Sally goes on her hols.

 It has been very difficult to put a positive spin on this. I was expecting to be in Greece at this time but I’m not. I did all the typical things one does prior to heading off to the sun. Most of all I got really excited about a holiday with Diane in Greece. Now, I am back home feeling really sorry for myself. I have spoilt Diane’s trip. I am full of doubt about my competence. I just don’t feel happy. Ezra-Mae has noticed it, and she has tried to cheer me up. Nothing works. I just feel shitty.

What to do when you can't travel. Thank you Sophie

All started well. Diane and I set off for Gatwick. So far so good. We headed for the gate. Gate 112. Then we were told it was now gate 113. No probs. We queued; showed our boarding passes and were told it was the wrong plane. Ours was halfway across the airport at gate 55. We legged it along with five others. We got there and the gate had closed. We argued but it looked like only the two people who had luggage loaded in the hold would be allowed to board. In the end it was just me they wouldn’t allow to travel.

The worst thing happened. I still can’t quite believe it; my passport was out of date. I expires in June BUT it was 10 years and 3 weeks old. New BREXIT rules… You can only travel to the EU within 10 years of the issue date. Diane left. I got escorted out of the airport like a criminal along with six others from different flights.

The next day I applied for a new passport. I had to put the expiry date of the old one on the form. 17^th June, 2025. Putting that date really galled. I could have travelled to Asia and I would have been fine. Bloody BREXIT. Having looked into this, I found that 2.4m Brits had been caught by this rule before March 2022. That is a lot of disappointed people.

Currently I am living vicariously through Diane’s photos and catching up with her on face time. I am missing a wonderful experience. I think she is missing me. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have collected Sally Sourdough starter from Nasser’s house – her holiday home. Sally is my highly excitable, bubbly companion that makes tasty bread. She exploded on one occasion, so I asked Nasser to be nice to her and make her welcome.

Sally does her best.

My bubble friend after a short sojourn 

There is something about a “starter” that makes me feel it is a companion more than a food source. I told Ezra-Mae I had Sally living with me. When I showed her, she was adamant that it wasn’t a person. She now has her own “starter”, Peppa Dough. I wonder where that name came from? Danielle looked on the internet for possible names: Bread Pitt, Brigit Bar-Dough, and Ringo Starter were among the celebrity sobriquets mentioned.

So, along with more than 2.4m failed British travellers and those who elevate their sourdough starters to a high status of being, I feel slightly more normal. It hasn’t stopped the sadness I feel of a failed get-away though. What to do?