Woodwork squeaks...

I don't rely on tourism for a job. In some ways, I'm glad I don't, but sometimes, particularly when there is heavy pressure from the Global IT company on behalf of the rather well known utilities company, I think that just some pressure, occasionally, is better than the full-on-omg-we've-only-just-finished-tax-year-end-and-have-2-weeks-to-get-the-next-payroll-out stress that I seem to face every year, no matter how much quality prep time is available.

So it is with tourism. It's not like the onset of spring - you see a snowdrop, maybe a crocus one morning and then gradually, the daffodils appear and slowly turn the brown earth to green. Oh no. Every year, without fail, and without warning, on the first sunny day on or after Easter, most of Liverpool invades the coastal towns from Prestatyn to Llandudno. Llandudno has more to offer year round than most, so it is well prepared. Sleepy Prestatyn barely knows whats hit it. Rhyl, who looks ridiculous in bright colours from early October to Easter, suddenly wakes up and becomes a personality again, rather than a shameful blot on the North Wales landscape.

Its not so much woodwork squeaking (was not was), more a sorta battering ram at the gates of a flimsy barn, and when you spend hours on buses to get to favourite destinations, so easy to get to in the winter. And people can't even say to me, you wouldn't have a livelihood without them, cos I would.

There are plenty that do though, and once the true personalities come out during winter, i.e. everyone takes a deep breath and starts talking to one another again, and with civility, I just wonder whether the stress is worth it, and does the money really compensate? And who does it compensate?