Laughter Keeps the Soul Strong

Laughter Keeps the Soul Strong

Last weekend my husband and I headed out to Cornwall for a romantic mini-break. (We are Australian but we currently live in Devon, England).

Hubby had spent hours the night before finding us the perfect accommodation, and as we drove into the grounds, with its long, sweeping driveway burning with fairy lights and quaint cottages nestled into the hillside, we thought he’d found it.

As we removed our luggage from the car, I was sure I’d spotted our cottage; the furthest away and most secluded with the grandest view of the patchwork plains of the cornish countryside.

On the trip Hubby had promised me a foot massage, and I’d been dreaming of a long soak in the tub with my latest read. I was also planning on having an aromatherapy massage.

Little did we know that our romantic aspirations were about to be abruptly dissolved……

Checking in, we were told that we had booked the ‘Rose Room’ in the guest house and we eagerly followed the guest house owner down a long corridor.

At the end of the corridor she opened a door and we ‘seemed’ to go into her house, passing pictures of her family and personal life on the mantelpiece and walls. I thought, ‘This is surely a shortcut to the cottage’, but she then stopped in front of a door.

An elderly woman directly across the hall, barely a hair’s breath away, opened her door, her TV blasting. The guest house owner then flung open the door, exclaiming, “This is your room,” and to our horror we both stepped into a candy pink, puffed and frilled tiny one bedroom room.

It was so small that the double bed hardly fit into its space, squashing the cupboard into the left hand corner. I turned to Hubby in fright but he was as shocked as I was, shaking his head and slowly taking in the degree of damage.

He was looking at the bright pink walls, dirty old candy coloured carpet and frills everywhere, staring vacantly. He opened his mouth to say something but the owner asked, “Is everything ok,” and all I could manage to mutter was, “It’s very pink.”

“Of course it is,” she said stiffly. “It is the Rose Room.” She went on to show us the tiny cupboard space, the tea and coffee sachets and the spare blanket.

And where was the bathroom? “Down the hall on the left, and for using the bathroom here is one robe for you both. Two people don’t need two robes, do they?”

The owner promptly left us and I, numb with shock, sank down on the bed but its cheap springy mattress bounced me back up and I almost landed on the floor.

Hubby went to investigate the bathroom and came back to report that the shower was the smallest he’d ever seen – dashing any hopes of a soak – and hardly worked, and that he thought it was Granny’s bathroom too.

You can blame it on our Aussie naivety about British guest houses but we’ve never encountered such a ‘lack of privacy’, stuffy, odd and tiny way to spend the weekend.

Pulling the ‘one robe’ out of the cupboard, Hubby forlornly asked me “Who wants to go to the bathroom first?” but I was too mesmerized by the degree of girlie pink in the room to respond.

Putting on the white laced robe, Hubby stood in front of me backdropped in fuschia and rose and said sadly, “Darling, this room does nothing to enhance my masculinity.”

That was the moment that I started to laugh. Uncontrollably.

My husband, Pete, is a ‘salt of the earth’ Aussie bloke. Although he is usually the only guy at yoga, zumba and the self-help seminars we attend, there is nothing feminine about him. Seeing his forlorn face amidst the pink of frills was so hilarious that I started to screech with laughter.

When he told me that he’s creeped out by being in a nine year old girls bedroom with Granny across the hall, I laughed even harder, and when he complained about the meagre one robe, I laughed harder still.

I hadn’t laughed like this since I was a child and my sister and I used pull pranks on our unsuspecting brother!

Hubby finally cracked into a large smile, giving me the courage to dare ask how much he’d paid for the ‘Rose Room.’ When we told me the ludicrously expensive amount it sent both of us into peels of laughter and we threw ourselves onto the bed hysterically.

Our laughter followed us the entire weekend and we had the most splendid time. Even when we discovered the bedroom door didn’t close properly, Granny kept us away all night with her blasting TV set, and we got scolded for being late to breakfast, we laughed.

The more absurd our mini-break became and the more our romantic aspirations were demolished, the harder we laughed.

It was so funny to witness how our expectations had been obliterated! It wasn’t anybody’s fault that the ‘Rose Room’ didn’t encourage marital intimacies, it just was. Being ‘mad’ because we booked something we thought we hadn’t was pointless.

Honestly, in the past I would’ve probably been annoyed and would have secretly resented the guest house owners but laughing about it highlighted the beautiful contradiction of the situation: we got the opposite of what we thought we were getting!

(I’m sure working on my heart chakra this past week attributed to my positive attitude. It’s chakra 4 week in School of the Modern Mystic).

So much of what we get upset about in life is because our expectations are not being met. In our case, the ‘Rose Room’ was simply a mismatch.

What a wonderfully light place this world would be if we could laugh when things mismatch instead of taking it personally.

Keep laughing and keep your soul strong.

in White Light + Love,

Belinda

P.S. We never did find out who got those quaint cottages!

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Comments

  1. kerry
     | 
     | 

    My mum had the capacity to bring lightness and laughter into every situation. Luckily she taught us all to laugh at ourselves as well. Humour definitely lightens yr load in life. As u rarely meet people like her even when she was in terrible pain cld still laugh she is dearly missed. People these days take everything so seriously especially young people


  2.  | 

    Haha! What a wonderful way to get through something that could have been so disappointing!

    Thank you for sharing Belinda!
    🙂


  3. Val
     | 
     | 

    No foot massage then Belinda!? Where would we be without laughter and humour thanks for the reminder 🙂 x


  4.  | 

    What a wonderful, fairy-like way to cope with such a ludicrous situation. I am so much feeling with you! I experienced something in that direction this weekend, when my train was delayed again and again. When I arrived at the last change I dashed for my connection, but alas the doors of the train were closed, wouldn’t open again and it left without me. I just laughed. Why not? I went into the station, had a beautiful hot chocolate, somebody gave away the best paper you can have in our part of the world for free and I felt happy and content. It depends so much on how we are interpreting a situation, whether we are well and getting on. I admit though that I do not know how I would have reacted to that kind of pink ‘Rose Room’ LOL


  5. Margitta
     | 
     | 

    Lovely story and wonderful written. I’ m very amused and I agree to your conclusion.
    Thanks a lot. 🙂


  6. vera
     | 
     | 

    YES!!!!

    I’ve been laughing my way through 2 months of a lice infestation and let me tell you…..those nits and I are definitely a mismatch!!!!!!!

    Thanks for the reminder!


  7.  | 

    Love love love it, Belinda! Thanks for making me laugh 🙂


  8.  | 

    I don’t even know how I ended up here, but I thought this post was great.
    I do not know who you are but certainly you’re going to a famous blogger if you
    are not already 😉 Cheers!


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