Daily writing prompt #11
There are a few contenders for this. The holiday we had in Tunisia a year after we were married, and the mind-boggling experience of my wife boldly heading off down side alleys to explore with little regard for muggers or thieves.
The times we have been in the Caribbean and spent two weeks at a time on beautiful islands, being lazy and feeling pampered. Meeting great people and drinking too many potent exotic cocktails, and realising that might be why they were great people.
With four children, our family didn’t do holidays as such. We would turn visiting relatives into a little holiday. Or make an opportunity out of my father being a relief manager in Bournemouth for a few weeks. We upped sticks and moved to a B&B, and we played on the beach, my mother sunbathed, my father worked, and we all met for dinner.
For me, the memorable one has to be a family boating holiday on the Norfolk Broads when I was a kid. Partly because it was a full-blown, pack the car up, head off on an adventure, not coming back for ten days, actual holiday.
It was originally intended to be us and an aunt, and uncle, and two cousins all together in a ten-berth boat. They had to cancel, and good job they did, because ten of us would have been a cosy fit.
It was a delight, waking up to the smell of eggs and bacon my mother was cooking in the oh-so-dinky galley kitchen. The slightly misty rivers full of splashes of fish and the noise of birds and rustle of the reeds made everything feel exciting and unusual.
We got to stop at endless pubs, have lunch and dinner, and take afternoon breaks for a cold beer for the captain of the boat. The sense of adventure for us kids, jumping off and tying up the boat when we stopped anywhere.
There were mishaps like running aground. My father dropping his glasses overboard, and tying a bit of fishing line to a spare pair to see if they floated or sank. (Was it worth going back to look for them or would they be long gone? We didn’t go back.)
My three sisters, for some reason, each returned from a pub toilet with pieces of toilet paper as a ‘souvenir’. Nope, no idea either, and it should be noted that not one of them has ever come up with a half-decent explanation. It was just a pub. No special significance, nobody royal had ever visited, and I can’t imagine the bathrooms were anything to write home about – on paper or a piece of toilet roll.
Lolling about on the boat and waving to people as we passed, didn’t know them, it’s just what you do, nobody knows why. Playing cards and board games and whiling away the time between stops. Fishing on quiet, peaceful lakes. Taking a turn steering the boat as it chugged along.
I imagine now everyone would be staring at their phones or have headphones in and be ignoring most of what was being said. Back then there were no such things, and I only remember us kids chattering away happily and lots of laughter, and round the next corner another pub and packets of crisps and shandy and long, warm evenings.
a blog less ordinary 