When
I was single I went home to Wales for almost every holiday. In
fact I would book my holiday dates so that I could be at home from at least
Christmas Eve until after New Year, and the weeks before and after Easter. The rest of my holiday allowance I was happy
to fit around co-workers needs.
When
the boys were school aged we hired a cottage near Mum and Dad every Easter,
February and October half term, so they could at least have some memories of
their grandparents. Summer
was when Fester did his fieldwork so we were often away for a couple of days in
Yorkshire, Scotland or wherever. Even
after Dad died we would spend at least one week a year in Wales, to get together with OldestBestFriend if nothing else.
Before the recent unpleasantness we would spend part of the Christmas
holidays down in London, near to Bigsister and my dear friend Paula.
I
would love to go back to Wales but cottages have become too luxurious and expensive. All we need is 3 bedrooms, a functional kitchen,
one tv and wifi. Large bath sheets and
towels are appreciated. Hot-tubs,
log-burning stoves, remote controlled what-evers, luxury anything are wasted on
us. There
is a cottage in Llandovery which is perfect for us but it is currently being
used under the homes for Ukrainians scheme.
Nothing wrong with that, in fact it’s entirely laudable. We
couldn’t do bed and breakfast for a whole week and we couldn’t really kick off
our shoes and relax in a hotel for that long either; even if we could find a
reasonably priced one.
The
past couple of years have been really hard for Ferretfingers, what with the
unpleasantness lockdowns, even though we have managed a couple of weeks away.
Most
evenings he will overcome his reluctance to vocalise to quiz me about going away
again. Part of my problem is I won’t fob
him off with promises I don’t know I can keep. It gets a little wearing after a while.
The
other night we had this…
“Bournemouth
next Summer?”
"I
don’t know."
“Scotland
next Summer?”
“I
don’t know.”
“London
in January?”
“I
don’t know.”
“Wales
next February?”
“I
don’t know.”
At
this point Thunderthighs came into the conversation with a hopeful
“Are
we going down to Wales in February?”
“Not
as far as I know.”
“Because
I would love to go to Wales in January or February?”
“Why?”
“Because
I’d like to see what it’s like in the Winter.”
“Oh
for goodness sake boy! I was brought up
in Wales. I've spent nineteen
winters of my life there. It’s exactly the
same as here, only slightly lighter because it’s further South, and a lot
wetter!”.
No comments:
Post a Comment