This is a very short entry because it is past my bedtime. I have not had enough in the way of decent bedtimes lately, and now that I am on holiday I have resolved not to short-change myself.
We are truly on holiday.
We are in the camper van. and we have come back to York.
The reason for this is that we contemplated Alton Towers this morning and discovered that for all four of us to go there, complete with fast pass tickets, it would cost us just short of four hundred pounds.
None of us liked that idea very much.
Hence we had something of a re-think, and instead of trailing miles and miles down the M6 to Birmingham, which has never been a Number One British Holiday Destination in any case, we have come back to York, and are just pulling into a friendly lay by as I write.
We did not get up early, and then the day became a prolonged muddle of unpacking school luggage and pegging washing in the garden, and trying to work out where everybody’s clothes were.
I got into such a tizz that when I went on the computer to book us tickets for the Jorvik museum I got completely confused, and booked them on the wrong day. This turned out all right, because Lucy telephoned them, explained that I was an idiot, and changed the booking.
The whole day seemed to run much along this vein, but somehow by teatime we were organised, or at least had reduced the muddle to a manageable state.
We packed everything into the camper can, waved goodbye to the dogs, and chugged away.
The dogs are staying with the Number Two Daughters, because even if the camper van is wonderfully cooled from open windows and roof lights, parked shadily under trees and stuffed to the seams with Good Dog Sausages and fresh water, somebody is bound to ring the RSPCA if we leave the dogs in it and go off to do something else. I don’t mind the dogs being taken into care, but I would be cross if somebody broke the camper van window to do it.
We went up to High Dam for a special holiday-launching swim, to celebrate being free.
There is no pleasure like swimming in a cool lake in the hot sunshine.
When we climbed out, carefully over the slippery rocks, we felt fresh and comfortable again.
We warmed up pork pies and spare ribs, and played quiz games whilst we ate.
Then we set off for the long journey over to Yorkshire.
Funnily enough it does not seem so bad to drive for three hours when you are not looking anxiously at the clock and worrying obsessively about being late and betraying the faith of your trusting children. We listened to the story on the CD player, and ate jelly babies. I am on holiday, so it does not matter if I get fat.
We are going to go to the Jorvik museum tomorrow.
It is quiet, and hot and still.
We are on holiday.
The picture is the Number Two Daughters, fixing their car. They had got to replace the accelerator pedal. Mark helped them a bit, and hung around to explain helpfully what they should be doing, but they did most of it themselves. They swore all the time, especially Number Two Daughter, just like Mark does. This must be an important part of fixing cars. It appears that accelerator pedals are very difficult to get to unless you are upside down. This makes swearing happen.
Lucy’s prizes were for Drama and Business Studies, for those who wished to know. We are going to go to York partly so that we can all visit Waterstones and the children can spend their prize money.
