This week your columnist is settling back to normality after making a trip to the midlands to sample the joys of a rural holiday village
• IS it just me or do we all need to cool the jets a bit this week? Halloween is just behind us (and everyone in my household is conveniently ignoring the rotting pumpkin just like they do the soaking saucepans) and it feels like we’re being catapulted full force into Christmas without ever having a chance to catch our breath.
I don’t remember signing up for this at all and suggest we all stall the ball for another bit, please. By all means, start soaking the fruit for the puddings (that’s if all that shouldn’t already be in hand ... eh, should it?), but I implore you all to put everything else festive on pause until The Toy Show on December 6th and let that herald the start of the festive season. End of lecture!
• Anyway, along with what seemed like half of the country we spent the midterm in the midlands, in a holiday village. In terms of family getaways, it’s a tried and tested model that works: you give them all your money and they provide you with lots of fun.
It’s actually quite a painless procedure as it’s a cashless village and once you get into the habit of here a tap, there a tap, everywhere a tap tap, it’s grand.
It’s like money doesn’t even exist! Now, my personal favourite thing about this set-up is that it’s a car-free destination which means you can whizz around on your bike with wild abandon.
Freewheeling through the forest inhaling the heady scent of pine (with a faint whiff of chlorine), I have to admit I felt something close to exhilaration, until, that is, I’d get the fright of my life when the odd fox, squirrel, or runaway toddler would dart cross my path ... but it was all good (once your heart rate returned to normal).
• I was feeling an awful lot less free and easy though when we tried out an ‘aerial adventure’ course midweek. I had somehow messed up our booking and while I had intended to book the course aimed at adults and older children, I mistakenly chose the one that was a little less challenging.
Honestly, it was the best mistake I ever made. I struggled even at this level and the poor instructor, I think his name was Colin, although it’s all a bit of a traumatic haze, had his work cut out coaxing me along the various zip lines and wobbly platforms.
At one stage I thought he was going to have to come up and get me but I mustered some courage from some place (probably because there was a bit of a crowd gathering) and I got there in the end – just without any dignity. Who needs it!
• I was far braver when it came to the wild water rapids – a popular attraction in the pool complex.
As the name suggests it’s basically a man-made rapid that takes you through various twists and turns before depositing you in a pool where you can do it all again. I found that depending on what way the current would take me, I’d either take off like a shot and sashay to the end like some sort of a Disney mermaid, or I’d get horribly stuck. There was nothing in between and if I had to say what happened to me most, I’d say
the latter.
So, quite frequently I found myself literally lying on top of another unknown man/woman/child, unable to move, apologising profusely and saying: ‘I’m so sorry but I appear to be stuck to you! Can you give me a bit of a shove please?’ It was great gas and all very levelling – once that current took you, you were in the hands of the gods.
And for anyone curious, I’m living proof that swallowing gallons of chlorine won’t kill you, but it will make your skin and hair look spectacularly dire.
• We went with our Skibbereen cousins and younger members of the clan were generally living their best lives (what’s not to love about starting the day in a hot tub?) while the mammies among us kept busy getting the towels and togs dry for the multiple trips a day to the pool (I can personally vouch that there’s few things in life as unpleasant as having to put on a wet pair of togs). And sure, we might have been on holidays but the daily question remained: what were we going to do for dinner? It’s an affliction.
