Summer Hols

a5After the freedom of the Summer hols I always feel so mean shoving their free, brown, feral feet back into black leather school schools which according to my teen ‘feel like bloody concrete blocks’  Said concrete blocks are a pair of sized 10 £85 Clarks men’s shoes.  We’ve tried cheaper brands but they never last, they fall apart and are just plain crap in comparison; no Aldi alternatives when it comes to school shoes.

‘Family time’ is a much used bullshit phrase to try and make you feel guilty about not having Kodak/Ahh Bisto moments each week.  I’ll tell you what family times means on holiday, it means two weeks of all being in the same room together because its cheaper!  This way you get to know each other more, inside and out, including yelling at each other to hurry up as you need the loo and being the only female in the household you can’t just pee in a cup in the kitchen.

My boys made me laugh me head off as well as did my head in during our two weeks driving about France.  My teen held my hand in the midst of the biggest, wildest, loudest thunder and lightening storm I’ve ever seen.  He was laughing at me because I was genuinely scared, my boys were not, but I loved the fact he grabbed my hand to comfort me at the same time.  He did my head in because he was always hungry and he always wanted to be up, out and about doing something.  And for this I thank the international language of football, which on Ile De Re, he played with Italian, French and German boys each and every afternoon.  With some (literally) schoolboy German they all managed to communicate well enough to have a great time.  Even my 8 year old was in goal and was called ‘De Gea’ by his international team mates which made him beam from ear to ear.

We saw Notre Dame (13 yo -Mum, it’s massive!)  went to the Louvre (8yo -Mum, why was everyone sad and naked in the olden days?) and looked at Anish Kapoors giant vagina art in Versailles (no comment from either child).  (Both – Can we have another Nutella crepe?)  When we got home I asked the boys which bit they liked the best and both unanimously said ‘being at the very front of the car ferry on the way home when the ramp was put down in Dover and being first off the boat.’  Mechanics and engerneeering trumps thousands of years of arts and culture, so be it.

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