Ladies and Gentlemen,
Welcome aboard the school holidays. Emergency exits are situated…well, there are no emergency exits, you are on this ride until the first week in September. Temporary respite may be found in Pimms bottles.
In approximately 5 minutes you will hear the first request for a drink. When you have delivered the drink and resettled yourself in your chair, this will be followed by a request for some food. Once this has been dealt with, and you think you might read a paragraph of the newspaper, child number two goes through the same process, followed then by child number three. By the time you have fed child number three, child number one will want a drink again. To save time set up a full wedding buffet and bar in the lounge so you can sit down for 5 minutes.
By half past ten this morning you will have arrived at your holiday destination – ‘Bored’. It is a small, grey place, just outside of Albania, and your children will spend much of the summer there. But it is OK. You are armed. You have stock piled craft ideas for just this situation.
|Maybe next year we will go here…|
You will run out of both ideas and patience by day three in Bored. Day trips are available at a premium. Your purse will be empty by the end of the week, you will be forced to start a business selling knick-knacks made out of the lolly straws you bought to do craft with the children, before discovering they don’t want to make things, they just want to cover everything in glitter. Including you. Luckily the disco look is quite fashionable so you don’t mind so much. But you do need to get out before that twitch gets any worse….
And then it rains. Which means all indoor options available for the distraction of small peeps are rammed to the rafters with hot, sugar fuelled tiny rioters with shrill voices and no manners. And that is just your kids, other people’s are savages. SAVAGES. You could go to the cinema, but all kids films are on at peculiar times of day, and will have been completely pre-booked in February by people with psychic weather prediction abilities. Ditto bowling.
‘Lets have a movie afternoon at home’, you cheerfully offer, ‘We can have popcorn, it will be fun.’ It will be fun, as long as your idea of fun is picking popcorn off of sofas, floors, pets, and out of hair. For a week.
But then, it is all OK, the sun is shining again the following day, so you pack your entire house into a giant Cath Kidston holdall or three and head for the beach, where you cram you and your family into a 3 foot square space in between all the other families, impossibly slim, very tanned women, and Dutch youths who insist on repeatedly kicking footballs at your toddler. Your sandwiches are accompanied by the forced jollity of Radio 1 being blasted out by the gaggle of teenagers next to you. You would complain, but at least the music is slighting masking the sound of their swearing, meaning you don’t have to explain to your youngest and most inquisitive offspring what a slag is.
Then home again, with hot, pink, sandy children who are exhausted and grumpy but won’t go to sleep until way past bedtime because:-
- ‘It isn’t a school night’
- ‘I am not tired’
- ‘(insert name of choice) is allowed to stay up til 2.30am in the holidays’
- ‘It is too light’
- ‘It is too hot’
- ‘I need a drink/wee/rare crystal from the depths of the amazon before I go to sleep’