Family holidays
on stopping being a child and savouring 'those' moments.
I stopped going on holiday with my parents when I was about 15.
The first time I stayed at my nan’s in the guise of studying for my GCSEs, but the reality was I didn’t want to be seen in a campervan en France AND being at nan’s meant daily birthday cake for pudding.
Once I hit 16, I’d wave the family off and then proceed to lock all the doors and windows and place my baseball bat somewhere grabbable, in case I had to defend the place from villains or chancers. I’d spend the days in relative peace and then, as night fell, I had a fail-safe process of barricading myself in (table behind front door and chair against the bedroom one). The only action the bat saw was to squash the spiders that emerged to taunt me - and my parents would return to shrouds of toilet tissue covering their remains all round the house.
Over time I went to uni, moved to London and the holiday question never really came back up until I was about 28. Then a decade of sporadic mini breaks emerged. Bring the boyfriend-now-husband. Bring the dog. Come for a couple of nights if you can spare the time. Let’s celebrate soandsos birthday.
It took some practice to re-holiday with family. Year one had me and then-boyfriend-now-husband trying to book flights back earlier than planned. Then there was the year where then-boyfriend-now-husband went down for several days with severe toothache and no-one was entirely sure it wasn’t him playing a ‘get out of socialising’ card.
Most of my tension around family holidays stemmed from wanting to do all the things and see all the sights, whilst - in a way only the Brits can - insisting I was totally happy to go along with everyone else’s plans. I’d quietly seethe in the back of the car, regressing like I was once more in junior school, with the added bonus return of travel sickness.
Covid provided a chance to reset on the family holidays. That, combined with my divorce from corporate life and starting a new business. Family dynamics had shifted. People had moved away.
What I want from a holiday also changed - instead of being in the bustle, I’d happily settle for a mooch somewhere, a walk, and to settle down with my journal or book.
I wave goodbye to the now-husband and dog (me being away is a mini holiday for them too!) and travel a couple of hours to gatecrash the family holiday. I leave the planning to my dad and sister and I come swanning along a couple of days in, once they’ve found their bearings and stocked the fridge.
I know what I want from the break and what to expect. I’ll get a couple of uninterrupted hours early in the morning to work perhaps, or journal, or read. If I like what they’ve got planned for the day I’ll join them, if not, I’ll stay back and do ‘stuff’. We’ll come together for food in the evening, sometimes play a game or watch a movie, and then I’m off to bed early with my book and a chance of a great Oura score the next morning.
As long as I have a sea view, a place to walk, something to write on and too many books (lie, there is no such thing as too many books!) then I’m pretty satisfied.
I’ve just returned from five days in Cornwall. I’d packed for the heatwave that most definitely didn’t travel down with me. Misty mornings that lasted to the afternoon. Windburn. Torrential rain. Stuck inside whilst the weather weathered. These weren’t on my holiday bingo card.
Old me would have been (quietly) frustrated that I couldn’t get out and explore. TBH I am pretty miffed not to have found a bookshop or little pottery place to satiate my shopping habit. Instead I saw it as a gift of time and quiet - a chance to get through more books, catch up on substack, sit and think about stuff, as well as to look inward at our small family unit instead of what’s happening out there.
In years, months, days even to come, I won’t necessarily remember the place, but I will remember the people, the rituals, the ease you can only get when you are surrounded by those who know - and accept - the best and worst of you. Cliched as it sounds, time is finite, and my family holidays are a chance to savour the small moments - words misheard or misspoken, wrong turns taken, jokes that aren’t funny to anyone but us. I will miss it when its not there.
Lee x
PS. How’s your approach to holidaying changed over the years? Where are you going this year?
I share your feelings on so much of this. I think if it wasn’t for many members of my family reading my Substack, I might write more about this topic 😂.
I feel as I get older that I’m more able to relinquish control and go with the flow. It’s definitely easier when it’s just you and your family rather than with the added complexity of partner.
Hope you’re feeling refreshed! It sounds like a very chilled week, despite the weather!