This is a phenomenon that has never quite made sense to me. Here in the UK we have a lot of people who like to drink. We have lots of places that sell alcohol. We have even more places who sell alcohol for insanely cheap prices. Yet, despite all of that, we still travel abroad in our thousands to get drunk in other places. Ibiza is one such place; but going there simply means you’re surrounded by other Brits. It makes no sense to me at all. You are paying an enormous amount of money for flights, then even more money for hotels and then even more money for alcohol and entry to clubs simply to be surrounded by Brits. Something that you can do for free at home. The only thing that you won’t get here, sometimes, is the weather you’ll get abroad. But who cares about that? Save yourself some money and some embarrassment.

Spain is my parents’ holiday destination of choice. They have dabbled elsewhere but, as I am sure many husbands recognise, it is ultimately down to the woman to decide where they go. Mum will not consider France. Won’t take a second look at Germany. Portugal? Don’t even mention it to her unless you fancy a sideways look and a cold shoulder. Italy and Spain are the only two ever considered. Spain is this year’s recipient of their hard earned euros and Seville is their (her) destination of choice. They have never been to Seville before, but it ticks many of the boxes for them. Is it overly touristy? No. Does it have a lot of cultural hub where they can kick back and soak in some Spanish life? You bet it does. It’s also similar enough to many of the other Spanish destination they have tried before that it won’t be entirely alien to them.

I do not drink that much any more; maybe it is because I do not socialise that much with people who do, but I have certainly slowed down in more recent years. Very occasionally though people will sort themselves out a holiday where the sole plan is to drink and to drink a lot. There are some locations, especially in Europe, where the whole tourism board is designed and orientated around the possibility of tourists coming into the country for a drinking holiday. Ireland is often seen as one of those locations; especially for English people abroad. Dublin in particular is seen as the perfect weekend away; it is only a short jaunt for most of us over the Irish Sea on a ferry or a plane and before you know it you’re in a foreign place, surrounded by people who don’t know you, with a free reign and license to let your hair down.

There are a number of things that I will not do in life. My “no” list, if you will. Some of them pertain to food stuffs, some of them are to do with films or literature, other to do with people I won’t see again. Also on the list is places I have no interest in going to. Some of them are overseas, but some of them are right here on home soil. Manchester. The northern.. dream? Northern Soul? Northern rock? Whatever it is I have no interest in going. My first frame of reference for places in the United Kingdom is their football team. I get a sense of their personality, a sense of what the club, the people and the place are about. Manchester has two main clubs; Manchester United and Manchester City. Anyone who knows anything about the sport will be well aware of those two clubs; millions spent on players, bullies as managers, refereeing pressures and plastic fans have tainted the success of the clubs. But those in the north won’t mind; after all, there’s nothing to do up there apart from watch football or the rain.