We recently returned from our annual holiday. We go to the same place every year. We see the same people. We do the same things.
This may sound dull.
It is not dull.
It is many things. But it is not dull.
In 2020, it was even less dull than usual. This year marked the fiftieth time that our group of founding members have visited our favourite beach. It is the spot in which, every year since 1971, an ever-growing group of us has holidayed together, come rain, shine, sleet and wind. Through illness and injury, through crisis and joy. It’s a beautiful spot – complete with no wi-fi, no shower block, no flushing toilets and a new one for this year – no socialising! Yes, you’ve guessed it. It’s not a luxury break!
The lack of wi-fi, though, is a boon: it is so good for the soul, the self-esteem, the eyes and the brain. As for the Four Little Seymours – not once did I have to worry that one of them had snuck off to a corner with a device. At no time did anyone hear me yell “GET OFF THE SODDING IPAD!” or “WHO’S GOT MY TWUNTING PHONE?” because on our holiday, such things are simply useless chunks of tech. This makes me happy.
The Four Little Seymours are always too busy for devices on holiday, anyway. They are busy surfing or swimming, rock jumping, shell hunting, coasteering or digging on the beach. They catch fish, play with toys, and make art with their friends (the ones we were allowed to mix with, that is). They have a wholesome, sometimes scary-for-Mummy, jolly old time.
This year, our fiftieth visit, we had high hopes of a mega celebration. Then – BOOM! SODDING COVID threatened to scupper us. Lockdown happened.The world shut down.
Against all the odds, however, we got there! And despite the restrictions in place, we were grateful. We hoped to be able to celebrate with a party on the beach. Fancy dress was muted. Games were suggested… but plans fizzled out.
In the end, a whole host of other, less genteel events marked a half-century at our favourite spot. The list is as follows:
The heat – for the first few days of our break, it was boiling! This in itself is no bad thing, but with the heat came JELLYFISH! Jellyfish are pretty, granted. But they can also sting. So the clear blue/green idyllic waters became something of a minefield on those regular, cooling dips in the sea.
The Covid – the bloody SODDING COVID meant that we couldn’t share our campsite with our friends. They were not allowed to take refuge in our caravan when they needed a wee, nor when the heavens opened on the second week. We drank tea on the beach, though, but that was a kerfuffle. One would make it all the way down the pebbles and onto the sand only to realise that the milk was still up at camp, or there were not enough mugs. Or that everyone had got bored of waiting and left.
The vermin – apparently this is old news, but this year, I realised that as we sleep in our caravans, rats visit us in our awnings. They like cheese and onion crisps, and help themselves. Rats are then joined by toads, as Little Seymour Number One discovered to her horror one night, when she found a toad atop her favourite fleecy grey blanket. The toad was duly evicted, but Number One was not impressed, and spent the night on edge.
Injuries – there were three visits to the A&E department this year. We had broken wrists, cracked ribs and a mouth injury. In addition, there were sprained thumbs and even a sickness bug doing the rounds, which was not ideal, with no flushing toilet in sight.
The wind – this was significant. After the lull of the first week’s heatwave, came the rain. But then came the wind in the form of Storm Ellen. It was vicious, and it took out three of our tents, bringing an end to the holiday for some.
The seaweed – oh my goodness, I have never seen so much! It arrived on the beach in massive floating bergs, and the next morning, the sand was, in places, five foot deep in kelp. This was a novelty – even good fun, until the next day when it started to rot and smell, and reveal the prisoners it had taken on its journey; dead squirrels and headless eels were all hidden within the mounds of weed, and presented themselves gradually as the days went on.
Life jacket arguments – Boy Seymour can swim. Boy Seymour is getting to be a strong swimmer, but he does not appreciate the power of the sea! I would frequently find him scuttling back off the shore to deposit his life jacket that he decided he no longer needed, because he thinks he can take on the tides. An argument in front of beachgoers would ensue. I would win – eventually. But oh, what a waste of everyone’s time!
There was, of course, a lot of fun, too! Simply being away was so lovely after months of festering at home. And we did manage to snatch various slices of cake and many cuppas on the beach – even if it wasn’t in the form of a more formal 50th year party.
Above all, we got our annual seaside fix, in spite of SODDING COVID, and we are very grateful for that. We may have had to endure testing times, but at least we didn’t have to isolate on our return. Silver linings!
A hot bath of sorts!
our spiritual compass
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