As I write this, I am ‘suffering’ the frustrations of a family holiday.
Despite the benefits of free bed and board in one of the country’s most desirable holiday destinations, Porthleven in Cornwall, the benefits of solo travelling versus such a group vacation are stark.
Last year, I was allowed a marital pass to take a trip to Bulgaria for a week.
I turned down the offer of company from a couple of friends as I simply, as us chaps are wanton to do from time to time, needed a bit of head space.
Now, one would imagine you’d be bored within a few hours, but the truth is, I absolutely loved it.
No one to please, do as you want and keep your own schedule.
I found myself getting up for the less-than-impressive continental breakfast every day, and it forced me to speak to people to have any meaningful human contact that day.
Having been up since 7am and with a 10-mile mountain bike ride and a couple of overpriced semi-skinny lattes down the harbour under my belt, I now find the main nub of the day will be wasted waiting.
The girls will get up, slowly, and, if I dare to joke about them being ‘sleepyheads’ it will be my fault as I didn’t act as their personal alarm clocks.
They will then spend a good couple of hours coming to, checking their phones, showering and doing their hair before we get out in the car for 2.30pm, if we're lucky.
My wife has already suggested that we go to some sculpture event in a farmer’s field up near the Helford.
It consists of metallic cows and sheep in pasture and was a labour of love for some long-departed son of the land with a name like Jethro or Jaygo or Jenga.
Word is it is near the less than impressive ‘camel world’ which is always shut despite the camels, permanently in a state of moult, running around a banked hill as I trot out my ‘it looks like they have the hump’ comedy repertoire.
Many years ago, I travelled to Greece before my wife who was due to come out at a later date, and got into rather a large spot of bother in the backstreets of Athens, but that mein fruends, is a column for another day...
I go and grab my jacket in preparation for standing for an hour in a field looking at a cast iron Friesian cow and console myself that really this is alreet boy, it's alreet.
- Brett Ellis is a teacher.
