Holiday of Glass 

‘Wow,’ I gasped, stepping into the hotel, suitcase rolling behind me. I took a moment to gaze around the momentous lobby, the pure grandeur of the display. Red and gold carpeting ran across the entire floor, and white marble flowed across the walls. A chandelier that was easily worth more (and possibly bigger) than my house swung delicately from the ceiling.

         George,’ my wife hissed at me from the reception desk, our twins hanging off her arms. ‘Help!’

         ‘Coming, sweetheart,’ I grinned sheepishly, stepping over the velveteen carpeting and plonking my suitcase down beside her. ‘Did you see that chandelier? I wonder if there’s a glazier available around Melbourne who could—’

         ‘Not now, George,’ she huffed at me, gesturing to the man behind the counter. ‘He needs the passports.’

         ‘Oh, right,’ I grinned again, reaching into my bag for our bundle of passports and handing it over.

         ‘What’s a glay-gl-glazy…’ Henry piped up, struggling with the word.

         ‘Glazier,’ I sounded it out for him. ‘It’s someone who works with glass!’

         ‘Woah,’ Penelope gasped. ‘That would be so cool!’

         ‘I know right!’ I beamed down at her. ‘Look at all the amazing things in this lobby that were made using—’

         ‘George!’ my wife snapped at me. ‘Your suitcase!’

         I looked away from my captive twins and frowned. A bellhop was awkwardly reaching towards me for my suitcase, and I passed it to him with a smile and a nod.

         ‘Honestly,’ my wife sighed. ‘You’re so absentminded.’

         ‘I’m not absentminded,’ I protested. ‘I was explaining to our daughter how wonderful the world of glassmaking is. Who knows,’ I said with a grin, turning back to Penelope and Henry, ‘maybe one of them will be an expert glassmaker one day.’

         ‘Good,’ my wife snorted. ‘Maybe they can fix that glass balustrade that you were supposed to organise before our trip.’

         ‘Lynette,’ I said with a frown, straightening up and putting my hands on my hips. ‘We are standing in one of the oldest, most beautiful cities in the world, and all you want to do is talk about a broken balustrade?’

         She narrowed her eyes, snatched her handbag, and stormed up the gorgeous stairs.



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