As my lovely Princess is taking a short break, she asked me to contribute - feel free to contact the complaints department which is located on floor 69 of the Bat Cave.
Goths and holidays don't really go together - the temptation to stuff annoying small children into overhead lockers appears to anger even the most ambivalent parent.
It would also appear that the general populous take everything except their brains on holiday.
I'm sure there is possibly a valid reason to take a 42 inch flat screen TV on holiday with you but, Mr & Mrs Fajoukalot - you might want to wait until your country has discovered electricity.
However, it is not for me to criticise the intellectually bereft - I will just stand in line, mentally envisaging your death from a pack of rogue hamsters.
When one does make it as far as the chosen destination of your holiday, it's peaceful to relax, have a long drink and marvel at the serenity that surrounds you. Generally, this is best accomplished at about 4am whilst the British tourists are snoring peacefully in their own vomit.
Waves of serenity will sweep over you as you contemplate the wonders of nature.
Occasionally, strange questions might linger tantalizingly on the edge of your enlightened spirit but, Jack Daniels can eradicate any foolhardy attempts to improve your wisdom.
As the owl alights silently on the tree to your right, you can raise your glass silently in homage and acknowledge that it would be rather unfortunate if you were a mouse about now.
At roughly 6am, the dawn tourists will descend upon the breakfast bar like scampering hyenas and you know the time has arrived to go to bed.
With a smile you can fall into the welcoming bosom of your bed and, if you so choose, envelop yourself in the comfort of your partners arms.
Well, that's how holidays work for me any-hoots.......
Grand Bisous Princess*tips hat and wanders off to the bedroom of Love*