I have the misfortune to be married to someone who likes activity holidays (water based). Even more unfortunately the holiday companies we tend to travel with are used mostly by what could be classed as professional/middle class people.
As a result, I flop onto the nearest sunbed for a serious bit of reading on day one (the reading material strictly of the 'not thinking too much/ entertaining read' variety) surrounded by thirty somethings wielding hefty tomes that look like textbooks. A discussion will follow between them as to who recommended what and how this holiday is going to be used to improve their minds as well as their skills on the water. Invariably said books end up in the sand unread as their owners fall asleep (or find something better to do).
As I'm generally older than the rest of them I, and my tastes, are usually ignored (generally because I can be seen to be reading some bodice ripper and am therefore not worthy of being included in a serious book conversation.
What really, really, annoys me is that halfway trhough the holiday I'll run out of books and head to the hotel bookshelf to deposit what I brought and pick up a few new ones to read. You can guarantee that all the serious stuff will be packed on there and my bodice rippers will disappear within a couple of hours (I suspect to be read in the privacy of the rooms). I have a deep suspicion of book clubs that aim to improve the mind (and generally wouldn't trust anyone that read the Torygraph anyway).
I once went on holiday and met a girl at dinner who stopped talking to me after 10 minutes when she discovered that I didn't read teh Financial Times every day. The fact that I didn't was evidence (apparently) that I lacked the intellect to converse at her level. I told her I had a life instead. She didn't seem amused -for some reason!
