Fresh...

...as a daisy. Is how you're supposed to feel after a couple of weeks hanging out beach side, right? Then why, upon pulling wearily and sun burnt into our driveway, did it take a good three days to recoup?
Something to do with wine served in a plastic cup, in a fold up chair, at five in the afternoon, most days perhaps. Or was it the sheer effort required of my poor body to metabolize copious amounts of icecream, jam donuts and fish and chips? Then there was our highly engineered, kid exhausting activity schedule which seemed rather effective at achieving a similar result in their Dad and I.
For a while now I've been working on accepting that the idyllic, happy family holiday retains nothing of the benefits of the pre-children variety. Friends recount similar tales of returning home suntanned, pudgy and exhausted. Together we fantasize about immediately scheduling a second holiday for the kids. With their grandparents. While we disappear with a teetering pile of trashy reading, to some tropical hideaway where the bar can be found serving pink and blue cocktails in the middle of the pool. Now THAT sounds idyllic.
Truth is, since they came to us kicking, screaming and intent on depriving us of sleep, we've all become a tad attached. So, even on those rare occasions when we escape our brood and attempt to relish in a quasi, pre-children adventure we invariably end up missing their little faces while talking endlessly of poo and recounting hilarious toddler anecdotes. Not idyllic.
Now, four and a half years on, I reckon I've cracked the code. With little kids, the answer to the holiday question is not relaxation and refreshment. Nope, no hope of that. Instead, I think, the answer is a fresh outlook and quality time with your important peeps.
Once we trundle through the gates of our chosen caravan park, align our van and hitch that big canvas extension onto the side, the day in, day out stuff is gone. I don't have to look at the oodles of jobs needing attention. I can read stories and play with the kids uninterrupted. There is no letterbox, so the bills can't find us. I can create without creating specifically for buntyandsars. Which benefits buntyandsars later on because my head is fresh, my ideas are fresh and my perspective is shiny and new. Even the sheer pleasure of wandering around different streets and shopping in different shops is nice. It's all about breaking the rules and disrupting the routines. We can eat what we like, when we like. We have time. Time to watch the kids. Really watch them. Time to stare at the waves crashing endlessly. Time to sit and stare.
Then when we get back, home seems better than before. The problems and responsibilities are less significant. We can see all the stuff we like, not the things we need to fix. The kids get along better with us and with each other. And I can't wait to get stuck into some serious creating. That is, after a few good nights sleep.




I did get stuck into some "park art" while the children were sleeping. I deliberately took only a limited range of materials. A few pieces of precut paper, my water colours, paint brushes, a pencil and a sharpener. I'm endlessly fascinated by the way people set up their holiday environments and all the paraphernalia accumulated over many years of practice. Some people bring washing machines, wardrobes and full sized fridges. They rig up elaborate clothes lines, wind breaks and gazebos. I'm currently very taken with the permanent vans. I fear they are a dying breed as park owners work to refresh their environments and move anything on the smacks of retro. But they are wonderful. Pot plants, hanging baskets and bench seats. Lounge suites and budgies in cages. I've actually come to quite fancy the idea of spending my retirement sitting in my rocker on the deck of my onsite van, knitting idly in the sunshine. What more could one need?
So, with my stealthily captured caravan photographs I intend to embark on a series of drawings to be made into buntyandsars loveliness of some kind. Let me know how you'd like to see my caravan love materialise. After all, it is all about you, lovely passengers on my buntyandsars bus!