Summer was fun, but the fairies let us down…

So that’s it then. The school holidays are over. The Four Little Seymours have all returned to their classrooms today, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, and Mummy is finally able to sit and contemplate things in detail, without somebody attempting to maim a sibling with a sharp piece of metal, and in the absence of the threat of imminent teenage fury about something and nothing.

The thing that I am mostly contemplating right now is how lucky we are to have survived the summer. In addition to the fact that we live on a building site, and that is plenty dangerous enough, we also took the Four Little Seymours on a camping holiday. Risky.

On our holidays, we like to go back to nature a little bit, to breathe the fresh sea air, eat locally caught fish, and walk barefoot on the sand. This is all very lovely. Now add to that an army of very outdoorsy friends, a few hand-me-down wetsuits and some reasonable weather and all of a sudden, you have got yourself an adventure holiday on the cheap.

Take Boy Seymour, for example. He has iffy legs. What is wrong with them, we do not yet know. Walking isn’t easy, and running, he avoids. But stick him in a kayak, and
the child is a prodigy! He who hates the cold water is all of a sudden out there, on THE SEA, pootling across the bay, as content as a sand boy.

Little Seymour Number Two is, I have discovered, way too cool for school. Watching her on her boogie board, braid in messy hair, “Rip Curl” emblazoned on neoprene across her back, she is the ultimate surf chick. Unafraid, she’s happy to stay out in the sea for hours, surfing or simply being thrown around by her teenage friends like a cannon ball, into the water.

Number One turned into a mermaid. I couldn’t get her out of the sea with her mates, all of them frolicking about in the waves, trying out the “stand up and paddle” board, and playing with their Go Pro. The merry little band of youths that not so long ago were pottering about with buckets and spades are now growing up, and entertaining themselves! Bliss.

As for Mini Seymour, what did she turn into whilst we were away? A five year-old.
With cake on the beach and sand in her hair, she smiled her way through her birthday. She was overjoyed to receive many new garments which were paraded in a fashion show at  camp, that Mummy failed to photograph because she hadn’t put the memory card in her camera. I swear the renovations have taken their toll on my mental health.

Yes, it was good to be away from The Funny Little Bungalow for a while. We swapped roofing and destruction with coasteering, rock diving, snorkelling, fishing, rowing, crabbing and surfing. We had close encounters with an enormous seal,  took ponies for walks in the waves and caught and ate fresh seafood daily. Yes, we ate like kings, but lived like paupers, in our old caravan with the scuffed-up sides. But what did that matter? When you live on a building site, you’re well-prepared to rough it.

Admittedly, living in a caravan is not the easiest thing to do. It’s fun, I suppose, if you want to play house. But I just find that I get very disorganised, very quickly. All too soon, the fridge starts to smell weird, the hot water plays up, and large insects and gargantuan molluscs turn up in your shoes. I suppose this isn’t really camping in the true sense of the word – hardcore campers use tents. But it’s good enough for us – a change from the norm’, and a perfectly acceptable base from which to indulge in dangerous watersports and other high-adrenaline delights. Like wine.

And the norm’ that I mentioned? Well, that would be The Shed. By spending time in a caravan, we at least are able to appreciate The Shed a little more – it is slightly comfier, and there is a greater storage capacity – just. It was quite tidy when we returned – and didn’t look too bad at all. But before long, as the unpacking ensued, mountains of laundry piled up, and I was reminded that the storage capacity is still not enough! Arghh! Oh, for a wardrobe!
But I digress. As usual. The Four Little Seymours are now back at school, learning things. The old adage ” they were ready to go back” is very true – structure is great. Lord knows what they will have forgotten over the summer break – poor Mini Seymour is now writing, but always backwards! How on earth will her teacher unpick that? Yet I can’t help but feel that what my four little Seymours have learned over the holiday is of equal importance. They socialised. They exercised. They played!

When we returned home, the scale of the task that still lies ahead did not escape us. The fairies didn’t finish the renovation whilst we were away, unfortunately. We didn’t win with Premium Bonds, either, so we’ll have to go back to hard graft and winging it. But, with any luck, if we go away again next summer, maybe we’ll be able to come home to a house, rather than a shed.

Maybe.