So after the unpacking comes the packing. That is, everything that came out of the car, had to go somewhere inside our accommodation.
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My packing prowess in cramming a lifetime supply of EVERYTHING inside the car |
Vs.
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The grossly inadequate size of our accommodation in comparison to our family. Ok so pic *may not* be of our actual chalet |
Resulting in this
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Ok so a slight exaggeration...we didn't bring the Xmas Tree |
What went into our station wagon did not fit inside our chalet.
It was like the dodgy lower class cousins had launched on the neighbourhood - what with our multi-coloured wind shade (more on that bastard thing later...), twin pram we didn't even bloody use once, fishing rods (more on those bastard things later...), and a few nappy boxes all spread over our front verandah. I swear to vodka, I felt the entire park shudder as we drove in.
Imagine our neighbours' delight - while they are enjoying the sound of waves crashing on the beach, sun on their skin, gentle breeze cooling them as they sip their drink on their verandah's - and then our quasi clown-car stops at the chalet next door, well within earshot, and the doors fly open exposing the whining, crying and screaming - and only part of that was from the kids.
It was like a 2hr Olympic event as we hurdled the stairs, sprinted to the kitchen to remove the sharp knives, dove into the bedrooms to remove the Bible (lest one of our dodgy kids rip it up or draw over it and curse us for life...or, you know, however that works), and pole vault to the TV to grab the remote before the volume was maxed out and shattered the windows (the pole vault part was accidental, via the broom that I did not see propped against the lounge as I rounded the corner....but I nailed it, perfect dismount at the last minute, stopping mere inches in front of the TV screen).
Can I just say that - while our unit was right, smack on the beach - it had 2 bedrooms (neither large enough for 2 porta cots), one toilet, one shower, ONE TELEVISION, and - to add insult to injury - limited TV channels.
After the epic 2hr display of skill, agility and parenting on overdrive as we unpacked - we were not exactly blissed out, happy campers, admiring the beach right out our front door. Instead, #1 Hubby was grumbling about getting Wifi coverage to do his weekly report, I was responding in a sympathetic manner about where I'd be sticking his Wifi card (and how pleased I was that his Company had upgraded to a much larger card at that...), and the kids were ignoring the millionteen toys I'd bought (new ones to dazzle and stupify them, plus some trusted old favourites) in favour of slamming the kitchen cupboards - a foreign experience for them, as I have kiddy locks on all of my cupboards and drawers at home.
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Sincerely felt that, for all chalet's within a 100 metre radius of our own, we should've put these on the pillows in lieu of a little mini chocolate |
By the time we got a chance to sit down and take it all in - about 3hrs after our arrival - we had just missed the sunset. But who cares, it's wine o'clock and we're in desperate need.
It's almost tea time and the troops are getting so restless they're about to grab a Swiss Army Knife and go out hunting for their dinner. Or at the very least, begging at the chalet's around us. I'm praising my motherly self for preparing enough healthy food to see us through the trip without my having to put in any degree of effort beyond zapping some vege filled casserole in the microwave.
So we walk to get fish and chips instead. Because I couldn't be bothered searching through our lifetime supplies to find any of my carefully planned and prepared healthy meals.
Tomorrow, if you're still with me, I will regale you with Family Holiday : Part 3 - Fuck the beach
Sincere apologies to my mother (and anyone else offended and tsk tsk tsking me) for the swearing - but it was totally warranted, as you'll find out.
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