Short break in London

We made it to London. Two nights, three days and no disasters. Despite only being a short break, it was just long enough to feel like we’d got away and had a proper little holiday. If you’re planning a short break in London, this brief diary of our time away might be of interest!

We’d booked to stay in a Holiday Inn Express in Limehouse. Over recent years, we’ve found that Holiday Inns in London are actually often cheaper than Travelodges or Premier Inns – or at least they are if booking relatively last-minute. The bonus with the HI Express is that you also get breakfast included – which, for two adults and two children, works out as pretty good value. We paid just under £70 a night – I have seen cheaper at other times, but this was the best deal I could find anywhere for when we wanted to stay, unless we chose to stay much further out. With regard to location, Limehouse is actually pretty good. The hotel is five minutes’ walk from the station, which is on the DLR. Two stops and you’re at Bank/Monument, which is more central than you’d think, and serves six underground lines. Alternatively, two stops takes you to Tower Gateway – perfect for visits to the Tower of London, which was the main purpose of our break.

We arrived a little later than planned, parking near a friend’s house in Eltham and getting the bus to Greenwich North station. We had debated getting the train to London, but it’s just so expensive when you have to buy tickets for four. If you can find free parking on the outskirts of London, however, your transport works out pretty cheaply. Children are free on the buses and the underground; the only time we had to buy tickets for them was on the train back to Eltham. For the benefit of the uninitiated, you can also use your contactless bank cards as Oyster cards, tapping in and out of tubes, buses and even the train to/from Eltham – this makes travel a lot quicker and easier, and is cheaper than buying individual tickets or travelcards.

From North Greenwich, we took the Emirates cable car across to Royal Docks. If you’ve not done this before, I thoroughly recommend it. If you have a travelcard, you’re entitled to a reduced price ticket (currently £3.50 single, rather than £4.50). Alternatively, you can use your contactless card and the reduced price is added on to your travel charge for the day. Again, we had to buy tickets for the boys, but this didn’t cost much (£2.30 – sadly no discount as we hadn’t needed to buy them travelcards). It is a fairly short trip, but you get some good views over the Thames and east London. The area is being developed at the moment, so the views are rather industrial, but it’s still a fun way to cross the river for not too much money. If you’re lucky (we weren’t this time), you can also get a cable car to yourself.

View from the Emirates

We checked in to the Holiday Inn around 3pm – too early for dinner but too late to do a whole lot. We decided to go for a walk along the Thames Path instead, an area we hadn’t really visited before and just minutes from the hotel. Despite the cold and the wind, it was a pleasant walk, the unusual sky setting off the river views perfectly.

We headed down some steps near the Prospect of Whitby, a sixteenth-century pub, and onto the ‘beach’ at the river’s edge. It was the first time I’d actually been on the Thames beach, and we had an interesting time finding bits of pottery and what genuinely looked like human bones – made all the more creepy by the gallows standing nearby (where apparently the pirate Captain Kidd, among others, was hung).

Hangman’s noose outside the Prospect of Whitby

After one bone too many, we headed back along the path. Disappointingly, some bits of the path are closed after a certain time, so for a large portion of the path we couldn’t actually see the Thames! Once we were back by the river, we got some beautiful views of the Shard and Tower Bridge, and we continued along to St Katherine Docks, a little-known area of restaurants, bars and boats just behind the Tower of London. By this time it was getting late and we were getting thirsty, so we headed back to the Prospect of Whitby, which had tempted us earlier.

The Prospect of Whitby, dating from 1520, claims to be the oldest riverside pub in London, and can be found in many a guidebook. It’s full of history and tales of ghosts – and, according to Lee, good beer. It’s a bit of a maze inside; we found a table in a room upstairs, where we relaxed with a drink – and then decided to stay for dinner. I thoroughly recommend it for a meal or just for a drink; it’s family-friendly (but not in the traditional ‘gastro-chain-pub’ type way) and the surroundings make for a very pleasant afternoon or evening. Sadly, the February chill made going outside an unpleasant thought, but I’d imagine it would be lovely to relax on the terrace overlooking the river in warmer months.

We headed back to our hotel after dinner. I’ve got to say, it’s one of the friendliest places I’ve stayed, especially for a chain hotel – all the staff were exceptionally friendly and helpful. We were a little more positive about going back to our hotel than we normally would be – with our children that little bit older, and with our eldest now owning a mobile phone, we felt that the time had come to progress to the hotel bar for our evening game of cards while the kids were in bed, rather than the bathroom. Luckily, our room was on the same floor as reception and the bar. We gave the boys strict instructions not to leave the room unless there was a fire (just an alarm? Clothes on and walk calmly to reception, closing the door behind you. Fire in the room? Get the hell out in your underwear…), to ignore it if anyone knocked on the door, to phone us if anyone knocked on the door twice, and otherwise not to phone us unless there was an emergency (someone’s been sick? Emergency. Brother annoying you? Definitely not an emergency). With that, we wandered around the corner and spent a pleasant evening chatting, drinking and playing backgammon and cards, arriving back in our room at a perfectly reasonable night-time hour to find the boys fast asleep – bliss.

The next day was museums day, based around a 2pm appointment at Shepherd’s Bush, where my eldest was meeting his friend to be the fourth person in their group for the Star Wars virtual reality experience. Museums worked well, partly because there were a few not too far away from the Shepherd’s Bush area, and partly because it didn’t matter how long (or not) we spent there, because we didn’t have to pay. We made the mistake of going with the boys’ choice and heading to the Natural History Museum first. Not that there’s anything wrong with the Natural History Museum – it’s great, just not at 11am on the first day of half-term.

Natural History Museum

We had to queue to get in, and then it was heaving once we were in there. If you have children, I recommend leaving it until a random Sunday – or, even better, an inset day – preferably when the weather’s good and other people will be doing something outside. If you don’t have children, avoid school holidays and weekends at all costs! We made the double mistake of trying to see the dinosaurs first (the reason why the boys had wanted to visit). It was so packed that you really couldn’t see anything – unfortunately, though, there is a one-way system through the exhibit, so we had to shuffle our way through the whole thing just to be able to give up and get out. The other sections we saw weren’t so bad but, to be honest, we were too pissed off after the dinosaurs to really appreciate them.

Having had as much of the Natural History Museum as we could stomach, we hot-footed it over to Westfield at Shepherd’s Bush, where the Star Wars experience was based. If you’ve not been to Westfield before and you’re a Primark kind of girl (or guy), forget it. All the shops seemed to be high-end, from Debenhams or John Lewis at the most affordable to designer brands – nothing to see here. We couldn’t even find anywhere to have a quick, cheap lunch, resorting to buying sandwiches from Waitrose and eating them undercover next to the car park, as it was to cold to go outside. (Note: there is a Wagamama’s – and plenty of other restaurants, none of which I can remember – outside Westfield, but we were pushed for time.) Lunch eaten, we handed Finn over to his friend’s parents and off we headed to Museum No. 2.

(I can’t personally recommend Star Wars – partly because I didn’t do it and partly because the idea of wearing virtual reality goggles for half an hour actually makes me feel sick. But my son, his friend and his parents all loved it, and said it was brilliantly done. So if you’re ten or over, don’t get travel sick and like the idea of shooting a few Stormtroopers, go for it.)

Museum No. 2 was the British Museum, at the request of our youngest (leftover) son. He has currently got an obsession with the Ancient Greeks (Greece was his choice for half-term, but sadly our budget couldn’t stretch), and wanted to see all the Greek artefacts. We wandered around looking at pottery, coins, statues and the like (the ‘winged lion phallus’ was my personal favourite) until Son No. 2 had had enough and it was time to meet Son No. 1 (kindly delivered to us at the museum).

A wingld lion phallus. Of course.

The British Museum was much quieter than its Natural History counterpart, so a better choice for school holidays. If you’ve not been before, prepare to be overwhelmed – there’s no hope of seeing everything in one visit. Pick a theme and come back another day to see some other stuff.

By the time we left, we were hungry and tired and it was rush hour. The queue just to get into Holburn station reminded us why rush hour was not a good time to travel by tube, so we started walking towards the next station, planning to stop for a drink anywhere that looked suitable. We came across a Wetherspoons (Penderel’s Oak) and went in gratefully, desperate to have a drink and get out of the biting cold. Where I live, we have two Wetherspoons, both family-friendly – this one, not so much. We did see one other family but it was mostly people in their twenties, here for after-work drinks (or a strange Monday night out). By some miracle, we found a table, but the panicked instructions at the bar when Lee ordered two J20s with straws, that children had to leave by 7pm, meant that we didn’t have long. Still, it was nice to be warm and have something to drink, and it kept us going for the journey back to Limehouse.

Turns out there aren’t a whole lot of places to eat around the hotel. If we’d fancied another tube journey, there’s loads in St Katherine Docks or Canary Wharf. But we plumped instead for a Chinese a couple of minutes’ walk from the hotel – ‘cos everyone (including the children) likes Chinese, right? Hmmm – turned out this Chinese (Shan Shui Jian) is rather ‘authentic’ and not your typical special fried rice/chow mein emporium. It specialises in lamb hotpot, and the menu proudly tells you all the different body parts it makes use of. Non-intestinal/spinal-cord options included tofu skin, bean curd and ‘fungus’. It took me back to our visit to Hong Kong, where we’d got a surprise when we discovered that real Chinese food is not quite the same as you’d get in a UK Chinese takeaway. Still, we found a few less scary-sounding options, which were actually delicious, and Lee bravely tried a hotpot. I’d thoroughly recommend the restaurant if you like trying new stuff, but perhaps not if you are a little more conservative in your food choices!

The next morning, the kids woke us early and not so bright, and, after another filling breakfast, we headed off to the Tower of London, the main purpose of our trip to London. Having got to 40 and still not seen the Crown Jewels or visited one of the country’s most iconic landmarks, I had thought it was about time. One of the reasons we’d not visited before is the price – it’s not cheap. It’s also not somewhere you want to go for a short visit in amongst ticking off your other London must-see boxes – you really need a full day to see everything. Given that there’s actually lots to see and do there, the price doesn’t work out too bad. If you book online in advance, you can save yourself quite a bit too – a family ticket for two adults and up to three children costs £53 rather than the £63 you’d pay on the door. If you’re organised enough to print tickets before you head to London, or your hotel is nice enough to print them for you (as ours was), I’d recommend doing so – it means that you can head straight to the gate rather than queuing first to pick up your tickets. To be fair, the queues weren’t actually too bad when we visited, but I’d imagine they’d be a lot worse on a warmer, drier, sunnier day. Something to also bear in mind is that if you book a ticket to arrive before 10.30am, you can save yourselves another £14 (£39 for a family ticket). We opted not to take the risk, as we didn’t want to rush in the morning (the ticket is invalid if you arrive late). Had we known in advance just how early the kids would wake, we would have booked the cheaper ticket, no question. As it was, we deliberately took our time at breakfast and packing up our stuff just so that we would arrive after 10.30 on principle. Not really our cleverest moment. (Note: according to the website, the prices are going up in March 2018.)

You may have picked up that the weather wasn’t brilliant. The previous two days had been icy cold with a biting wind – on this day, rain was added to the equation. When we had left home two days ago, it had been sunny and relatively warm – stupidly, I assumed the weather would be the same in London (it’s normally warmer!) and left my hat, scarf and jumpers at home. Consequently, I spent most of our time in London shivering, wishing I’d brought warmer clothes and searching (unsuccessfully) for a cheap hat to buy. While walking towards the Tower of London, we spotted a hat lying on the ground. It was bright pink, it was soaking wet and it seemed to be mocking my own lack of a hat. I picked it up and put it on a bench for its owner to find, trying to console myself with the fact that it was pink and I wouldn’t have worn it anyway. A little later, while walking around the Tower of London, we spotted another hat, left on one of the information boards inside. This one was grey, dry and completely wearable. I can’t pretend I wasn’t tempted but I tried to think of the owner, cold and shivering and hoping they’d be reunited with their hat; I left it where it was. A little while later, I found another abandoned hat. This one was (also) bright pink and child-sized. It’s probably a good job, because otherwise I’d have had it. There’s only so much hat-taunting I can take.

Hats aside, we enjoyed our time at the Tower of London, and I thoroughly recommend it. There is lots to see – the White Tower, which is the main building in the middle, the battlements walk, the Bloody Tower, where the two princes were reportedly imprisoned (and murdered?), the ravens, small exhibitions on torture instruments and the menagerie that was once at the zoo (not related), and probably lots more that I can’t remember.

Ravens at the Tower of London

There were activity sheets for the children, but the idea of completing soggy sheets of paper in the rain put us off. As it was, the amount of information presented around the tower was perfect – enough to tell you something but not so much that you got put off and didn’t even try to read it. As with anywhere, we would have enjoyed our visit more had the weather been better – we didn’t wander around the outside as much as we’d have liked to, preferring to dart into anywhere under cover. We were a bit concerned that eating would be a problem – we hadn’t brought packed lunches, figuring that we wouldn’t want to sit outside anywhere to eat them, and we worried that everyone would be trying to crowd into the one open restaurant. (Note: sadly, you’re not allowed to leave and come back in, which is a pity, as there are several restaurants just outside.) A first glance into the restaurant confirmed our fear – it was heaving. However, there are actually loads of tables, and people were leaving at roughly the same rate as coming in, so it wasn’t too difficult to find ourselves somewhere to sit. The food was the usual price you’d expect for captive consumers, but it was nice enough and there was a decent selection of hot and cold food (we’d probably have chosen hot if we’d known for definite that we’d have got a table – hey ho). The obvious jewel in the crown of the Tower of London is just that – the Crown Jewels. Time it wrong and you’ll queue to get into the building where they’re housed. Luckily, we timed it right and walked almost straight in.

This is as close as you get to a photo of the Crown Jewels

Needless to say, they are rather impressive. Awestruck at so much gold, my youngest spent the entire time asking just how much we thought each and every piece was worth. There is a slow conveyor belt taking you past the actual crowns – this sounds awful but actually means that you get a good opportunity to look at everything without people crowding round and blocking your view. You get to go on again and again if you so wish, so there’s no worries about missing anything. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to take photos for security reasons. In fact, I have very few photos of the Tower of London at all, mainly because it was too cold to take my gloves off to take a photo!

The White Tower – photo taken from inside another tower!

Sadly, the Tower of London was the end of our visit to London. We left around 4.30, with the hope of missing the rush hour – we kind of succeeded. We headed back to the hotel first, where they’d kindly looked after our bags, and then got back on the DLR to Lewisham, ready for the train to Eltham. We timed it pretty well, with only a five-minute wait at Lewisham, and we avoided the worst of the crush, getting seats for most of the journey. By the time we’d walked back to our car from Eltham station, we’d missed the worst of the rush hour traffic, and the A2/M2 wasn’t too bad. We took the opportunity to stop at Bluewater for dinner, eventually arriving back to a freezing house just in time for the boys’ bedtime. Luckily, I have plenty of warm clothes at home, as the heating took a while to kick back in.

Well, that was our mini-holiday to London – and, despite being just a couple of days, it really did feel like a break. There’s something to be said about getting away from your home for a few days, where you can’t worry about work, chores or the usual stresses of life. London isn’t a bad option for February, and it’s not too expensive if you plan carefully. Just maybe avoid the Natural History Museum if you’d rather look at dinosaurs than the back of the person in front of you…

Priorities

Once upon a time, before children, we were fairly comfortably off. My husband and I both worked full time in teaching, him in a management position, and we brought in decent wages. Our house was smaller, meaning a relatively smaller mortgage and lower rates and bills. Our outgoings were few, and we had less time to spend the money we brought in. This meant that if we wanted or needed something, we could usually afford it, from clothes to repairs to home improvements. We went out for dinner regularly, as well as the cinema, theatre, pub, etc, and we actually had savings. It also meant we had money to spare for holidays, and we made the most of it. We weren’t extravagant by many people’s standards – 3 or 4 stars rather than 5 – but we did enjoy the opportunity to holiday wherever we fancied visiting rather than simply wherever we could afford.

Roll on several years and, like most families, we are in a somewhat different financial position. Along with children come increased outgoings, from basics like food and clothes to school uniform, extra-curricular activities and Christmas and birthday presents. More family members means a bigger car and a bigger house, and consequently higher mortgage payments or rent and bigger bills. For those families where both parents work full-time (or even part-time), childcare takes a huge chunk of earnings, and for those families where a parent gives up work or works part-time in order to look after the children, the income is of course much reduced. And most importantly – in relation to this blog – holidays are suddenly much more expensive. After the age of two, children have to pay for a seat on a plane (very often full-price). You need bigger rooms in hotels or bigger cottages to rent. You have to pay double the admission charge for many attractions. After the age of 12 (sometimes lower), children are counted as adults in the pricing for many holidays (and they’re often charged the same as adults anyway). And if you want to travel anywhere during school holidays, expect to pay four times the price (this is no exaggeration).

So how do you manage to go on holiday, given all the financial limitations of having a family? I know some people wonder how I can afford to keep going away, or why we struggle with money for some things yet still have enough to go on holiday. The answer is pretty simple: it’s all about priorities. Of course, we also do our best to holiday cheaply – we cut corners and search for bargains where we can, and I’ll share some tips for this in a future blog. But even the cheapest holiday is only doable if it’s a priority. Don’t get me wrong – we don’t put having a holiday ahead of food, bills or other essentials. You won’t find me scrabbling in the bargain bin in the supermarket to pay for half a night in a hotel, or sending my children to school in shoes with holes to pay for the luggage allowance for a flight. Nor do we go without on the whole. However, for items and purchases that are non-essential, we are quite careful – and picky – with our spending. Of course, we try to save in all the usual ways – using comparison sites for insurance, using a cashback card, looking for money-off deals when we can. But it’s more about what we choose to prioritise, and it’s rarely material things. We have absolutely no interest in branded products; although I admit there are exceptions, I’m not convinced you always get what you pay for, and more times than not you’re paying for a name and not for quality. And if I’m honest, I’m not always that bothered about quality either. I’m very happy to buy my clothes at Primark or other cheap shops, and I love picking up a bargain in a charity shop. I buy my shampoo and shower gel in the supermarket, and my make-up is Avon, not Clinique. We don’t have an X-box or PlayStation, my phone is still an iPhone 5 (£15 a month pay-as-you-go) and the boys use a cheap tablet. We don’t have Sky or any of those other expensive subscription services – we’re quite happy with Freeview, although we have more recently started ‘splashing out’ on an almighty £5 a month for Netflix! We buy second-hand cars and we drive them until they die and we have no option but to replace them. We still need to redecorate most of the house after having it re-wired over two years ago. We need new patio doors, a new sofa, a new front door, a new shower and new carpets. The thing is, much as we’d like to replace these things, drive newer cars or upgrade our phones, we could only afford to do it at the expense of holidays. It’s a simple choice – and the holidays win every time! Those who know me will recall that a while back we spent over a year without heating or hot water – no joke. Our boiler had had it – in fact, so had our whole central heating system. We would have had to save up and go without holidays for a VERY long time to afford to replace it, and we simply weren’t willing to do that. We could get by without central heating – we had a gas fire in the lounge, we bought a couple of electric heaters and I took my hot water bottle everywhere with me. We could get by without hot water – we had an electric shower, a dishwasher and a kettle, and I don’t much like baths anyway. What we couldn’t get by without was holidays. After a few months without a holiday of some sort, I’m feeling antsy. I can’t imagine how I’d feel going a year or more. I have no idea how anyone else manages it. I know most of my friends thought we were mad. We probably were. But it was a simple matter of priorities – we’d rather go on holiday than have a functioning boiler.

So when it comes to holidays, it very often boils down to a matter of priorities. Of course, this is a gross oversimplification – holidays are bloody expensive, especially when children are involved, and I know not everyone can afford to go away, regardless of how much they scrimp and save on everything else. I’m well aware that there are many people who struggle to afford to pay for food, let alone holidays, and of course I’m not advocating that they – or anyone – let their children starve to pay for a holiday. I know I’m very lucky to have a secure home and enough of a regular income to cover the basic necessities and be able to choose what to do with the excess. But choice is what it often comes down to for those living relatively comfortably on a reasonable income. Many people would prefer to spend their money on clothes, Sky or an iPhone X. Me – I’d rather go on holiday than have heating or hot water. Hey, we’re all different. I know I’m in a minority, but I’d happily sacrifice a whole bunch of things in exchange for a holiday. I’m not suggesting that everybody should follow my example, unless they too are holiday-obsessives – we all have our priorities for what to spend our money on, and holidays probably aren’t most people’s. But when people think they can’t afford to go on holiday, sometimes, maybe, it’s just that they don’t want to enough.

February fix

In theory, I should like February. It’s my birthday, for a start. And I can categorically state that I prefer it to October or November. You’re past the shortest day and you know that you’re moving (slowly) towards summer – the days are getting longer, the nights are getting shorter and signs of spring are starting to pop up all around you. Sadly, though, it’s not yet getting any warmer – which makes holidaying in February somewhat limited.

By the time February comes round, I am getting seriously itchy feet for a holiday. Because we don’t go away at Christmas, it’s usually the longest gap I go between holidays (a whopping four months, I’ll have you know!). Unless we go without the kids, we’re limited to school holidays, and I can’t wait until Easter to go away! But where exactly do you go in February?!

If we had lots of money to spare, it would be a no-brainer – we’d pop over to the Caribbean or somewhere similar for some winter sun. We did that once, back when we actually had money – half-term in Jamaica. It was bloody amazing, the weather was beautiful and we felt very smug. However, it was a long way to go for just a week; by the time we’d got over the jet lag it was nearly time to go home, and we said at the time that we wouldn’t go long-haul again for less than ten days. Either way, it’s a moot point – we certainly can’t afford Jamaica right now!

Another option would be somewhere closer to home but still warmer, like Spain. Unfortunately, it still wouldn’t be warm enough to justify the large amount of money it would cost – and it would be a lot of money. It might be out of season but it’s still school holidays, and the tour operators price their packages accordingly. Even booking independently isn’t cheap, as flight companies have caught on to the school holiday price hike.

This brings us back to the only affordable option – a break in the UK, or a ‘staycation’ as someone once dreamed up to make it sound more exotic. Of course, there’s nothing exotic about the UK in February. Even if you’re lucky enough for it to be dry, it’s guaranteed to be cold. This not only limits your options but also puts the price up. For example, camping – our favourite ‘cheap’ holiday option – is most definitely out. Another thing is that unless you’re self-catering, all meals need to be eaten inside somewhere (read cafes or restaurants) – no cheap picnic lunches. Entertainment can be free when the weather’s good – think visits to the park, long walks, days on the beach… When it’s cold – or, worse, wet – you end up paying for indoor daytime activities. Even a theoretically cheap break in the UK soon starts adding up.

Money aside, you’re still pretty limited to what you can – or would want to – do in February in the UK. ‘Outdoor’ activities seriously lose their appeal. Even visits like castles or zoos are somewhat dependent on the weather, leaving you left with indoor activities – museums, bowling, swimming, cinema, etc. One might (understandably) question the point of going away at all when most of these things are probably near your doorstep – one swimming pool or bowling alley is much like another, after all. Why would you want to travel and spend money on a hotel or cottage if you’re not seeing or doing anything you couldn’t see or do at home? It’s a fair point. The trouble is, staying at home is not a holiday. Swimming or cinema at home could be done on any old weekend. Staying at home means I’m thinking about the work that I could be doing, looking at the house and thinking about the tidying or decorating I could be doing and, most likely, carrying on with everyday chores like cooking, washing and cleaning. But even ‘everyday’ activities like swimming become a holiday if they’re done somewhere else, where I can’t do any work if I try, and where (hopefully) someone else cooks for me.

Of course, all of that said, I would still prefer to go somewhere where we can see or do at least a few things we couldn’t do at home. So where does that leave? Well, there’s Butlins – fab swimming pool and lots of indoor shows and activities. Sadly, though, too expensive for our current means. There’s Center Parcs – ha! Have you ever looked at Center Parcs prices in school holidays?! *crying with laughter emoji needed here* (Note for those who don’t know: Center Parcs is much cheaper in the rest of Europe, particularly during school holidays – although still more than we can afford at the moment, especially when travel is taken into account.) Otherwise, you’re looking for places with decent museums or similar. And where do we know with lots of museums that’s not too far away? Yup, we’re back to London.

I know, I know, I’ve been there before – both literally and figuratively. Regular readers will know that our short breaks to London haven’t always exactly been successful (see Sick of holidays?), and London isn’t always the best destination for children, especially when they’re feeling tired and whingey. But we have had a successful night in London since the disaster in my previous blog post, so I know it can be done. I’m ready to risk it for the sake of a little ‘holiday’. And, as I’ve mentioned before (London – a budget-break blog), with its wealth of free museums, London is the perfect destination for a relatively cheap ‘indoor’ break. So in a couple of weeks we’ll be ‘jetting off’ to London for two nights in a Holiday Inn Express. Our one expensive plan is to visit the Tower of London – somewhere, slightly embarrassingly, I’ve never actually been to. Other than that, we have no specific plans, just lots of ideas, which may or may not come to fruition depending on the weather, the children’s behaviour, what we feel like, etc. Unlike a couple of years ago (Holiday limitations), I have no great expectations, and I die a little when reading how excited I was about that particular trip bearing in mind how it turned out. But the kids are a bit older, they’ve been given strict instructions not to whinge, we won’t let Finn stuff himself at dinner and under no circumstances am I sleeping in the same bed as Dylan. It’s got to better, right?!

Holiday Blues

It’s so sad,
I’ve got the holiday blues.
I’m struggling with the fact
I’ve got no holiday news.
It’s only January –
It’s rainy and it’s cold.
I swear the nights are lengthening
Despite what we’ve been told.
The sky outside is like my mood
They’re both just dull and grey.
The only question on my mind:
When will we go away?
Alas, the truth is that I still
Have ten more months to wait.
Ten more months until I’m stood
At the departure gate.
Ten more months until I see
The sun and feel its heat.
Ten more months until I feel
The sand beneath my feet.
‘When are you next on holiday?’
Too many people ask.
‘October,’ I reply
Behind my I’m-not-bothered mask.
‘You’ll go on holiday before October!’
I hear you shout.
Indeed we will, of course we will,
Of that there is no doubt.
But currently, October is
The only one we’ve booked.
We’ve other hols in mind but so far
All we’ve done is looked.
We can’t do more than look until
We’ve actually got some money.
Until that point all I can do
Is dream of somewhere sunny.
I love to have a holiday
To which I can look forward.
It keeps me feeling positive,
It stops me feeling bored.
But how can I look forward without one booked?
That’s not the deal!
Unless a holiday’s confirmed,
It simply isn’t real!
So what to do? How am I going
To chase the blues away?
The answer’s easy: sod the money,
Book a holiday!

Nightmare neighbours

Your average short-haul plane isn’t exactly designed for a family of four, with three seats either side of the aisle. Over the years, we’ve experimented with a variety of combinations (the kids once sat on their own in front of us during an internal flight in Australia – bliss!) but we have pretty much settled on one configuration now: window, boy 1, boy 2, me/Lee, aisle, Lee/me, stranger, another stranger, window. To make it fair, we alternate – if I sit next to the boys on the way out, Lee sits next to them on the way back, or vice versa. We always viewed sitting next to the boys as the ‘short straw’ – much as I love them, they don’t make the best travelling companions. Past journeys have been spent listening to constant questions, trying to stop them bickering, finding things they’ve lost/dropped, getting up and down to take them to the toilet, trying to stop the drinks spilling all over their trays and holding a sick bag primed and ready. To be fair, they’re much better now they’re older, but you still don’t exactly get to sit back and relax uninterrupted with a book when you’re sitting next to children. Sitting across the aisle, however, is a different story – you can read, watch something, listen to music or even go to sleep, with no one to interrupt or disturb you. This, at least, is the theory – and it seems to be the practice with Lee. For me, on the other hand, not so much – I seem to draw the short straw whoever I’m sitting next to.

Our recent holiday to Spain is a case in point. On the way out, I sat next to the kids and Lee got the strangers. To be fair, the kids were pretty good, but they didn’t exactly make for a relaxing journey. Lee sat next to a gay couple who spent the journey bitching about all the other passengers – not only was he undisturbed for the journey but he also had entertainment if he felt like earwigging. On the journey back, Lee got the kids and I got a man who took up more than just his own seat. Now I have personal space issues at the best of times, and I don’t feel comfortable about physical contact with a stranger, especially a male stranger. Well, there was no avoiding it on that flight – my left leg was pressed up against him the whole time, there was no possibility of using the arm rest and I spent the journey leaning at an improbable angle towards the aisle, giving myself backache in the process. To top it off, the bloke behind me had unusually long legs, which he stretched out in the aisle next to me, and the bloke in front kept sitting back really heavily, making the back of the seat repeatedly bang against my legs. I felt trapped from all directions and would have gladly traded places with Lee to sit next to the children.

The journey got me thinking about all the other passengers I’ve had the misfortune to sit next to, in front of or behind. While Lee usually sits next to a nice elderly couple, or businessmen concentrating on their laptops, I always get the weirdos or the difficult ones. They include:

The couple who didn’t get up once on a 12-hour flight to Singapore. To be fair, they weren’t annoying, but I was worried for their health. What about DVTs? What about going to the toilet?!

The girl who refused all aeroplane food on a long-haul flight, eating nothing but grapes she’d brought with her, whose leg did not stop twitching up and down for the last hour, and who thought nothing of hitting me in the face when she took off her jacket, as well as spreading her belongings out on her lap and some of mine.

The people who insist on reclining the chair in front of me, even during daytime, short-haul flights, and who don’t even have the decency to put it back up when it’s time to eat. If I had a bullet point for every time this had happened, it would take up the screen ten times over. (See Too close for comfort for more on this.)

The man who fell asleep, snored loudly and whose head kept drifting worryingly towards my shoulder.

The cute toddler in the seats in front who spent the entire journey playing peekaboo with me over the back of the chair, making me feel guilty if I looked away for more than five seconds.

The not-so-cute toddler in the seats behind, who spent the entire journey kicking the back of my chair, who insisted on playing peekaboo by poking her head right through the hole between the chairs so that her face was approximately ten centimetres from mine at all times, and who thought pulling my hair was a great way to get my attention.

The parents of said toddlers, who thought they’d make their own lives easier by leaving it to me to entertain their children throughout the flight.

The arm-rest-hoggers – again, too many to mention.

The lady next to me who got up for the toilet repeatedly, meaning I was forever getting up and down and eventually gave up on anything that involved using my tray, including eating.

The man behind me who spent the whole flight getting up and down and felt the need to lean heavily on the back of my chair every time he stood up or sat down.

My personal ‘favourite’, the two over-excited pre-teen girls whose parents in their wisdom had allowed them to sit together, who were louder than my boys on a bad day, who decided to climb over me to go to the toilet instead of waiting for me to move, who fought each other physically so that my chair was constantly moving and I got kicked twice, who had no idea of personal space and thought it was okay to put their bags on the floor in front of my feet and their iPad half on my chair, and who eventually fell asleep ON me.

So in the future I’ve decided that we will no longer alternate. Lee can have the strangers and I’ll stick with the kids. Much as they can drive me mad sometimes, they’re infinitely better than the annoying, seat-reclining, leg-twitching, personal-space-hogging nightmares I usually end up with – better the devil you know, and all that. Plus in a few years’ time, when the kids are uncommunicative teenagers who only look up from their phones to grunt at the food and drink, I’ll have the quietest, most undisturbed journeys ever. I’ll finally have drawn the long straw, and I won’t be swapping for anyone!

Four star favourite

I would never have considered myself a hotel snob – I spend half my life in a tent, for goodness’ sake! I’m more than happy to stay in a Travelodge or a Premier Inn – I’ll even stay in a Formule 1 if I have to! I’ve stayed in B&Bs with a communal bathroom. I’ve stayed in 2-star hotels with barely enough space to walk around the bed. I don’t consider £100 a night good value for a hotel room and I’d balk at paying £150 unless it was a VERY nice hotel and a VERY special occasion. I’m more quantity over quality – I’d rather have a longer holiday in a bargain hotel, or have money left over to eat out or do other things, than spend it on a posh hotel. Peeling paint doesn’t bother me – nor does a bit of limescale in the bathroom, a chipped cupboard door or a slightly threadbare carpet. I absolutely draw the line at dirty – but ‘basic’ or ‘in need of renovation’ don’t really bother me. So why did I find myself disappointed on some level when we arrived at our perfectly nice 3-star hotel in Spain last week?

In truth, I think it was partly simply because it wasn’t the Bitacora (If you can’t beat them…), where we holidayed for the previous three Octobers. Our hotel in Spain could have been an amazing hotel but there would still have been an element of disappointment that it wasn’t ‘our’ hotel. But I think it’s also down to expectations and what you want out of a hotel. For many (okay, most) of our holidays, our hotel – or tent or cottage or mobile home – just serves as a base while we explore the local area. We spent days out and about, while our accommodation is just for sleeping, washing and sometimes eating in. It doesn’t need to be posh, well decorated or have great facilities – as long as it’s clean and comfortable, we’re happy. But for the last few years, our October holiday has become something else. We spend the rest of the year exhausting ourselves by trying to cram as much in as humanly possible, but our October holiday has become more about chilling out, relaxing by the pool and letting someone else cater for us. We chose Tenerife four years ago because we had already visited the island previously and done lots of the touristy stuff, so we wouldn’t have that feeling of missing out if we did very little and stayed mostly in the hotel. And that’s exactly what we’ve done for the last few years – we’ve eaten breakfast, lunch and dinner in the hotel. The kids have spent mornings and afternoons in the kids’ club, in the playground or in the pool, while we’ve been able to relax in the sun with a book and do very little. We’ve spent evenings in the mini disco and then in the bar watching the hotel entertainment. We have left the hotel – we went for walks, played mini golf, went to the beach, etc. – but we spent a large proportion of our holiday in the hotel and making the most of being all inclusive.

Once upon a time, that would have sounded like my idea of hell – in fact, on paper, it probably still does. But somewhere along the lines, your priorities and requirements change when you have children. You want somewhere with great kids’ facilities, which they will enjoy. You want somewhere where you get some time to yourself as adults but also get to enjoy family time together. But most of all, you just want a break – a chance to relax mentally and physically, to escape from work, chores and stress, and to enjoy doing nothing in the sun. The Bitacora has fitted the bill perfectly.

Although we couldn’t afford to book the Bitacora again this year, we spent a lot of time finding another hotel that would match our requirements. We found a four-star hotel in Menorca with excellent reviews – a brilliant kids’ club, delicious food and lots of facilities. But then, after the whole Monarch fiasco and our holiday being cancelled (Monarch mayhem), we ended up having to book a different hotel in Salou instead. Because it was last-minute, we were very limited with time and with budget. This hotel was 3-star, reasonably priced and had good reviews overall on Trip Advisor. But, in hindsight, it wasn’t really what we were looking for or what we had become used to.

Before I go any further, I should make it clear that there was nothing wrong with the hotel. It was 3 star. We paid less than £120 a night for bed, full board and all drinks for four of us – it was an absolute bargain. And we had a great time. But as somewhere to chill out, relax and enjoy the hotel – not so much. It was the little things. You had to find your own table in the restaurant and get your own drinks (and if you didn’t want wine/juice, you had to get your drinks from the bar and bring them into the restaurant). You even had to get your own serviettes. Drinks from the bar came in plastic or paper cups. You didn’t get given pool towels and had to pay a deposit for the TV remote control. The evening entertainment was not of a high standard. The food, while nice, was limited in choice. There were no pancakes at breakfast (this was a major disappointment for me personally). The kids’ playground was basic. The pools were small and cold. But the worst thing, for me, was that it was very British. I know, I know, I am British. But if I go to Spain, I want to feel like I’m in Spain. I don’t want to eat British food. I don’t want every other guest in the hotel to be British. I don’t want to give up on speaking Spanish to the staff because they all speak English regardless (and don’t have time for your attempts at the language). And although I confess to liking a quiz and a game of Bingo (hey, we won both!), I’m not a fan of the whole ‘Brits abroad’ entertainment- it had a slight feel of 1970s Butlins. I have no problem with other British guests or the staff speaking English – far from it – but I would prefer a mix of nationalities and to feel like I’m experiencing a bit of culture. This hotel just didn’t hit the mark in that respect.

As a base, this hotel was fine – more than fine, in fact. We actually had an apartment just outside the hotel, which gave us loads of space. It was clean, it was comfortable, the food was good, there was entertainment if we wanted it. But as somewhere to spend all day, every day, it wasn’t ideal. It made me realise that I have very different expectations depending on the holiday. Most of the year we like to explore, see and do lots of things and keep busy, and we are very happy with cheap accommodation to use as a base. But when it comes to October, our chance to relax with a bit of winter (okay, Autumn) sun, all of a sudden cheap and cheerful just won’t do. When it comes to spending your days by the pool, eating from buffets and taking advantage of the entertainment, you want that pool, food and entertainment to be something special. You want that little bit of ‘luxury’ – that extra star makes all the difference.

So next October, by hell or high water, we will be going back to the Bitacora. We will, of course, be looking for the cheapest possible accommodation for all our other holidays, in order to try to save enough money to pay for the extra expense of going four star in October. Hotel snob, me? Just occasionally.

Car hire catch

We’ve been hiring cars on holiday for many years. Back in the old days, we’d hire what we called a ‘monkey car’ – we’d find a small, independent hire company and hire the cheapest, crappiest car they had. It was an inexpensive way to explore and get to the places that public transport couldn’t get you.

Our monkey car in Crete, 2003!

As time went on and we had the kids, our requirements naturally changed. We wanted four doors, lots of boot space, booster seats and a generally safer, more reliable ride. Of course, with these extra expectations came extra costs, but it was still worth hiring a car for a few days for a bit of exploring (especially given the trials and tribulations of taking young children on public transport).

Our Chevy (or was it a Chrysler? It began with a C!) in Florida, 2008

More recently, since we started booking holidays independently rather than booking packages, we’ve realised that it makes sense to hire a car for a week from the airport. It often works out cheaper than a shuttle transfer (and much cheaper than a taxi) – plus, not only can you drive yourself to the hotel without having to hang around, but you also have use of a car for the whole time you’re away (and don’t have to waste a morning wandering around looking for the best-value hire place!).

But what you often don’t realise until you pick up your hire car is that insurance is a whole extra cost. Many times we’ve seen that comprehensive insurance is included and thought we’ve got a good deal, but then found out that the excess is something ridiculous like £3,000. They will then offer you an upgrade to the insurance to bring the excess down to zero – but this usually costs close to or more than the hire itself. Even worse, certain things like windscreen and tyres are often excluded from the policy – but of course you can take out an additional policy to cover you for these. In short, you are faced with a Sophie’s choice – you either pay out another £100 or more for peace of mind or you take the risk and spend the whole holiday praying you don’t damage the car and end up spending more than the cost of your holiday.

We’ve got used to paying the extra amount over the years, trying to remember to add it mentally to the hire cost right from the start. But earlier this year, during my surprise birthday trip to Sorrento (see Sorrento out of season), Lee thought that the extra insurance was just too expensive and decided not to pay it. He figured that he’d make sure he drove extra carefully and we’d be fine – after all, we drive at home every day without damaging our cars. How many accidents have we had in 20-odd years? What were the chances of an accident in the four days we were in Italy? (Yes, I know, with our record you’d think we’d have been a bit more concerned…) It soon turned out to be a bad decision – not because we did damage the car (I know – who’d have thought it?!) but because we spent the whole holiday worrying that we might. We may have been driving carefully but that didn’t mean that anyone else was. Anyone who’s been to Italy, particularly Naples, will know that the standard of driving is on a par with Mo from Driving School (remember her?) crossed with Lewis Hamilton. Let’s just say that our Amalfi Coast drive was a somewhat hair-raising experience, and not because we’d hired a convertible. Needless to say, despite having turned out (sort of) okay in the end, we decided to pay the extra insurance in the future.

Playing at Audrey Hepburn on the Amalfi Coast, with our already-filthy car

We didn’t escape confetti and silly string all over the car as part of a local festival…

Then a couple of months ago we had a conversation I wish we’d had years ago with a friend who travels regularly for work. He told us that you could get a policy before you travel to cover you for insurance excess – and of course this policy costs a fraction of those they sell you at the hire company, despite offering the same benefits. Why didn’t we know this? Why had we never thought to find out if it was possible? We looked into it and it’s pretty straightforward. Lots of companies offer similar policies. You can either buy a single-trip policy, to cover you for a holiday, or, if you hire a car more than once a year, an annual policy for not a whole lot more than single-trip cover. In the end, for our upcoming trip to Salou, we opted for a single-trip policy with iCarhireinsurance.comfor £23, as we’re unlikely to hire a car again for another year – although I desperately wish we’d known about this before we went to Sorrento…

We’ve been using price comparison websites for years for car and house insurance – you’d think we’d have thought before about something similar for hire cars. It makes sense – how else can hire companies afford to charge so little sometimes for car hire (we’ve actually seen car hire for less than £5 a day!)? They make their money through commission on the overpriced insurance. It’s not a scam, it’s not illegal, it’s probably not even immoral; it’s no different to car insurance companies hiking up their price when it’s time to renew your policy – they’re banking on you not bothering to check out alternatives. We’re not caught out with our insurance at home, but we’ve clearly been caught out for years when hiring cars. And if we, who go abroad regularly and hire cars most years, didn’t know about this, I figure there’s a reasonable chance that a lot of other people don’t know about it either. So I feel it is my duty to let everyone know about car hire insurance, and hopefully save you some money or stress (or both) when hiring a car. Of course, a potential consequence of people knowing about getting independent insurance is that hire companies will start putting up their prices to make up for the loss of commission. So feel free to spread this around – just not too far, eh?!

Monarch mayhem

In September last year, we booked our holiday for this October half-term. Yes, I know, it’s taking being prepared to the limit, but we learned long ago that if you want cheap flights during school holidays, the earlier you book the better. We would have loved to continue our yearly trips to the Bitacora in Tenerife but we had to accept that, even with advance booking, we weren’t going to be able to afford it a fourth year running – flights to the Canaries are always expensive and the hotel isn’t cheap either. Instead, we managed to find an absolute bargain to Menorca – the flights were half what we’d been paying to Tenerife and the hotel, despite being four star and having great reviews on Trip Advisor, was actually pretty cheap too.

We should have known it was too good to be true – a couple of weeks after booking, the news was full of reports about Monarch being about to go bankrupt. Although we had booked with Travel Republic, our flights were with Monarch, and we held our breath. Then they were given a year’s reprieve and we started breathing again. It didn’t take us long to realise that it perhaps wasn’t actually the best news. We were ATOL-protected, so if they had gone bust we would have been able to get our money back and still had plenty of time to book another (hopefully) cheap holiday. Instead, the moment of truth was going to come just a couple of weeks before our holiday. Still, there was nothing we could do about it except cross our fingers. We heard nothing more about it, Monarch seemed to be doing okay, and we pretty much forgot about it over the next year.

Then a couple of weeks ago we received an email from Travel Republic: our hotel had decided to close early – the day before we were supposed to leave, specifically. They had allocated us another hotel for our last night – also all-inclusive, also four star and also in a one-bedroom apartment. However, it was also right across the other side of the island and had much worse reviews on Trip Advisor than our original hotel. Still, it was only for one night – it wouldn’t matter too much if the hotel wasn’t as nice. What would matter, however, was the fact that we would effectively lose a day of our holiday. Instead of spending our last day on an excursion or relaxing by the pool (weather permitting), we would spend it packing, checking out, driving, checking in, unpacking and generally hanging around. We were just glad that we had booked a hire car – how on earth would we have got from one hotel to the other otherwise? Not to mention any potential difficulties in getting back to the airport if we had already booked transfers from the other hotel. Still, there was nothing that could be done. It was no one’s fault (except the hotel’s, but I was trying really hard not to hold it against them). In the great scheme of things, it was no big deal. We would just try to treat it like an adventure and the chance to try another hotel.

It wasn’t the first time we’d been bumped in October. It may be half-term but it’s also the end of season, and lots of hotels, restaurants and bars are already closed. The first time it happened was the year we got married – we had booked a bog-standard hotel in Crete and ended up being moved to a five-star hotel a couple of weeks before the holiday, as our original hotel had decided not to stay open until the end of October. We were pretty happy about that one. It happened again in Turkey a few years ago, although I think we were given a little more notice this time. The hotels seemed much of a muchness, they were in the same resort and it didn’t have too much of an impact. This time was the first time it was due to happen in the middle of a holiday but never mind – at least we were going to stay in our nice hotel for the majority of the holiday. Plus it would make for a bumping blog post…

We should have realised that that wouldn’t be it – this was a Sennett Holiday after all – but so caught up were we in the ‘excitement’ of the hotel change that we forgot all about Monarch. That was, until we went to the pub with friends last week. ‘What are you going to do about your holiday?’ they asked. We looked at them blankly. ‘Monarch?’ they prompted. We realised their year was up and, judging by the reports all over the news (which we had been oblivious to), it wasn’t looking good for them. We checked the internet before bed – the midnight deadline was gone but there was no more news. We tried to remain hopeful. The next morning the news was not good – Monarch was no more. All flights and holidays were cancelled, those already on holiday were currently stranded and anyone without ATOL or ABTA protection was screwed.

Luckily, because we had booked a flight-plus holiday with Travel Republic, we knew we wouldn’t lose our money. But we had no idea where we stood in terms of a holiday. Would they simply transfer us onto other flights? How was the accommodation affected? If we had to book another holiday, would there be anything affordable – and would we receive any refund in time to pay for it? And what about all those other things we had booked – car hire, airport parking and airport hotel?

It took a while to get some answers. Travel Republic were a little slow at putting out a statement, leading me to ask for one via Twitter and Facebook. Once the statement was out, it became clear that we could choose between a refund or an alternative, but it still wasn’t entirely clear whether the holiday could be directly transferred to a suitable alternative (as had been going to happen with our hotel) or whether we would have to pay any extra. I managed to set up some correspondence via Facebook and via the customer support request on the website, and soon found out it was the latter. Fair enough – except there were no affordable alternatives. As I mentioned previously, the earlier you book the better when it comes to half-term flights. Booking less than three weeks before half-term – not to mention the fact that all the other airlines were quickly taking advantage of the Monarch situation – meant that the prices were extortionate. If we had still wanted to go to Menorca and stay in our original hotel(s), it would have cost us nearly another £1,000 to fly there. We started looking at other packages but everything seemed to be well out of our price range. A lovely client offered us use of a flat in Malta, but the flights were almost as much as our whole all-inclusive holiday had cost. We started thinking about a cottage in the UK somewhere but even they weren’t that cheap. Add on food and days out – because lying on the beach wasn’t going to cut it in sunny England – and we were paying almost as much as for our four-star hotel in Menorca, but with a lot less for our money.

We had miserably resigned ourselves to not going on holiday (the first October half-term in fourteen years!) when Lee had an idea. The current political situation in Spain, with regard to Catalonian independence, is pretty unstable – would that have transferred to the price of flights to Catalonia? Sure enough, a quick search on Travel Republic demonstrated that we could fly to Barcelona for not much more than we had paid a year ago for flights to Menorca. Catalonia was the only affordable alternative. They weren’t the best-timed flights and they were with an airline we’d never heard of (Vueling, anyone?) but they were just about affordable. We found a few all-inclusive hotels in Salou that had space and plumped for the one with the best reviews. A double room with no balcony, on top of the flights, would have brought the holiday cost to about the same as our original holiday. Unfortunately, we didn’t fancy sitting in the bathroom of an evening once the kids were in bed, so we decided we were willing to pay a little extra for a two-bedroom apartment (there weren’t any one-bedroom options!). Overall, this holiday was going to be a little more expensive, but not too much – we just felt lucky that we had found something.

Of course, finding an alternative holiday was only half of it – we still had to work out how to transfer the old one across. I tried the trusty Facebook messenger and sent a message via their website, but soon got itchy feet. I tried to phone but after well over half an hour on hold I gave up. In the afternoon, with still no word on Facebook or the website, I tried to phone again – I couldn’t even get through to ‘hold’ this time, and spent an hour listening over and over again to the engaged tone. We started to worry. There were lots of other people in our boat – what if they’d all discovered the same alternative as us? What if it had run out by the time we got through or what if the price had doubled? We decided the only ‘safe’ option was to book the holiday now and then try to get our refund. Luckily, however, a live chat window popped up while we were trying to book. The very nice man I ‘spoke’ to confirmed that our plan would work, and told us that he would cancel the original holiday for us and issue a refund. Success!

So where are we now, a week later, and with less than two weeks to go until the actual holiday? Well, Holiday Inn, with whom we had booked a no-longer-needed room at Luton airport, are in my very good books – despite us having booked at the no-cancellation rate, they have still given us a refund. I’m still waiting to hear from Holiday Extras, with whom we booked our airport parking, as to whether we can transfer our Luton booking to Gatwick, and whether it will cost us any extra. We’ve cancelled our car hire, which we didn’t have to pay until we got there, but are yet to book a car for Barcelona. We received a random refund from Travel Republic for £182 today – we’re yet to receive the rest (or understand where the figure of £182 comes from) and in the meantime we have a pretty whopping credit card bill ahead of us. The kids would really like to go to Port Aventura, the Disney-style theme park near Salou (and, if I’m honest, so would I) but this is another £200+ that we hadn’t been planning on spending. Oh yes, and there’s a reasonable chance of civil war breaking out at our new holiday destination, resulting in another cancellation or maybe just some interesting demonstrations while we’re out there.

So what have we learnt? ATOL is very important, boys and girls – you never know what’s around the corner. And next year maybe we will just stick with our tried-and-tested Bitacora in Tenerife, despite the cost – with any luck, British Airways aren’t about to go under any time soon, and, unlike Menorca, Tenerife stays open all year round. In the meantime, I suspect there may be more October holiday disasters just around the corner…!

UPDATE
We now have all our money refunded by Travel Republic (minus a £10 ATOL fee I didn’t realise we’d paid but I’m bloody glad we did!). Holiday Extras have kindly waived the cancellation fee for the Luton airport parking and we are now booked in at Gatwick. And we have booked car hire for around £30 less than we would have paid in Menorca. Trying to focus on the £30 car hire and £60 airport hotel costs that we’ve saved, and not the £10 ATOL fee, £40 credit card fee, £10 dearer airport parking and nearly £200 more spent on a 2-bedroom apartment…

The one with the earquaz (a Sennett Holiday Disaster story)

One of my earliest Sennett holidays was a few years before I officially became a Sennett, when Lee and I went to Cyprus back in 1999. It was a bit of a funny time – with the dawning of the new millennium, there was lots of talk among the superstitious about the end of the world. It was also the year that we had the total solar eclipse in Europe, which added to the superstition. Unfortunately, the eclipse occurred while we were actually on the plane, so we missed the whole thing (had we been a bit more informed, I’m sure we’d have timed things a little better!).

We arrived at our hotel, having missed the excitement of the eclipse, to find the receptionist a little flustered. She told us that there had been an ‘earquaz’ that afternoon. We were confused. It took quite a lot of repetition and mimes for us to finally work out that there had been an earthquake. It hadn’t been too serious (measuring 5.6), and there were no major casualties, but there was some building damage – as we saw on our wanders the next day – and most of the injuries that had been sustained were caused by panic (apparently, the timing of the earthquake in conjunction with the eclipse had led to more end-of-the-world panic and people throwing themselves out of windows…).

Anyway, we went upstairs to our fourth-floor room, a little concerned about the news from the receptionist. But to be honest I was too tired to worry much. While all Lee could think about was food, the travelling had obviously taken its toll on me; I was exhausted and all I could think about was lying down on our nice new hotel bed. In the end we agreed that I’d lie down and have a little nap while Lee went for a quick wander outside to find some food.

I was woken up rather abruptly by Lee throwing himself on the bed. I opened my eyes, annoyed, ready to have a moan, only to realise that Lee wasn’t in the room at all. I was confused. Sometimes when you’re half-asleep it feels like the bed moves, just as you start to drop off, but this was a lot more violent and a lot more real. As I was trying to figure out what had happened, the bed started shaking again. So did the pictures on the wall above the bed. In fact, so did the whole room. It took me an embarrassingly long time to work out that this was an earthquake (I blame having only just woken up).

I was quite frankly terrified. Loads of thoughts rushed through my mind. How bad was it? How long would it last? Was I safe? Where was Lee? Was he okay? What should I do? I tried to remember advice for what to do in case of an earthquake but realised I’d never had cause to read any before. In the end I decided (not entirely sure why) that the corner of the room was the safest place to be. So there I went and crouched down until the shaking stopped. And there I stayed for quite some time afterwards, just in case.

I was sitting back on the bed, probably still shaking myself, even if the room wasn’t, when Lee finally walked in. (I should probably add that this was before the days of mobile phones, so I’d had no idea whether he was okay.) I threw myself on him in tears. ‘Thank goodness you’re okay!’ I sobbed. He looked at me like I’d gone mad. ‘What do you mean?’ he said. ‘The earthquake!’ I managed. He still looked at me like I’d gone mad. Turns out he hadn’t felt a thing. While I was busy feeling the earth move up on the fourth floor, down on the ground everything was as good as still. It hadn’t been another earthquake – ‘just’ an aftershock. And not a very big one by the sounds of it, despite what it had felt like.

It was a hell of a story to tell when we got home – we’d survived an earthquake (even if Lee hadn’t actually felt it)! Since then we’ve had a couple of minor earthquakes here in Kent, so it no longer feels like quite such a big deal. (Although when I woke up to the bed shaking a year or so ago, I at least recognised it for what it was this time, despite the unexpectedness of it.) I still don’t know what you’re supposed to do in the case of a serious earthquake though – perhaps I should read up on it? After all, given our track record, there’s a reasonable chance of us experiencing another one on holiday one day!

Storm in a saucepan

In less than three weeks, we’re going camping in Wales. The current week’s forecast for the area where we’re staying is between 16 and 19 degrees, with more rainy days than dry ones – I haven’t dared to look further ahead, but I’m not feeling too optimistic! I try not to let the weather spoil a holiday but it has to be said that camping isn’t a whole lot of fun in cold and/or rainy weather.

We’ve definitely had our fair share of bad camping weather over the years. We’ve never been brave enough to camp any earlier than the end of May (or later than August) but even the summer months don’t guarantee good weather. In the past we’ve headed south in France, with the aim of getting some sun, but that still doesn’t always work – we’ve had torrential rain in Spain and the French Riviera! The worst weather we ever experienced was several years ago in Andorra. Yes, it’s in the mountains, so we were prepared for it to be a bit colder, but we weren’t prepared for a storm that saw us desperately trying to hold down the tent in case it blew away. We didn’t sleep much that night, and the following morning saw a campsite full of sleeping bags hung up to dry after tents flooded.

More recently, we camped for a few nights in Hastings at the end of May. It was the first time we’d camped in the UK for five years and only the second time we’d camped in May with the kids (the first time was so cold I worried about the boys getting hypothermia). The forecast got worse the closer we got to going away – the temperatures weren’t too bad, and the occasional rain cloud I could cope with, but the lightning bolt was starting to worry me.

The storm hit just before bed on our second night. We’d been playing cards outside the tent, listening to the distant thunder and hearing the wind pick up. By the time we were in bed, the wind was howling, the tent was shaking and I was worrying. You can tell yourself that it will be fine, but I remember the 1987 hurricane – if the chimney down the road couldn’t stand up to the wind, what hope did our tent have?! I told myself that the tent had survived the storm in Andorra and tried (unsuccessfully) to get to sleep.

The wind eventually died down, although the thunder and the rain picked up. I relaxed a little. I was slightly concerned about the rain but the tent had survived torrential rain before without leaking. The thunder and the lightning didn’t bother me, though – they may be loud and bright but they couldn’t hurt me. Right?

But as the storm got louder and we realised it was right overhead, I remembered that lightning absolutely can hurt you. And I was beginning to think that the thunder might also be able to. I have honestly never heard thunder so loud, and every lightning flash (they were constant) lit up the tent so brightly that it hurt, even with my eyes closed. I was actually genuinely terrified.

It was at around this point that the other enemy of camping started to kick in – the need for a nighttime wee. I don’t get it – it rarely happens at home so why does it always happen when I’m in a tent?! It could be the cold – nights get pretty chilly when you’re in a tent, and I’m sure that doesn’t help if you need a wee. It could be the jiggling on your bladder during the walk back from the bathroom before bed. More likely it’s just Sod’s law. It’s bloody inconvenient to go for a wee in the middle of the night when you’re camping, so it’s Sod’s law that you’re going to need one. Unfortunately, this wasn’t just inconvenient, it was downright impossible. Nothing was going to get me out in that weather – I’d end up wetter than Michael Gove and probably struck by lightning to boot! I resolved to lie there and hope it would go away. Fingers crossed I’d fall asleep soon and everything would be fine. Of course, I had no hope of falling asleep in a thunderstorm. The incessant thunder and lightning meant it was like trying to fall asleep in a nightclub (but with better music).

It all came to a head when there was a sudden piercing scream, followed by a sob, coming from Dylan’s bedroom compartment. Lee and I both sat up instantly. Was he just frightened by the storm or had the tent started leaking over his head? But as we waited for more noise from Dylan and heard nothing, we realised he was simply talking (well, shouting) in his sleep. But by this point there was no going back for me. There wasn’t a hope of me getting to sleep until I’d had a wee – and I REALLY needed it.

I prayed for the She-Wee, which I’d bought for just such an occasion, to magically float out of the car where I’d inconveniently left it and into my hands. I prayed for a bucket to magically appear in front of me. Needless to say, my prayers weren’t answered. Lee was laughing as I frantically searched through everything we’d brought with us, but I was nearly in tears by this point. Eventually, I came up with a saucepan – it was the biggest container I could find. Would I be able to aim straight? Would I be able to balance over it and not fall A-over-T or knock the damn thing over, like Mr Bean? Would it be big enough (I REALLY needed a wee)? And would we ever be willing it to use it again? I realised I didn’t much care – the price of a new saucepan was a price well worth paying by this point.

Just as I’d pulled down my PJs and was stood poised and ready, we heard from Dylan again. ‘I need a wee!’ Seriously? A little background information: Dylan has never been good at such things when camping – he worries about splashing himself, being seen, etc., so the logistics of a nighttime wee with a half-asleep Dylan were never going to be good. Add this to the fact that he would have had to stand at least slightly outside the tent – in the middle of the storm – to be able to aim and ensure the tent didn’t get flooded in a whole different way. The final straw was that I needed it so badly that I didn’t think my body would be able to cope with hearing him go – and there definitely wasn’t room in that saucepan for two.

I finally realised that we had no choice but to go out in the storm. I swapped my PJ trousers for shorts and put on my raincoat (which, unlike the She-Wee, thankfully wasn’t in the car). I made Dylan take off his onesie and put on his raincoat. ‘But everyone will see me in my pants!’ whined Dylan. ‘It will be embarrassing!’ Don’t think you really need to worry about that in the middle of a thunderstorm, Dylan. Everyone will be safely tucked up in their tent where I want to be, and not wandering the campsite at midnight in the rain… But actually, he was right. As we ran across the campsite in the pouring rain, trying not to listen to the thunder or think about how long (or short) there was between the lightning bolts and the thunderclaps, we were watched with some interest by a man who obviously thought it was a good idea to stand outside and watch the storm (or wait for mad women who needed the toilet in the middle of the night).

The good news is we both made it on time, which was a bloody miracle. The unsurprising news is we were both soaked by the time we got back to the tent (thank goodness the towels weren’t in the car). The slightly surprising news is that it was actually weirdly exhilarating running outside in a thunderstorm. The reassuring news is that the tent made it through the rest of the night without leaking, breaking or blowing away.

Lessons for next time: Storms normally sound worse from inside a tent than they actually are. Tents can stand up to quite a lot (but make sure those guy ropes are tightly pegged in). Never leave the She-Wee in the car. Always bring several large, lidded containers in case of nighttime emergencies. Given the forecast for Wales over the next few weeks, I suspect we’ll be putting these lessons into practice…!