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It’s Hard to Find Somewhere for an Adult Holiday that isn’t Full of Kids
As winter draws to a close and the first few beams of sunlight begin to peer their ever so cautious heads through the cracks once more, Britain is dreaming. The sun, the sea, the surf. The glory of the freedom and the absence of ikea desks and macs. Emails will go unanswered, spreadsheets left blank, caffeine deprived colleagues clawing at the walls, wondering why they can barely stay awake past lunch. In a sudden moment, all the hassle of working life will melt away as all the gentleman in the midlands pack their suitcases and while away the hours before their flight with the lovely escorts near Birmingham airport. Once the plane has finally taken off, a smile settles over their lips as their week of relaxation begins.
In theory at least. The problem is that hard working adults aren’t the only ones with summer holidays. Their fresh, innocent hope is always crushed after a few minutes on the plane, when the screaming starts, the chocolate melts over little hands and the whining begins. Children are one of life’s great pleasures. The sweet laughter of an infant is like peals of a sweet bell, calling all to marvel and worship at the altar of human wonder. Their miniature clothes the very model of cuteness, their tiny smiles serene and angelic. This is the impression that spending 30 minutes with nieces and nephews suggests. It takes just 5 on a plane, between June and September to shatter it forever. It will be replaced with a nightmarish vision of sticky jam covered fingers, high pitched squeals and pleading parents, their eyes crusted with sleep, as they try in vain to bargain with the irrational beast that will haunt them until their dying day.
After enjoying a fantastic flight, the poor worker can look forward to relaxing. Except children are like swarms of insects, infesting anything of interest until all that was once joyous is ridden with their little burrows. Like insects, their annoyance is minimal in small numbers, where they can be brushed from the psyche like so many little ants from a picnic basket. It is in numbers, when their terrible chittering reaches fever pitch, that things become unbearable. Even the locations that should be safe like museums and the theatre- places few whiny children would ever want to go- suffer, as parents try and educate their children by dragging them to places of cultural relevance. Inevitably this just causes resentment, and the child does tend to sulk a lot when dragged somewhere they don’t want to go.
God help the parents themselves. They know that they are serving an 18 year sentence. For 18 years, there will be no relaxing dip in the pool, no little dinner for two, nothing alone. That pre-holiday ritual with the Birmingham airport escorts? No longer allowed, he’s a father now. It doesn’t matter if he has split up with his wife or if she has wronged him, once he has children certain doors are closed to him forever. It’s why couples go away from short breaks to little cathedral towns and look forward to it as if they’ve been invited to the Oscars. When life is a perpetual cycle of stress, plain cobbled streets and shops that don’t sell bears, toys or tiny clothing, are the thing of dreams.
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