5756/18776
Up at 3.30am to make our way to Heathrow and fly off for our first proper two-kid Herring family holiday. I was anticipating a nightmare - Phoebe always flew well, but Ernie won't even sit on your knee on the sofa for more than 30 seconds without trying to backwards headbutt you or throw himself on to the floor.
As it turned out things went pretty well. Phoebe was excited about going on holiday and with the novelty of being up before the sun. She Ernie was confused, but managed to get back to sleep. We'd elected to drive and pay the exorbitant parking fee in the Terminal 5 short stay car park, but that was a good decision, I think. Costing about the same or less than two cabs and meaning we had child seats and a very easy unload and lift ride into the terminal and hopefully an easy ride home.
And things progressed smoothly. There was a bit of wait at family check-in, but we were straight through security and then had breakfast in the lounge. Our flight was delayed a bit and no gate was showing, so I went to change Ernie's nappy and go to the loo. There was no loo in the nappy changing area, which was annoying so there was a bit of back nap forth. When I got back the gate hadn't only been announced, but the TV said that boarding was about to close, so we had to dash through the airport and when we got to the desk they asked, “Are you the Herrings?†So we were last and had kept everyone waiting.
And it turned out that the plane was not too busy. It was chartered by the hotel and we'd taken advantage of not having school age kids (for the last time) and saved some money by going in the first week of September.
Ernie was good on the flight and fell asleep. Due to me rushing to put on his nappy he ended up weeing on Catie, which made her flight more pleasant and led to her having to go and change his clothes when we got to our destination (as he slept through the incident and we weren't going to risk waking him). And quick baggage retrieval and a long toilet queue meant that once again everyone on our transfer bus was left waiting for us. We're going to be those guys.
But we were at the hotel in time for lunch. Which seemed impossible given how long we had been awake. Even though I am #hardbrexit we found ourselves somewhere in Europe, but it doesn't really matter where, as we pretty much intend to stay by the pool in our hotel and take advantage of our foolishly purchased all-inclusive payment. We were dumb to do this as it means that I will spend the rest of the week attempting to make sure I ingest enough ice cream and drinks to pay off this £300 investment, but also, of course, all-inclusive rarely is and you're restricted to certain drinks. So you're drinking as many cheap drinks as humanly possible and would almost have certainly better off turning up with £300 and buying the stuff you actually wanted.
But fuck it. These idiots don't know how much Diet Coke I can drink and ice cream I can eat and the beauty is they cancel each other out. I will break them. I will break them.
We managed an afternoon in the sun/rain through a fug of exhaustion and cheap beer. The hotel is a bit rough around the edges, but has an enthusiastic young staff and is suitable to our needs. And there's some great facilities for kids.
At dinner I asked Phoebe if she was enjoying the holiday. “Is this the holiday?†She asked incredulously. I don't know what she'd been expecting. But whatever it was, it wasn't this.
This was a long day, but somehow we survived it. And that is the best that anyone can hope for on a family holiday.
