Travel and bad moods don’t sit comfortably together. Sulking in places you’ve been looking forward to seeing – and have usually paid handsomely to see - just doesn’t make fiscal or emotional sense. But oh, it can be hard not to slide into a state of rage. Very hard indeed.
My partner stopped speaking to me as we embarked from Amsterdam on a two-day train trip across Europe. The reason? He was hungry, and we hadn’t had time to buy food. The unspoken implication was that this was my fault. I resented it; I began to sulk. Most of the journey was a nightmare, when it ought to have been great fun. Such a waste.
A similar thing happened in New Orleans. We fell out with one another over breakfast, arguing about whether it had been hotter in New York (I still swear it had). We were travelling to Natchez that day, and had already collected our car hire. Moments earlier, we'd been feeling great; suddenly, the day was ruined. We drove north in the grip of a very unpleasant atmosphere. Conversation was curt and sparse. We visited two plantation homes in silence, and stared mutely at fantastic sights – the Mississippi River, cotton fields, ancient trees swathed in Spanish moss – wrapped in our separate furies. On the way back south two days later, with our argument forgotten, we had a ball. However, the route was a different one, and we didn’t see those plantation homes again. We’d had our chance and blown it.
Photo by New Orleans Lady
In Vanuatu, on a much-needed relaxing break in a glorious over-the-water bungalow, we spent a whole week avoiding one 
another’s company. Our anger started on the flight; I can’t remember what caused it, but we couldn't shake it off. Each day, the tension mounted. Things got so bad that I almost flew home. We were infinitely more stressed and unhappy on that holiday than we'd been when, weeks before, we'd decided we needed to book it. As a result, I have very, very few good memories of Vanuatu, and it’s a place that, in my occasional sane moment during that holiday, I thought truly lovely. Both of us cringe when we remember those seven days. Such a beautiful place, seen under such a black cloud. Waste, waste, waste!!! One day, we’ll go back. And we’ll be sure not to argue on the way.
Photo by nickyfern
Travelling with friends can be just as bad. One of my best friends is particularly prone to travel tantrums. She nigh-on wrecked a visit to the gorgeous Clare Valley – where we and our respective partners had gone for a celebratory weekend break. Another friend drove off and left me stranded by a monument in Scotland. She did return, but not for several cold and angry hours. We’d been arguing about – wait for this – Scottish history. Oh, save me from myself.
It’s not easy to cool off when you’re angry, or to back down when you think you’re in the right. Most of the time I find it impossible. But, next time I travel, I’m going to do whatever it takes to maintain a happy atmosphere. I'm going to be as sweet as Pollyanna, and I advise you to do the same. You only get one chance at these travel memories. Make sure they’re good ones.