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)
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Teenage years?Well I was only 8 at the time, but I was the likeliest person to get us home. Me & dada, being big boro (middlesbrough) fans, had gone to Rome to follow the boro into europe against roma. However, my dad picked the furthest hotel away on the outskirts of rome you could have possibly been. I mean, any further and you would have been out of Rome.
So we had to commute about 10 miles to get into the centre of Rome. Now, on the night before the match, my dad got drunk to the point of insanity. I tried to stop him, he said he wanted to have a "good time" without me interfering. So eventually, about 11 o'clock, we stepped out of the shitty english pub and suddenly it dawned on me: I am the responsible one here.
I knew there was a metro station at the end of the street. It was closed. I slowly started to cry. We were stranded in the centre of Rome. I thought the mafia would come and save us. But it didnt happen. My dad, regaining his vital senses, got us on the most random bus EVER. I mean, for all he knew, it could have took us to Venice or something.
Luckily for us, it took us to the main train station, and my dad somehow found the cheapest taxi guy that ever lived and who was prepared to do a 20 mile round trip for just 15 euros. It was just that moment of panic that I will never forget.
Apologies for length.
(, Fri 3 Aug 2007, 12:50, Reply)
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