Now that the annual family holiday is over my wife and I can relax again! Kids take it out of you by the yard and a holiday is needed to get over a holiday. The flights might have been comfortable even if delayed, no real turbulence either going or leaving, but we had our own 5 year old Stuka dive bomber ready to strafe his nine year old sister at every opportunity, and on the flimsiest of pretexts. By the close of fourteen days holiday fatigue had well and truly set in and we were ready for Ireland in spite of its rain. When we left our old friend the drizzle waved us goodbye and when we returned it bade us hello. Like the proverbial bad penny you can always be sure of it turning up.
As has become the family custom we spent our fortnight sun siesta in the Majorcan resort of Palma Nova. However, I think we have come to the end of our love affair with it. We know it too well and while having enjoyed every minute spent there we are of a view that we have squeezed as much out of the place as we are likely to. If we go back we are likely to face the law of diminishing returns. As the old adage goes a change is as good as a rest. The children too are a bit restless with it and in need of fresh adventures.
Normally we go to another hotel but changed this time. It was a choice we did not regret. Our fellow guests were for the most part English, thoroughly pleasant and far removed from the lager louts that so many holiday makers dread running into.
My wife put the holiday operation together and as ever was meticulous in her planning. As usual a book by Antony Beevor made up part of my reading ensemble. He is now mandatory for holidays abroad and The Battle For Spain was atmospherically ideal for our location. My aim was to complete four books and I managed to finish the last one waiting in the hotel lobby for the bus to take us to Palma Airport. Cutting it fine but still within the set period. It hardly matters. Also conquered were the 570 pages of the second in a trilogy by the brilliant Stieg Larsson. For those not yet initiated it is not too late. The best in crime fiction I have read for years.
Kid watching – not in the priestly sense – is a tiring activity. With two of them in the pool and often wanting to be in separate but adjoining pools a parent needs eyes like a hawk. My wife told me just before we went out that most kids who drown in pools do so within 25 metres of their parents. Learning that does not produce an effect equivalent to Valium on the nerves. Then separating their fights while the more reserved English clientele looked on was hardly conducive to rest and relaxation.
I don’t take kindly to the sun. It led me to endlessly quaff pints of San Miguel and I can hardly feign the chutzpah to complain. A warm climate induces discomfort in me more easily than a cold one. Last Christmas here with its persistent snow was less challenging than two weeks of Majorcan sunshine. Yet, the pool and the sea compensate enormously. Sailing around the coves of the Mediterranean and leaping from a catamaran into the warm water with my daughter has provided a memory to be cherished.
And that’s what it is all about – memories of great times shared with those we love most. Although I did not come to appreciate this until late in life it causes me few regrets. In earlier years circumstance beckoned and I followed. I remain avowedly philosophical about that. But sitting in the Majorcan sun with my wife and children I knew that nothing now comes before them, neither cause nor campaign.
Now, back to the grind.
As has become the family custom we spent our fortnight sun siesta in the Majorcan resort of Palma Nova. However, I think we have come to the end of our love affair with it. We know it too well and while having enjoyed every minute spent there we are of a view that we have squeezed as much out of the place as we are likely to. If we go back we are likely to face the law of diminishing returns. As the old adage goes a change is as good as a rest. The children too are a bit restless with it and in need of fresh adventures.
Normally we go to another hotel but changed this time. It was a choice we did not regret. Our fellow guests were for the most part English, thoroughly pleasant and far removed from the lager louts that so many holiday makers dread running into.
My wife put the holiday operation together and as ever was meticulous in her planning. As usual a book by Antony Beevor made up part of my reading ensemble. He is now mandatory for holidays abroad and The Battle For Spain was atmospherically ideal for our location. My aim was to complete four books and I managed to finish the last one waiting in the hotel lobby for the bus to take us to Palma Airport. Cutting it fine but still within the set period. It hardly matters. Also conquered were the 570 pages of the second in a trilogy by the brilliant Stieg Larsson. For those not yet initiated it is not too late. The best in crime fiction I have read for years.
Kid watching – not in the priestly sense – is a tiring activity. With two of them in the pool and often wanting to be in separate but adjoining pools a parent needs eyes like a hawk. My wife told me just before we went out that most kids who drown in pools do so within 25 metres of their parents. Learning that does not produce an effect equivalent to Valium on the nerves. Then separating their fights while the more reserved English clientele looked on was hardly conducive to rest and relaxation.
I don’t take kindly to the sun. It led me to endlessly quaff pints of San Miguel and I can hardly feign the chutzpah to complain. A warm climate induces discomfort in me more easily than a cold one. Last Christmas here with its persistent snow was less challenging than two weeks of Majorcan sunshine. Yet, the pool and the sea compensate enormously. Sailing around the coves of the Mediterranean and leaping from a catamaran into the warm water with my daughter has provided a memory to be cherished.
And that’s what it is all about – memories of great times shared with those we love most. Although I did not come to appreciate this until late in life it causes me few regrets. In earlier years circumstance beckoned and I followed. I remain avowedly philosophical about that. But sitting in the Majorcan sun with my wife and children I knew that nothing now comes before them, neither cause nor campaign.
Now, back to the grind.
Majorcan Sun
As has become the family custom we spent our fortnight sun siesta in the Majorcan resort of Palma Nova. However, I think we have come to the end of our love affair with it. We know it too well and while having enjoyed every minute spent there we are of a view that we have squeezed as much out of the place as we are likely to. If we go back we are likely to face the law of diminishing returns. As the old adage goes a change is as good as a rest. The children too are a bit restless with it and in need of fresh adventures.
Normally we go to another hotel but changed this time. It was a choice we did not regret. Our fellow guests were for the most part English, thoroughly pleasant and far removed from the lager louts that so many holiday makers dread running into.
My wife put the holiday operation together and as ever was meticulous in her planning. As usual a book by Antony Beevor made up part of my reading ensemble. He is now mandatory for holidays abroad and The Battle For Spain was atmospherically ideal for our location. My aim was to complete four books and I managed to finish the last one waiting in the hotel lobby for the bus to take us to Palma Airport. Cutting it fine but still within the set period. It hardly matters. Also conquered were the 570 pages of the second in a trilogy by the brilliant Stieg Larsson. For those not yet initiated it is not too late. The best in crime fiction I have read for years.
Kid watching – not in the priestly sense – is a tiring activity. With two of them in the pool and often wanting to be in separate but adjoining pools a parent needs eyes like a hawk. My wife told me just before we went out that most kids who drown in pools do so within 25 metres of their parents. Learning that does not produce an effect equivalent to Valium on the nerves. Then separating their fights while the more reserved English clientele looked on was hardly conducive to rest and relaxation.
I don’t take kindly to the sun. It led me to endlessly quaff pints of San Miguel and I can hardly feign the chutzpah to complain. A warm climate induces discomfort in me more easily than a cold one. Last Christmas here with its persistent snow was less challenging than two weeks of Majorcan sunshine. Yet, the pool and the sea compensate enormously. Sailing around the coves of the Mediterranean and leaping from a catamaran into the warm water with my daughter has provided a memory to be cherished.
And that’s what it is all about – memories of great times shared with those we love most. Although I did not come to appreciate this until late in life it causes me few regrets. In earlier years circumstance beckoned and I followed. I remain avowedly philosophical about that. But sitting in the Majorcan sun with my wife and children I knew that nothing now comes before them, neither cause nor campaign.
Now, back to the grind.
Yip and to top it of I ,m back as well,after having laid waste to a large part of Scotland,its amazing what a nut armed with a pair of Arbroath smokies can do!Really glad to hear you had a normal family holiday mo cara ,the wee ones may do your head in now ,but when they leave the nest,they leave a hole thats impossible to fill in so enjoy the ride mate,I bought a dog from a blacksmith,and when I got it home it made a bolt for the door,I see experts are worried about president Obamas mental state after he pledged millions of dollars of aid to Norn Iorn after the tragedy of Hurricane Higgins...and a question for Nuala whats the difference between "Iron Man" and "Iron Woman"?? Ironman is a superhero...Ironwoman is an instruction .....ducks.I hear Albert is addicted to brake fluid.....but he swears he can stop anytime.. aye Robert of the Nelson eye unionist friend I even missed you hope your well!!
ReplyDeleteMarty,
ReplyDeleteMarty,
Welcome home to the pre occupied six counties, I am very well thank you. Your homecoming brings to an end a tedious if eventful period of personal attack and foolhardy accusations in the company of your peers. With one post you have injected much needed humour, brought a smile to me chops and almost a tear to my remaining eye. Hope I don't end up like Peter and get something stuck in my iris
Well Robert if I may be so bold,you are more than able to defend your position and well capable of landing a few heavy blows yourself mate,yip I,d agree we are pre occupied here in the sick counties just a pity it wasnt with the search for the truth of the last 30 plus years.I see coco the clown got the sack yesterday..he,s doing them for funfair dismissal..a wee woman from the Falls saw the face of Jesus in a tub of margarine.her neighbour from Nepal said"I cant believe its not Buddah"
ReplyDeleteMackers and Marty welcome back!
ReplyDeleteLoved the photo of you and your two gorgeous kids, notice Marty never produces any pics from his travels. Wonder why?
Nuala mo cree,if there,s one thing in life that I have learnt,its that if at first you dont succeed ...then skydiving aint for you!!!!!!! although I started selling diy bomb making kits disguised as prayer mats.....prophets are going through the roof..as you know I grew up in a really rough area of Belfast,when I was a kid people used to cover me in chocolate and cream then put a cherry on my head.....yes life was tough in the gateau!!
ReplyDeleteMarty, not like you to be so evasive.
ReplyDeleteActually thought you had gone with Mackers, thought the whole Scottish thing was a spoof.
Albert said, he hopes none of the English tourists were silly enough to engage with Mr McIntyre in relation to 'Norn Ireland'
He said he could imagine some silly Brit saying, 'We'll have a bit of craic with this Irish guy,
and an hour later they are sitting there red faced and fuming'
Marty, Mackers will put the pics up for you if you are too shy to ask.
i can hear the outlaw willie nelson sing....... "Aint it funny how time slips away!"
ReplyDeletewe realise important things in life rather late we may look at our children and realise we are beings onto death, thus we start living authentically.
now as soon as the wee man is able to do so, fulfill his capacity with a little Plato. and hopefully he shall never have to visit such an intentional monstrotsity as the holiday resort ever again lol
glad ya had a nice time nevertheless.
Marty,
ReplyDeleteEnjoying them while they are around because when they go they go and if they want back after that they aren’t so lovable then!!
Nuala,
Thanks. There is a song out called Beautiful monster. I have two of them!!
Emmet,
Thanks. Think I have had my fill of resorts.
Anthony kids are boomerangs and parents are walking atm machines ,get used to it mate .
ReplyDelete