Never as good as you hope, but better than you thought

Press, 1 April 1989, Page 16

Never as good as you hope, but better than you thought

My mother-in-law used to say, “It is better to travel hopefully than arrive,” and she might conceivably have added, “And it is better, afterwards than it was at the time.” “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it sometime,” a friend said of her sojourn in the Greek Isles, although immediately afterwards, all she could remember was how hot and stoney it was and how much the kids whinged. Years ago, when we needed the money to put food in the mouths of the children, I used to write advertorial which kept me posted on all the things which we could not afford. The first time, I saw bath sheets, so called be-

cause they are about the same size as bed sheets, I fell in love. I had never seen anything so luxurious in my life, even though my first glimpse was of Scandinavian imports about the colour and finish of sandpaper. Apparently, those northern types have hot spas and then roll in the snow, and they need the sandpaper bit to get their circulation going. (At least, that is what I used to say in my copy.) But pretty soon, bath sheets were around inmore agreeable colours and less Spartan finishes, and I lived for the day when we could afford masses of huge fluffy towels.

Eventually, I got over my infatuation and I did not think of them again until last Christmas when I bought two and carried them home. Perhaps their sheer bulk should have warned me but it did not. I fell out of love with my pride and joys just so fast. I was immediately overwhelmed, riot by their luxury, but by their inconvenience and unserviceability. They are far bigger than they need to be for all practical purposes. The first problem is storing them. They take up so much room in the linen cupboard — about as much space as four ordinary bath towels. Then, if you hang them in the bathroom, you have

the same problem. They are too big and bulky to hang in the towel rack. Then they hog all the space in the dirty laundry basket. And after that, the washing machine ...

Once they are washed, they take up so much room on the line, and once they are dry and folded, it is back to the linen cupboard where it all starts again. I did take them camping, but never again. They hogged all the room in the backpack. Soon, I will insert a note in the classifieds: “Kind, large and roomy home wanted for two bright yellow bath sheets.” The reality never matched the expections. Alas!

I am reminded of a story of a young English beauty of the sixties who fell madly in love with Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones. So great was her infatuation that she left her husband and followed the band.

Eventually, she caught their attention and was invited on a tour of Europe, where she be-

came a groupie or, in other words, a very close personal companion to all the band members except Mick Jagger. Life was good, but still not perfect. Every time when it happened, she thought to herself, “This is fabulous, but it is not Mick Jagger.” Then one day, the unbelievable — she got the nod from the top of the stairs. For this moment, she had left her husband and turned her whole life inside out, but even when it happened, she could not stop thinking ... “This is fabulous, but it’s not Mick Jagger” the myth was greater than the man.

She found out first hand something my .mother-in-law could have told her all along. It is better to travel hopefully than arrive.

Or possibly, now that she is a middle-aged lady living quietly in the suburbs, that moment might seem in retrospect to have been everything she hoped for and more