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Australia.  Land of Kangaroo.  We’d made plans to visit this summer, despite it being a country that can only really be accessed by horrid planes.  MiLs cousin, who was more like her big sister when they were growing up, lives over there.  ‘Let’s go!’ we said.  MiL agreed. 

Except Things Went Bad last year and now the risk of a flight to the wrong side of the world is too great.  The Blokey is still having regular appointments at both the big training hospital in maC and the little hospital in ChavTown and would need to take a suitcase full of medication if we went over there.  He was ill when we went to Cardiff.  I would probably worry myself to death if he got ill in Australia.

‘You go!’ we said to MiL at Christmas.  She was hesitant, but it was only fair that we didn’t spoil her and her cousin’s dreams.  Obviously she isn’t going alone.  BiL and his girlfriend are going too. 

And thus begins my stinkingly childish whinge.

I do not want to listen to endless talk of Australia.  We are not going … the least they can do is remember that.  They could also attempt to actually do all the groundwork themselves rather than rely on The Blokey, who seems to have to constantly coax his brother into looking for flights and stop-overs.  We are not going … do it yourbloodyself.

‘We’re [MiL and GiL] thinking of spending a couple of nights in New York on the way back,’ gushed MiL.  Sorry, wasn’t that my idea?  My dream?  Did I, or did I not, say to you, ‘Let’s go to New York on the way back!”?

I suppose what’s really crushing me is the way MiL has been able to drop me, like a kid in a playground who suddenly finds a new best friend.  In this case the new best friend is GiL.  GiL has a car.  GiL only lives a few miles away.  GiL has said this.  GiL has said that.  GiL is perfect.  GiL is amazing.  And let’s not forget, GiL has a car. 

I’m not blaming GiL.  I actually quite like her, even though I tend to usually shy away from those people who have excessive personalities.  She watches naff tellybox shows about celebrities dancing on ice, or singing for their supper, or something.  MiL watches them too.  Oh, how they laugh.  They watched Mamma Mia! together and had a thoroughly good time.  They had such a good time that when MiL received tickets to see Oliver! in the West End she promptly invited GiL to go with her. 

Oliver! is my third favourite musical, ever.  MiL doesn’t know this. 

I was with her when her husband died.  I was the perfect DiL, being responsible and taking charge of various things.  I gave up every Saturday for over a year for her.  I was nearly widowed last year.  I spent a month (in total, spread over two occasions) visiting my husband in hospital and she barely even bothered to phone me and find out how I was.  I can’t go to Australia.  Or America.  Or Singapore.

(The Blokey said that if I was that upset I could go, but what wife leaves her husband at home for a month, knowing that a) he doesn’t know how to use a washing machine and b) he might get ill again?  Besides, it wouldn’t be much of an experience without him.)

Would it have hurt her to invite me to go to London to see the show?

We’re taking her to CigaretteTown in Belgium this weekend.  I swear, if she mentions Australia or Oliver! I will go mad. 

On a far happier note … we realised that we haven’t really been on holiday for yonks.  We went to Amsterdam for our honeymoon in 2006, but apart from MiLs caravan and a couple of gig weekends, we haven’t had a real holiday since we went to Austria in 2004.  So we booked one for mid-August.  It may be a bit closer to home than Australia (it’s Yorkshire), but we have a private lodge with a jacuzzi, a sauna, a hot tub, breathtaking views and tranquility.  Perfick. 

Much more fun than having to entertain two old women in Australia! 

(whinge over)