Day Three in Kraków

As Day Three dawned in Kraków we woke with that sinking feeling that it was our last day on holiday. Feverish clamours of “How will we possibly be able to adjust back to working life?!” were bandied around. The idea (and looming reality) of having to jump on a plane to England seemed absurd, horrific, and even apocalyptic. Understandably, when you are perched on a hammock somewhere in the Tropics where even Facebook’s complex algorithms are struggling to check you in with geographical accuracy, the thought of returning back to England is a far cry from the prospect of staying put in sunny idyll. But when you realise that you have only spent a mere 72 hours away from the Big Smoke and haven’t even left the continent it seems a little silly.  Sillier still when we realised that our plan for the morning was in fact to frequent Zara….not so far-flung from our normal lives after all! Unlike the previous mornings, today there was less of a alcoholic glaze eclipsing my vision and better still, the sun was out in full force. This meant that Kraków had to do its best at striking a pose for my prying lens en route to the shops. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA Right in the middle of the square is this rather grandiose cloth market. Fur-lines slippers, trinkets, pottery, ceramics, wooden toys and amber jewellery tempted us like touristy magpies and parted us from our money (albeit about £10!).OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWhen the obligatory shopping had been completed and the final swoop of the market had been ticked off it was time to sulk to the airport. We dragged our feet reluctantly to the waiting car and tried to ram our carrier bags into our hand-luggage with little enthusiasm but a whole lot more contempt and expletives for airline handbag rules. Several glasses of wine and some embarrassingly competitive rounds of Bananagrams attempted to ease the woe of waiting for our delayed flight home.

Landing in darkness at Heathrow, it was official, the trip was technically over. But as with all good holidays they are never quite done and dusted. For the rest of the week I had to try my best to stifle uncontrollable chuckles that crept up at the most inconvenient of times – reminiscing on the cheery highlights, inebriated shenanigans, and exploding eggs (ask Sian for details on that particular incident). And the silver lining of a holiday coming to an end is, of course, the commencement of the countdown to a reunion. Stay tuned.

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