Pizza for the kids, Aperol for the mammies … but maybe our own beaches are still tops for chilling!

A continental family holiday for our columnist brought some much-needed relaxation but is it actually possible that there could be such a thing as too much fun in the sun?

• RIGHT, so we’re back from our holliers, hollybops, jollies, whatever you want to call it, and in no particular order here are some of the random thoughts that occurred to me when I stepped off the hamster wheel of life for a few days ....

• Let’s start with airports. Is it just me, or do the majority of people look so wildly stressed, hassled, discombobulated even, at airports, that you’d wonder why they put themselves through it at all? Air travel seems to take so much out of them that you’d imagine they’d be happier with a long weekend in Killarney.

That’s my opinion anyway. And then there’s the cohort that seem to think that pushing to the front of the queues getting on and off the plane, the shuttle bus, etc will somehow get them to their destination ahead of the rest of us. They need to seriously cool the jets, like!

• Personally, I’m happy if I arrive alive, and my luggage gets there too. If I can remember where I’ve parked when I land back in Cork, then the entire trip has been a resounding success. I think people need to realise that air travel is a tedious process. My advice is to treat yourself to a Toblerone in Duty Free, sit back and let everything happen at its own (very slow) pace. You’ll be the better of it.

• Next, and this one is groundbreaking: I discovered that nothing awful happens to you if you eat a margherita pizza and chips for six nights on the trot. I have scientific proof of this as that’s exactly what my eight-year-old ate on holidays. I reinvent myself as ‘fun holiday mom’ when we’re away so I didn’t object to her choice of evening meal (by night five, it was hard, I’ll admit), and to be fair, my own dietary choices were questionable at times as well (Aperols and ice cream all the way). Besides, she tucked into the fruit and veg with gusto on her return, so there you go: there’s no need to sweat the small stuff like this on holidays.

A glass of Aperol and some sunshine, combined with some relaxing cycles, helped make for an enjoyable holiday. (Photo: Shutterstock)

• This is especially true if, like me, you’re already sweating buckets. I can now definitively say that I don’t do very well in temperatures over 35 degrees, which is what our weather was like. I don’t look very well either – and I’ve the photographs to prove it!

Forget ‘holiday chic,’ it was all about survival mode for me. Unless I was in a pool or the ocean I was huffing and puffing like a middle-aged cliché. I even bought a little battery-operated hand-held fan. I know, I was embarrassed for me, too. I never thought I’d say it, but there were moments when I longed for the bracing temperatures of West Cork beaches. Lads, the heat!

• This one may be a little controversial but there were moments when I felt it might be possible to spend too much quality time with your family. Specifically in that 35-degree heat I already mentioned. I made a supremely bad decision one day when I felt we needed a little break from the pool so I booked us on a boat trip to some local islands.

In theory, it should have been a lovely experience. In reality, and because on the particular stretch of coast we were on, there wasn’t so much as a puff of wind, it was more like survival of the fittest.

At one point, and with half a bottle of water left between us, I wasn’t sure we were all going to make it back to shore alive. I had to promise my smallie that I’d buy her an overpriced teddy she had seen in a shop earlier if she kept it together (to be fair, she coped better than me). In my delirium, I was tempted to throw myself overboard it was so hot, and I’d say my husband felt like doing the same (just to me!). So, my advice is that, when it’s very hot, swerve the day trips and just stay poolside.

• We all rediscovered a love of cycling on the trip, though. I don’t mean lycra-clad, risking-your-life-on-busy-Irish-roads type cycling, but more like gentle pedalling on dedicated cycle paths. Such joy! We rented bikes and whizzing around the place feeling a bit like Jessica Fletcher was one of my holiday highlights. It’s such a pity that I feel too terrorised to take to our highways and byways back home. Ah well.

• I realised there’s no rhyme or reason to whom the mozzies target. I’ve always been a firm favourite of the buggers, and usually get eaten alive, while they give a wide berth to my husband. This time around he got mildly savaged and I got away unscathed. Maybe they’re not a fan of Aperols?

• I also realised how lovely it is not to have any ‘jobs’ to do for a little while, and I was very, very grateful for it. When the only thing you need to attend to all day is apply sun cream, you can’t help but feel very lucky. Because of the way I’m hardwired, I did sneak in one clothes wash – I couldn’t help it – and sure the drying was only mighty, so it would have been a shame not to!

• And of course what going away reinforces is ... there’s no place like home. And after a week in a mobile home your house feels like a mansion and your bed, absolutely heavenly. It was just a little ironic that a pizza oven I had ordered for my husband’s birthday, and which was hugely delayed, was finally delivered while we were away. It’s still in the box as none of us can stomach tucking into one just yet. Funny all the same, dough!