If you're anything like me, you're fed up with making decisions. What are we going to call the baby? What soup are we going to eat? Where should this lamp thing I bought go? Who's coming for supper? Should I give up sugar or gluten? I'm DONE with deciding stuff. It's all I do, all day long - whether it's the big stuff (shall I forgive him for forgetting where the mustard lives?) or the small stuff (Braeburn or Cox?), the bottom line is, I don't want to arrive on holiday any more and have to make decisions.
Before babies and old age set in, I loved landing in Ibiza/Naples/Paris with no sure-fire plans. There was nothing my girlfriends and I loved more than squealing, 'WHERE shall we go tonight?' and 'WHAT shall we wear?' and, the best one ever, 'WHO am I going to flirt with?' Well, now I'm 104 and my world has changed - I like to know what lipbalm I'm going to be using on the flight (it's Clinique) and what socks I'll be carrying with me for the journey home (Brora men's socks in charcoal). No, I know it's not sexy. But remember, I'm 104.
Hotels and resorts don't understand this and offer up a plethora of options the moment you fall out of the airport car and into their lobby: 'Would you like a hot or cold towel?'; 'Would you like a watermelon punch or a coconut and mango thirst-quencher?'; 'Would you like to make dining reservations for this evening? For the Moroccan restaurant by the sea, the Italian bistro next to the spa or, as it's Thursday, would you like to join us for a BBQ and local show on beach number three?'
LEAVE ME ALONE. I CAN'T DECIDE. MY HEAD IS GOING TO FALL OFF. I'M A MIDDLE-AGED MOTHER - CHOOSING WHAT CEREAL TO HAVE MIGHT JUST FINISH ME OFF.
And this is why, ladies and gentlemen, Carlisle Bay is the Greatest Hotel on Earth. They know how busy we are, they know we have to tweak an...