It’s right enough you know. With the sun splitting the skies across the country and the Falkirk Fair fortnight just 10 weeks away, who would want to spend, spend, spend to soak it up abroad?
Back in the day when the children were a lot younger I always ran the risk of being accused of being less than a ‘proper’ dad if I had failed to book two weeks in the Balearic Islands for the main holiday of the year. Sun, sand and sea were high on their agenda and packing a bag and inflatable (or two) for the hotel pool or beach in July was, just like Christmas I suppose, an event which could not be avoided – and never mind the cost.
To be fair though they loved it, and, after the stress of the airport check-in, the dodgy in-flight food and the roller coaster coach ride from Palma to Port de Pollenca, I have to admit I did too.
In my view, long lazy days in guaranteed sunshine doing very little apart from supervising swimming lessons, ordering up some wicked burgers, fries with cokes at meal times and popping into the pharmacy now and then for more sun screen to protect the family from the rays always had a lot going for it.
I would arrive home suitably tanned and exhausted and (perversely I suppose) be cheered by the fact that, during the two weeks we had been away, it had rained every day here.
I also have to admit of course that, despite the attractive shade of bronze I had taken on board, I was just as often left more than a bit red-faced to note that others who had opted for ‘hame’s best’ that summer were just as brown as me and still had cash in the bank!
All things considered, I won’t be rushing to the travel shop anytime soon.
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