Sunshine

Posted by dulwichmum on Mon 7 April 2008

I must admit that I have been so very cautious about taking my tiny poppets on a holiday abroad. There are (after all) so many strange and hostile people to be encountered in foreign lands. I am tortured by fears for my young family.

It snowed just yesterday (it is April!!!), so I decided to reconsider as it would be super to cheer us all up with a lovely sunshiny family holiday. I quickly nipped online in search of a break in the Maldives or Barbados for our next half term holiday. James immediately became rather alarmed and began to rant on about the current difficulties in the money markets. He insisted;

“Don’t dare to book the Indian Ocean or the West Indies through Club Med or Mark Warner,” (I had no idea that times were so very hard). “Why don’t you try Thompson’s – You might find something reasonable in Greece.”

I pride myself on being open minded, but OHMYGOD, I shall find it difficult to articulate the horrors that I have experienced online this evening… The selection of holidays for sale through this high street holiday company simply took my breath away.

In their online brochure, Thompson offer “Premier” five star resorts that it claims are “stylish and luxurious,” but not so exclusive that they feel “unfriendly.”

“Mmm,” I thought, “this sounds promising“…

They claim that one resort has “an outrageously posh marina” that is filled with sleek “my wallet is bigger than your’s yachts” – I was speechless… Other features are described as “knock your socks off.” All male guests under 14 are apparently “requested” to wear long trousers for dinner (OHMYGOD, do they compel their guests to use a knife and fork too?). In the “classy” Sani Beach Club Hotel (is it named after a chemical toilet?) there is a full programme of nightly “entertainment on offer, including a dart board, bingo and karaoke.”

When describing the cuisine, they claim that one American buffet style restaurant (this is in Greece!!!) in the resort was mentioned in The Financial Times just four years ago, and “with reviews like these you know you’ve hit the jackpot”. They offer “unlimited locally produced alcoholic beverages – so fill your boots,” I almost expired. I wonder if this restaurant has a notice on the wall requesting that patrons refrain from sucking their teeth?

How frightfully coarse…

I don’t think that we can risk a holiday abroad this year, or at least until the stock market picks up or they invent some kind of common/low life filter for my computer. How can I ensure that we avoid encounters with larger louts and lottery winning toothless hags from Elsemere Port on our travels.

I really am an outragous snob you know… (sigh).

Shhh, I wonder if I could pick up a super offer with Mark Warner to The Ocean Club in Praia da Luz in Portugal. I have read that there is a nice tapas bar virtually in front of the apartments too! Anything would be better than Halkidiki with Thomas Cook, clearly…

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 Bob

Posted by dulwichmum on Wed 2 April 2008

We recently visited my husband’s vile work colleague Annabelle at her capacious home in Chiswick. Her son Hugo adores my poppets – well of course he does, they are angels and perfect role models…

Annabelle constantly berates us for living in south east London. She savours every available opportunity to make fun of us because we live “on the front line,” as she so kindly terms it.

“It is no wonder that you drive a tank. I believe that it is necessary for everyone in that part of London to tote some sort of military hardware…”

“An Audi Q7 is not in any way related to a British Army Challenger Tank darling,” I protest. (Grrr, that woman is lucky I don’t own a gun…)

Annabelle also enjoys sending us up for what she interprets as our hot-housing of the munchkins – insisting that we force them to study.

I have been begging my progeny to allow me to play pop music in the car of late… fearing that they will miss out on so very much with two mature parents, hoping that they would display evidence of their care free childhood and love of current chart hits when we next visit Annabelle’s abode.

“No, please NO,” object Freya and Max in unison, as I endeavour to sneakily introduce some Take That into their musical diet. “Let us listen to our Sing the times tables CD or our Muzzy French. Turn this frightful racket off,” they chime.

By all accounts, just this week Annabelle’s anaemic son Hugo has been watching music videos 0n Youtube with his Latvian au pair. Annabelle was incredibly smug. We are the angry mob by the Kaiser Chiefs is apparently his special favourite and he even sang for us (I swear that boy is tone deaf!).

“We are the hungry Bob
We read the papers everyday day
We like who like
We hate who we hate
And don’t get in our way.”

That child is bristling with aggression and every inch of his mother. Freya sat quietly, listening to Hugo’s recital, casually occupied with her Nintendo DS Brain Training exercises (I was very embarrassed) before pointing out that Hugo was singing the wrong words (OHMYGOD!). The boy was crushed, but I smiled like a Cheshire cat for the rest of the afternoon.

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