The Real Staycation

Posted by Verity on August 31, 2026 in Blog, History, Leisure activities, Seasonal, Wishes | 2 comments

Not for the first time I’ve questioned the wisdom of going on holiday: how can something so stressful bring rest and relaxation? Back in 2016 I came up with a far better solution: you don’t go anywhere so there’s no packing, no fares, no exorbitant accommodation, no insurance, no painful and costly jabs, no queues, no seeing your precious unguents confiscated because you are not au fait with this particular airport’s rules, no realising you’ve left something vital behind (oh hair flattening hat, where are you?)

You don’t go anywhere and you spend the money you save on having everything done for you. Doesn’t that sound delicious? I have now thought through how this would work in detail, so here is my dream staycation.

Day 1

This is the day a handy person will come in to deal with all those annoying little jobs around the house that build up over time: mending the broken banister spindle, cementing back the broken brickwork on the patio, fixing the split in a picture frame…

But we won’t be home to hear any of the banging, because we will be finally getting round to doing one of those Secret London walks, meandering blissfully from Highgate to Hampstead, from Karl Marx to John Keats, and dutifully obeying the guide book’s advice to stop for lunch at Kenwood House.

Day 2

Early to rise today: the deep cleaners are coming, so we’re taking ourselves off to the Roger Fry Gallery in Saffron Walden, trying hard not to gloat as we board a virtually empty train from Liverpool Street to Audley End as the commuters stream in the opposite direction.

After our long walk through the Essex countryside and the rigours of art appreciation, it’s back to a pristine house for a takeaway.

Day 3

We can afford a bit of a lie-in today – the clothes care person will not need that long to darn and handwash jumpers (mine chiefly get their moth holes from languishing too long in the laundry basket) and exercise their stain removal skills and napkins.

Staying close to home, we’ll wander up through Sydenham Hill Woods to the pub for lunch, and back through lovely West Norwood Cemetery, under the benign and sorrowful gaze of a host of stone angels.

Day 4

After its deep clean the kitchen is now in a state fit for a chef to come in to batch-cook myriad delicacies of our choosing with which to stock the freezer – and that evening’s dinner.

In the meantime, I’ve turned my attention to the issue of souvenirs. It’s not a holiday if you don’t have a souvenir, so I’ve signed up for a silversmithing session to design and fashion my own silver ring. It’s small. It’s personal, and I made it, so I won’t be asking myself what on earth I was thinking of five years down the line.

Day 5

I’m really excited at the prospect of a visit from a gardener. At the end of the the day the garden will be weed-free for all of an hour, bulbs will have been planted for the show of colour I crave but can never achieve, and mysterious arts that I have never mastered will have been practised: dividing clumps, selective pruning, propagating. Every plant will be sighing with relief and wriggling its little roots with joy at an expert horticulturalist’s tender ministrations.

Meanwhile, we will have been immersing ourselves in the garden vibe at Kew, ambling at will, taking in Marianne North’s exquisite botanical watercolours, marvelling at the Palm House and finally boarding the boat for Festival Pier, to have a few bevvies at the Festival Hall as the sun goes down, followed by a film at the BFI – preferably something in black and white from at least 80 years ago.

Day 6

By now I will have reached the state I invoked in ‘Busy Doing Nothing’. The only option will be to veg out on the sofa with a box set or two and an array of chocolates, confident that there is nothing that needs to be done.

It’s only been six days, but I shall feel more relaxed than if I’d been away six weeks. Now that’s what I call a holiday.