Nothing quite like a summer holiday to revive and refresh – June and July were so hectic, they whizzed by in a blur.
After the Pink concert mid June, came Fathers Day, Sports Day, then my daughters gymnastics showcase, her birthday and subsequent birthday party; that we had to push back a week just to fit it in. In the middle of all that was a sleepover for my daughter’s whole class. It was the first time she had ever been away overnight from both parents. Hot on the heels of her party was another party and the end of year disco followed the next week. I was relieved when the summer holidays finally started.
6 whole weeks of zero routine! Bliss
My husband’s sister and her family came over from Australia for a month and despite worrying myself into an early grave about what may happen on their trip, I was pleasantly surprised. They had scheduled a grand total of one entire morning with us and we spent that time bowling. They had packed their month-long itinerary, full of visits and activities with all their family and friends from the UK. So by the time that cake had been sliced up, it was a manageable portion to digest. No deep conversations, digs passive aggressive comments or guilting us into more and larger family gatherings – It was actually quite relaxed. The time raced by and before I knew it, we were taking photos and saying our goodbyes.
The following week we headed to the caravan for our annual holiday. We decided to go somewhere different this year and stay for longer. We also planned ahead of time and pre-booked lots of activities for our week away as in the UK you can never trust the weather.
We booked aerial net bouncing, pottery painting, laser tag and archery and as for the weather, we were indeed blessed. A heatwave hit the UK on our holiday so every day was blue skies and sunshine. My parents joined us for a couple of days in the middle of our break which was great. We took them to see Peter Pan in Panto and sat out on our veranda every night until the sun went down. Lots of trips to the beach, swimming and sunshine were blissfully broken up by much needed air conditioning in the main complex. Our caravan neighbours were lovely. We really couldn’t have asked for better.
On our second to last day, we headed to the fairground, where I had to put my big girl pants on and jump on the rides with my very adventurous child; who has hit the zero-fear stage. I however have hit the mid-40s-vertigo-after-a-roundabout stage. Despite this, I was not about to be a sad sack. My inner child was egging me on and remembering who I used to be in my late teens and twenties, I just went for it. Roller Coasters (which I hate), the Sizzler, Dodgems and the Waltzer were all on the hit list and we did them all…twice. Accept the Waltzer. It used to be my go-to ride as a kid but just the once was enough to remind me that I may be young at heart but I have my limits. I kept it together for my girl but as our cart spun round and round like something possessed, my mind did wonder:
“Is this how it ends? Is this how I die?”
Dramatic yes, but even my husband, who stood by and filmed the whole thing, confirmed my suspicions. We did have the crazy cart that whipped round like a spinning top on steroids. It spun so fast, all the air was sucked out of our lungs at one point. Despite my very middle aged need to have a sit down afterwards, I felt proud of myself. I had not graced a Waltzer ride in twenty years but I was determined to show my daughter that her mama still has it! ish…
As usual, the last day came and we didn’t want to leave but all good things must come to an end. In the spirit of being real though, here is the other side of that pretty little picture I just painted.
The holiday was fantastic but….
On arrival the new digital key to the van didn’t work so we couldn’t get in until the maintenance guy arrived. What was wrong with normal keys? We headed to the restaurant in the main complex on the first night as a treat. Thinking a quick bite would be lovely. Once again, all digital so we ordered our food via the app. However this took ages as all our first and second meal choices were unavailable. I ended up ordering from the kids menu. Our food took nearly an hour to arrive and mine arrived burnt. We couldn’t face staying for dessert so after what amounted to 2 hours in the restaurant, we headed to the local store and bought our puddings there.
It could have been the heat but even with a packed schedule, our daughter was less than impressed. There was always something wrong. The activity took too long to start, or too quick to end, the games were too organised or other kids were better at the sport or more annoying… She was very diplomatic about her critique, but it was tough at times when we had pulled out all the stops only to receive a “meh” at best. We allowed her so much freedom during the holiday but it didn’t seem to land how we expected.
The arcades were ridiculously expensive for children with most games costing £1 for one play. Nowadays, you don’t hear the chaotic clattering of coins as people win. It’s the silent anticlimactic purr of tiny paper tokens shooting out, which the kids can exchange for toys. Unfortunately the toys are cheap and tacky and the amount of tokens needed for a child to exchange for something decent runs into thousands.
My husband wanted to purchase ice cream during one hot afternoon at another venue so confidently strolled into a restaurant that was advertising the frozen delight in little tubs. With a tub in his grasp he then asked for a spoon, only to be told they didn’t sell those! We were refunded and once again found ourselves at the local store buying ice cream there instead.
The swimming pool was so busy, they had to open it in shifts. A group was allowed in for 20 minutes only, while the next group waited in line and it continued like that all day. The pool was fantastic but you know that creepy feeling you get when you’re being watched? Well that feeling was real because if you are in the swimming group, you are being watched, by the poor folk sweltering in the heatwave queuing up along the edge of the pool. Not exactly the relaxing experience imagined. Like everywhere nowadays, places are just so busy and at full capacity.
On the last night, we got dressed up and headed to the club. 6 to 9pm was family fun with a kids disco and it was great to see our girl with her new friends that she had made during the holiday. We sat a few rows back, careful not to cramp her new sense of style and desire for independence. She danced around with her mates and watched the show with the rest of the children.
The venue emptied out as young families made their way back to their vans. We held out for a little longer. thinking we would be scoring some last minute cool points, for laughing in the face of what appeared to be a clear kids curfew. We didn’t earn anything apart from an overtired hissy fit when we left. Back at the van, I got yelled at for mentioning that I saw her and her friends getting told off by a security guard for playing on chairs on the dance floor. Despite not telling her off or indicating in any way that I was upset (which I wasn’t), I still found myself standing outside her room after she shut the door in my face.
Now, I know all too well what’s ahead in my daughter’s life regarding her attitude, hormones and push for more freedom. I just wasn’t expecting it at 8 years old. Are the young carefree years coming to an end already? Are Mum and Dad already uncool and a drag? Surely not. Once she fell asleep, my husband and I mentally unpacked the day and reached the conclusion that our holiday had been great, but very full on and that maybe she was just tired. I hoped so as I felt like my daughter had become a different person on holiday and I was not a fan of the new version or vocabulary!
The conversation also shed a very bright light on the cultural difference between my South African husband and I. I am always aware how different we are but there are times where that space seems a little more substantial and more of a chasm than a quirky little blip. As it turns out, my husband has a very hard time justifying the amusement arcades. He believes that they are a precursor to mainstream gambling and that they represent a conflict in his religious beliefs. Truth be told, he would prefer we avoided them altogether. Now, was this another part of his super strict childhood where secular music, magic and Harry Potter would have been banned from the home? Or was this a valid concern for our daughter’s future and was visiting a seaside arcade putting her on the path to addiction and gambling?
Needless to say, our unpacking of the day got heated as I believe seaside arcades are innocent fun and part of British culture. Myself and many folks my age visited arcades as children with our pocket money. It was harmless fun and usually a good way of ditching the parents for an hour as it was too loud and too hectic for them. We turned out ok. He went off to bed in the less than pleasant mood and I stayed up – well into the early hours of the morning listening to music and pondering it all.
I still believe it’s innocent fun. The candyfloss we bought won’t set our daughter on a path to obesity. The roller coasters we went on won’t tempt our child into a life of reckless behaviour. As for the religious aspect – many churches have paid raffles and bingo nights. I guess that will be labelled fundraising and placed in the grey area, where it is ok to get members of the public to gamble their money.
Those last few hours, filing my thoughts away in my mind in the early hours of our last morning, were the most relaxed I had been in years. Everybody else had gone to bed in a sulk which was not the ideal way to end a holiday but I was relaxed in the knowledge that we had made every effort to make it fun and enjoyable. You can be in a fabulous location, away from the day to day, right by the sea but you will still never be able to please everyone.
Was this a typical holiday? Is this normal family stuff? Guess we will find out when we toddle off on holiday again next year!