This will go in some part to explain my absence last week. I was in heaven, and therefore totally unable to even contemplate putting fingers to keyboard. I’m telling you, if I were any more relaxed I’d be dead.

I have seen Heaven on Earth, I can now go peacefully into the night – a happy girl.

This will go in some part to explain my absence last week. I was in heaven, and therefore totally unable to even contemplate putting fingers to keyboard. I’m telling you, if I were any more relaxed I’d be dead.

Sir and I, along with my darling daughter and her darling husband, Madam and Beau, took our first proper vacation in who knows how long, and went to the Cayman Islands for a week, staying at a friend’s beach house. Actually, the term ‘beach house’ is a total misnomer. It would be like calling Windsor Castle a “farm house,” or the White House a “pied a terre in DC.”

It very soon became obvious to all of us that while it’s fun to explore new places, there was nothing worth seeing that we couldn’t see from the wide terrace overlooking the infinity pool, with spa on one side and fountain on the other, and then on – and on and on – across the Caribbean Sea.

I saw more colors of blue than you’d find in the best crayon box, I’m telling you.

The days that we did venture out were spent variously chumming it up with stingrays (Madam did, the rest of us declined) and going into the capital, Georgetown, stupidly on a day that five cruise ships were in thus adFding an extra 45,000 people to the populace in the stores – definitely not my idea of a good time.

To know really good stuff though, you have to encounter less than really good stuff so that you have a basis for Fcomparison. 

As they say in the classics, to find your prince to have to kiss a few toads on the way. So to find our paradise for a week, we had the toad-like experience of travel.

I understand, I really do, how irksome it is to have to fork over more dough at the airport if you have the temerity to want to check luggage. Personally I’m caught between a rock and a hard place on this one. I’d love to be able not to check luggage, but on the other hand I don’t know if I can live for one whole week with one Ziploc baggy of Lilliputian dimensions full of teeny tiny bottles of stuff I know I’m going to need in quantities greater than 2.5 ounces.

I find it entirely far more irksome however to get on the plane to find that those with only carry-on luggage are bringing virtual steamer trunks on board. Whatever happened to that handy-dandy gadget at the airports which was like a check point for on-board bags? If it doesn’t fit in this here bin, you’re going to have to check it, type gadget. 

Having a penchant for aisle seats, I’m getting tired of being belted in the shoulder by  capacious hand bags and full size suitcases.

And then to top that off, we paid extra to have seats closer to the front of the plane – not first class mind you – but just the other side of the curtain. I did this because Sir gets awfully put out if he can’t have a window seat, and so to save him having to trip over his bottom lip for five hours, I lashed out and spent $30 to get him the chaise of his choice.

All fine and dandy, except this is the section – at the bulkhead – where the airline puts families with dare I say it, small children.

Don’t get me wrong, I like small children, I’ve had one myself and indeed long long ago in a land far far away, I too was one. The problem with our particular batch was this. The dad spent our time on the ground waiting to take off by geeing up the three kids with excitement bordering on mass hysteria. The kids, naturally, on being held/buckled in for takeoff, took exception to this jailing, and so whinged, moaned, complained, cried and yelled from Kansas City to Charlotte and thence to Grand Cayman.

What did dad do? Why, what we were all trying to do – he was reading a book and ignoring the mayhem he caused.

Sir came up with a good idea though. How’s this for a concept, airlines? Move the bulkhead way, way back in the plane and install a floor to ceiling, aisle-encompassing sheet of Plexiglas, the likes of which being used in cinemas with “parent/child enclosures.” This way all the ado is kept behind an a-don’t screen. And if, as an economizing person, you chose to sit back there without an accompanying child, you would receive a handsome discount.

Getting to the toidies might be a tad tricky, as we, in cattle class, were not allowed past the seemingly steel clad curtain separating us from the nobs in first, and thus being unable to use the obviously superior john up the front, but hey, I can hold it. I can be a camel if I must.

When all is said and done, though, a total of 10 hours kissing toads to end up at the most gorgeous place on earth was a very small price to pay for a week of heaven.

Thank you so much my dear friends for allowing us the chance to wallow in such splendor.