I haven’t had too much luck with group holidays of late.

Some of you may remember Lyle, the TOWIE-wannabe tour guide in Morocco – and massive bell-end to boot. Then came Romania, where I spent an entire week being dragged around according to the dogmatic scheduling logic of the decidedly dysfunctional RO-bot. And of course there was the infamous Kenya to Cape Town trip back in the day, which – somewhere around the Zimbabwean halfway mark – dramatically devolved into a full-blown adult version of Lord of the Flies (think: fewer conches, more alcohol, similar body count…).

By rights, I should have given up on group holidays years ago. Instead, I’ve booked another one. This time: Montenegro.

In fairness, the actual group bit is only six days long. And given that I somehow managed to survive a similar timeframe in Romania with the accursed RO-bot without committing aggravated homicide (in the face of considerable provocation, it should be said), I’m feeling cautiously optimistic for now.*

Admittedly, that may just be the Aperol spritzes talking! (First things first and all that…)

After the group contingent, I’ll then be spending a couple of restorative days in a spa hotel in Herceg Novi, before finishing up on the coast with a surprise special guest (no spoilers on that front just yet… 😉).

Pathologically early, as per usual, I’ve arrived in Kotor a full day ahead of the rest of the group – and, fuck me, it’s beautiful.

It is also, pleasingly, full of cats – both the actual furry variety and an impressive array of feline-themed tourist tat.

Between the scenery, the cats and the spritzes, I’m thus far perilously close to enjoying myself.

Which, if anything, is mildly concerning…

If experience has taught me anything, it’s that the most enjoyable trips make for terrible blog posts. Nobody wants to read 2,000 words of “the logistics worked and nobody cried”. The juicy stuff comes from chaos, frustration, social awkwardness and the occasional complete breakdown of group cohesion. Or – failing that – attempted Ayurvedic bum rape.

In short: shit travel remains my most reliable muse.

Time will tell as to whether Montenegro proves a wonderful holiday, or merely another source of material…

After all, what could possibly go wrong…?

* Literally no judge and jury in the land could possibly have convicted me on the RO-bot front.