It’s hard to imagine holidays now we’re locked in a pandemic

A carefree trip to Brazil to visit her sister helps Charlotte Cripps forget about Alex for a moment, but things take an embarrassing turn at an NA meeting in a barn in the jungle

(Amara May)

OK, it wasn’t heaven in Brazil. My dad came with his awful ex-girlfriend and they spent the whole holiday lording it up in a five-star beach villa with diarrhoea and a bidet bum gun after a severe case of food poisoning. I’m slumming it on the cheap nearby at my sisters while she’s out on the lambada circuit. It’s hot and I’m getting into the beach vibe. Everything is very slow in Bahia – the eastern coast of Brazil. They do everything tomorrow, which doesn’t suit my temperament.

It’s hard to imagine holidays now that we are all stuck at home in a coronavirus pandemic. Mind you, perhaps I won’t miss them quite as much as the idea of one. The trip through the airport itself with the two kids and my dad usually floors me before I have even boarded a plane. I have to push the luggage trolley with Lola riding on the top of it while my 87-year-old dad Brian pushes Liberty in the pram, using it like a zimmer frame. Then the holiday itself is one long slog that I need a holiday from. But back then, I left my worries at the doorstep of my new flat. I really didn’t care for a short time.

My sister Rebecca, who speaks fluent Portuguese, takes me to an NA meeting in a barn in the jungle – so she can translate what the others are saying. She’s obviously never attended one before as she starts to interrupt people mid-share to tell them it is all going to work out fine. I’m dying inside, as she sympathises with them, often getting up to hug them inappropriately. To my horror, she even picks up a white keyring at the end of the meeting for people who want to get clean (and serene), just to feel part of things.

Later when we are eating black beans at a cafe, my sister suddenly grabs her bottle of beer and hides under the table as two of the recovering addicts who just saw her collect a white keyring walk past. Every time her Brazilian boyfriend Carlos who is sitting with us asks her what I’m talking about – she says “Alex”.

The beach is spectacular as I find myself in a sea of great bodies. I must be the only one not wearing a thong – do I look like a fish out of water? Everybody in Brazil has their bums out and looks so happy. What’s their secret? Loads of sex, according to my sister, who is firmly entrenched in the Brazilian culture and is considering moving out here permanently.

I’ve never seen so many butt lifts and boob jobs in one place. Everyone is so touchy-feely – it is the opposite of reserved Britishness. Yet underneath the sexy display, is it all just shallow and superficial?

I’m sipping on my coconut water trying to work it all out when my sister arrives on the beach with Carlos. Determined to get my mind off Alex, they try setting me up with her boyfriend’s cousin Jose who looks like a bulked out Adonis. Is he on steroids? Apparently not, he’s just a master of the Brazilian martial art form, capoeira, and within a few minutes, he’s bouncing around the place doing handstands and cartwheels.

God, I wonder what Alex is doing now? I think. Probably a spreadsheet. Just forget him! Have fun! Tune out of London!

It’s soon New Year’s Eve and I end up kissing Lucas, a Brazilian law student at a party. I’m matching everybody else’s high with diet coke so am feeling quite manic. At least he is real, I think, and doesn’t keep staring into my eyes like he’s going to quote lines from that cheesy Chris de Burgh song “Lady in Red”.

A firework jolts me back to reality. Bang! After some whistling and more crackling noises – the sky is ablaze with exploding lights.

Wow, another year has blasted away and I’m no nearer to having a proper relationship or kids – or am I? Depends how you see it – is the glass half empty or half full?

We roll back to my sister’s for the after-party until the sun starts rising the following morning. The next day as I am packing my suitcase, I feel different. I have taken the power back by being less attached. I fly back with a tan and a little bit of a twinkle in my eye – now it’s not just Alex who looks like he’s up to no good.