Be Careful Who You Go Away On Holiday With

I shall always remember my first holiday abroad without my parents. With their blessing and money to pay for my first holiday without them in tow, I went to Italy with a couple of close girlfriends. One of them was Sally, my very best friend who lived round the corner. She had mini-skirts up to her eyeballs, had long black hair down to her bottom and had all the boys chasing her. She was a chainsmoker and was a barrel of laughts. Christie, on the other hand was so beautiful, that a legitimate film producer once stopped her in the street and asked her if she would like to be in his new movie. Unfortunately, she had very strict Catholic parents who forbid her to follow this opportunistic lead, and insisted she stay on at secretarial college. Christie was very quiet and never said a word, which suited me fine as I liked to do all the talking. Her beauty attracted the boys, but my chat made sure they stayed.

Unfortunately, shortly before we all went on holiday together, Sally fell in love, obsession more like it, with a cool boy who was simply not interested in her. She could have had any boy she wanted, except for this one. He did lead her on a bit though, and once asked her to go to a party with him where they danced cheek to cheek for the entire evening. He never called her again. After we bought our airplane tickets, Sally announced she didn’t want to go on holiday, as she was moping around for this unattainable boy. Like idiots, Christie and I persuaded her to come on holiday with us, saying a trip abroad without our nagging parents would do her the world of good.

What a killjoy Sally turned out to be, which just proves you don’t really know what anyone is like until you go on holiday with them. We all stayed in a little hotel by the Adriatic, but while Christie and I went out during the day and night, feasting on pasta and trying to learn the Italian lingo, Sally insisted on staying cooped up in her room, chain-smoking and constantly moaning how depressed she was.

Before this holiday, Sally had been my best friend and confidant. And, Christie had merely been a beautiful sphinx, but on holiday, Christie turned out to be a gas. We ganged up against Sally, both agreeing what a pain in the neck she was. But, we didn't let her ruin our holiday. Christie and I fell in with a gang of Italian boys, whose handbags were more chic than ours. We slobbed out on the beach with them every day and fried in the sun. 'Bella! Bella!' they cooed when we turned lobster red. Once, Sally deigned to join us on the beach, but she was so miserable, that she started to cry. She looked like a big panda after her five layers of non-waterproof mascara ran down her cheeks. 'Bruto!' our new Italian friends exclaimed with disgust.

Going to Italy without my parents for the first time was a lesson. I knew what my parents were like, so I knew what to expect. But after the Sally fiasco, I was very careful not to go on holiday with a best friend ever again, for fear of falling out with them.

Copyright: Frances Lynn, 2007