Families eh?
I must have been about 13 or 14 and we spent a week in a hotel on the Ring of Kerry. There was a 'civil war' in the hotel between management and staff the whole time we were there. We'd arrive down for breakfast to find the place deserted and no tables laid etc. On one occasion, my mother had to change the bed linen as the chambermaid couldn't be arsed.
On top of this, the weather was cold & wet everyday with grey cloud sitting on top of the mountains and constant drizzle.



Mind you, I never enjoyed family holidays. Every year we'd have the same old fight as I was dragged, kicking and screaming up and down the west coast of Ireland. Practically every holiday snap features me with a sulky face. My younger brother and I loathed one another as kids and he (ab)used his position as Mum & Dad's favourite to always get the upper hand. Some of our 'highlights' were:

Getting lost up a mountain in Mayo when the cloud descended and we lost our way. We took an 'eeny-meeny-miney-mo' guess at a fork in the path and got it right so returned to our car safe and sound.

My brother and I were nearly swept out to sea by a vicious riptide despite the beach being signposted 'Safe for Swimming'. Safe for who? The fecking Man From Atlantis?

Mayo again. Driving for miles and miles one Sunday where nothing was open and nigh-on starving to death before reaching a large town and gorging ourselves in a greasy chipper.




Now I'm 40-odd and not much has changed as I hate travelling and, apart from a few city breaks, have hardly been anywhere.
(Fanta Menace Is tall enough to see over the fence, Fri 3 Aug 2007, 11:28, Reply)