Yesterday it RAINED.

This is NOT what I ordered. I plan to write a stern letter to whoever is in charge of my karma and remind them of how important this break is for my brood to spend time together lolling about in the sun, smacking each other in the face a lot.

We arsed about for ages not knowing what to do. If we only had the six year old boy, we might hit the local caves or gawp at a castle. If we only had the seventeen year old girl, we might hit the shops or get our nails done – well, not Gwyneth, I mean he’s v metrosexual but…

Their age-gap is normally a rumbling background noise but now and then it screams at us, saying YOU MASSIVE ARSEHOLES YOU TOTALLY COCKED-UP THE FAMILY PLANNING DIDN’T YOU?

Without the sun and the pool and the beach, there seemed to be nothing we could happily do together. 

Except drive. So we did…

Along the coast, not knowing where we were heading. Silence in the back as eldest tunes out with music in her ears, youngest playing with an old Nintendo DS.

The fierce wind makes the sea gallop and roll. Gwyneth pulls over to get a picture. Youngest won’t get out: NO I AM NOT MOVING I HATE THAT BIG WHITE SEA. I tell him we can’t leave him in the car alone so will he please just get out RIGHT NOW OR SPEND THE REST OF THE DAY SHUT IN THE BOOT.

The wind is massive. It snatches the breath right out of your mouth. The sea has morphed from welcoming and dippable to furious and murderous. The boy is terrified and deep down, the girl is too, but she can bury it in scooping him up and shooing us all back into the car. 

Onwards. Now there is tickling in the back of the car and giggling and hiccups. We play spot the mountain; MOUNTAIN! No that’s a hill. MOUNTAIN! Yes we think so. We play word games like how many words are the same with different meanings? Nose and knows. Sea and see… our capabilities at these games are identical from 6yrs old to 53…

We climb up into the hills, through small villages of white houses where everything is shut for siesta. We pass churches and schools and drive the wrong way up a one-way-street. We make a twelve-point manoeuvre to get round the tightest of corners which makes youngest squeal and yelp that we might never make it out of there. Then we decide it’s time to head back down to our town. 

There, on the edge of town, the boy spots the sign for Supersol. Like a lighthouse guiding us safely home, we follow it. We need coke and dounuts. I want to find the fresh green olives Josè was scoffing the day before. Gwyneth needs more chorizo for soaking in red wine. Eldest needs chocolate croissants for breakfast and youngest searches for his new favourite drink: strawberry Sunny D.

Everything is allowed.

Back at the house, the wind has dropped, the rain stopped. We sit outside and the kids play Gin Rummy, with youngest winning most of the time because these are the days when he is young and his sister isn’t ready to teach him losing yet. Gwyneth and I keep pinching each other with our eyes…these two are these two and these two are our two…

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Today is back to the glorious sun I ordered, but that rainy day is the one I know I’ll remember…