much time off work in one chunk as possible. And leave your mobile at home.
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