One spent the hell away from every other bugger, for starters.
I never could stand camping grounds. They always remind me of refugee camps with lots of food and drink. That and they take me back to a depressing time of my life when I lived in a caravan and learned why the people of the USA coined the term 'Trailer Trash'.
The beach house has it's merits, but only when it's a Dan'l Boone distance from other such places. Not too likely these days.
Camping seems to work best where the facilities are minimal or non-existent. The thought of digging a long-drop keeps most of the family campers away.
Saying at home has often made for a good holiday, provided that everyone else has gone elsewhere. In my flatting days, I did quite a bit of this.
You can wander around in the altogether, live on a 90% meat diet and drink beer before breakfasting on Irish cream & muslei- all without the opinions of others interupting the Cricket.
I've tried going on holiday & staying in motels/hotels, but the wife has an annoying habit of tidying & cleaning least some maid thinks we live like pigs. I'm on holiday- of course I'm going to live like a pig! I'm a great believer in having seperate holidays these days...
Some folks seem to think that you have to be DOING something- well, drinking beer IS doing something!
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