The Holiday – Part 8

Are we nearly there?…when are we going to get there Mum?…How much longer?…Are we there yet Mum?…

I remember a time when I thought this was the child/parent equivalent of water torture –

The endless repetition of how long now, accompanied by pitiful snivelling I’m bored…this is bo00-oo-rring…

By the nipping, pushing, pulling and general torment of a sibling. Jamie hit me…Ana made a face at me…he’s looking at me now…she’s looking at me now…

Followed by noxious odours and sudden wind-tunnel window-openings. Jamie’s farted… Ana smells…

I developed immunity sometime between Evan and Jamie. All it takes is the occasional screaming injunction will you two be quiet! I am warning you! And the ability to simply retreat into a virtual reality where noisy obnoxious bored children do not exist…

Meg of coursenewly returned to the family fold after a 2 year absence – has the tolerance threshold of a demented Victorian nanny. Each are we there yet is an ever-increasing and deliberate insult to her powers of subjugation. As she increases the decibel level of her attempts at sedition-suppression they discover the unfathomed joys of big sister baiting.

In the end I scream at her. You are worse than them! For gods sake! What bloody age are you?

She then goes into a major huff with me. I knew I shouldn’t have come on this holiday!

And for the first time since joining the M74 at Abington I catch a glimpse of Ana and Jamie, in my rear-view mirror, smiling at one another…

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