When a group of middle-aged friends who met two decades previously are deciding on the location of their annual long weekend away, the requirements are...complicated.
We met as young, carefree, childfree, penniless twenty-somethings. Holidays were determined by the nightlife on offer, the average price of cocktails in the area, and how deep a tan could be achieved in a week.
Fast forward twenty years, and it's a minefield. First, we don't all still live on campus. Dispersed across London, Lancashire and Yorkshire means finding somewhere everyone can reach easily from their nearest airport, with return flights four days later because childcare, pets and annual leave restrictions make a full week away impossible. Second, each of us has either chosen dietary requirements based on ethics or had them forced on us by adult diagnoses of myriad illnesses. And finally, various stages of peri-menopause mean some of us just feel too old to share a room, lest the now premium commodity of sleep gets interrupted.