GREEN shoots burst from tiny seeds and grew into great rainforests that tickled the clouds with the tips of their branches before laying their weary bodies on the ground, where they slowly became thick seams of coal.
Planets took shape out of vast dust swirls and hung around in outer space for aeons like enormous, lethargic snooker balls until they were sucked, apathetically, into a ravenous black hole.
And, while all this was going on, we were still trying to choose a place to eat.
Bergamo: the Italian town British tourists only fly to when they are trying to get to Milan but want to travel budget class.
Yet, in our usual method of sticking a pin in a map and then seeing if you can get there direct from Liverpool, this was our official final destination.
If there’s one valuable lesson to be learnt from going on holiday with friends, it’s never to go on holiday with friends.
Or at least, never go on holiday with friends you actually want to continue being friends with. If you are only pretending you like them, then this is a much more efficient way of getting yourself off their Christmas card list than avoiding their phone calls or moving your children to a different school so you won’t bump into them at parents’ evening.
There must be some combinations of personality that work perfectly in tandem in a European seaside resort, but it’s a dangerous game. A mixture of heat, cheap sangria and conflicting favourite tourist sites can blemish even the most sturdy of friendships.
Outspoken opinions you never knew you had surface at any point a decision has to be made, and you find yourself arguing the finer points of a particular landmark when you hadn’t even bothered to buy a guidebook.
After several awkward experiences, I have learnt my lesson about holidaying with friends.
I still do it. But only in winter.
It’s amazing how quickly a biting Baltic wind can cool overheated arguments about whether to visit the puppetry museum before or after the cathedral.
With extremely important decisions, though, a sudden blizzard or erupting volcano would not be enough to prevent a debate worthy of the US Senate.
If George Bush thought awaiting a decision on the recent economy rescue plan was nail-bitingly tense, then he should listen to a group of my oldest friends attempting to decide which of the 27 delicious-looking delis we should dine in.
And, of course, after 40 minutes of wandering round and round the streets of Bergamo in search of the perfect bistro, we ended up back where we started.
By then, the waiters were clearing up the mouth-watering buffet selection in the window, and it was more wholly stale than holy grail by the time we got to tuck in.
Lunch by committee – guaranteed to cause indigestion.
Except for one thing – this particular group of my friends live to argue. To them, a party could have John Lennon performing a duet with Elvis, and it still wouldn’t pass muster without a heated debate on council tax, TV licensing or real Christmas trees versus artificial.
If they were invited to dinner with the Queen, you would find them leaning against the fridge in the Buckingham Palace kitchens and arguing the pros and cons of Coke Zero with a footman.
So, while holidaying with some friends might be a risky business, this lot take pleasure in the friction and we find ourselves back in John Lennon Airport with feathers happily unruffled.
I think this makes them pretty special, but, should any of us ever decide to fall out, it’ll take a lot more than avoiding parents evenings to get the message across.
ENJOYED this column? Then log on to www.liverpooldailypost.co.uk/lauradavis where you’ll find many more.
lauradavis@dailypost.co.uk
