It might never happen
It's a corollary to one of Murphy's laws: the closer one gets to the long anticipated holiday, the more likely the guy at the next desk is to struggle in, macho style, with some ghastly contagious lurgy he caught at the weekend.
Cue eight hours breathing in the heady mix of germs they're breathing out, whilst trying to tune out their incessantly gruesome snooks and coughs.
The planned vacation looks set to be a corker. Instead of cocktails, it will be Lemsips. Rather than sightseeing every sneeze will be accompanied by the blinking reflex which prevents the eyes from exploding out of their sockets.
Who granted Murphy the right to create laws anyhow? What kind of a person would enjoy making the decree that 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.'
Meanwhile it's time for industrial strength Berocca with lashings of Echinacea, obsessive hand washing, crossing of fingers, and touching of wood.
I prefer Bob's law (you know - Bob the Builder): 'Cheer up love, it might never happen!'
Cue eight hours breathing in the heady mix of germs they're breathing out, whilst trying to tune out their incessantly gruesome snooks and coughs.
The planned vacation looks set to be a corker. Instead of cocktails, it will be Lemsips. Rather than sightseeing every sneeze will be accompanied by the blinking reflex which prevents the eyes from exploding out of their sockets.
Who granted Murphy the right to create laws anyhow? What kind of a person would enjoy making the decree that 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.'
Meanwhile it's time for industrial strength Berocca with lashings of Echinacea, obsessive hand washing, crossing of fingers, and touching of wood.
I prefer Bob's law (you know - Bob the Builder): 'Cheer up love, it might never happen!'
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