Family HolidaysBack in the 80s when my Dad got made redundant (hello Dad!), he spent all the redundancy money on one of those big motor caravans.
Us kids loved it, apart from when my sister threw up on my sleeping bag, but looking back I'm not so sure my mum did. There was a certain tension every time the big van was even mentioned, let alone driven around France for weeks on end with her still having to cook and do all the washing.
What went wrong, what went right, and how did you survive the shame of having your family with you as a teenager?
(
chthonic, Thu 2 Aug 2007, 14:33)
« Go Back
ParisFrance.
This is one of many stories that I have about France which I may, or may not share.
This one, however, is one of the shorter ones.
Before my Dad passed on, we went to Paris to stay with (evil) Gran and Dad's Brother - these holidays usually pass off uneventfully and, barring the usual yelling and fighting of my sister and I, it's usually good tempered. Ha ha ha.
Anyhoo - this one summer we got to Grans, we're all tired and cranky as we'd driven. Great.
I feel a little icky (I was only about 13 or something) and not quite right and uncomfortable.
My Uncle, Aunt and cousins from London arrive - these are my fave relatives and loved them lots (less so these days).
They say "JTW - you look icky" - Thanks, I reply.
I itch. A lot. Dad looks at me - you're ill (Newsflash!) he says.
ChickenPox they all notice. Joy.
2 weeks cooped up in an 18th floor flat missing out on outing due to face mange.
It clears up just as we leave. Typical.
Not a joyous time.
**Have I missed the point with my stories at all???**
(, Fri 3 Aug 2007, 10:34, Reply)
« Go Back