When I was a child the mid-term break was “boring”. There just wasn’t an awful lot to do in Selsey Bill in the Seventies.
My husband is the same. We have to remind ourselves not to punch the air with excitement when the holidays are approaching. Heaven forbid that our little darlings should pick up on any negative feelings about school.
We have read those reports on the rocketing cost of childcare — but as half term is only a week, it seems worth it for the extra ten minutes in bed (childminders being more forgiving than teachers about arriving late). It’s a break from the tyranny of the 8.55am register and Sunday-night uniform-ironing.
Any time that you take off work to spend with the children during the week feels wonderfully illicit. And it’s gratifying how much they love it, whether you take them to an overpriced attraction or worthy craft sessions at a museum (oh, the treasure trails we have followed and T-shirts we have decorated). Maybe it’s because there’s no plane to catch, but to my mind these stolen days out are even more pleasurable than a week’s skiing or proper summer holiday.
With no school in the morning, who cares what time the children go to bed? We have been known to stay in our pyjamas until lunchtime and not to have a bath all week. Stories seem more fun when there are no new words to be learnt by rote. If you thought about it too much, you’d start asking why you send the children to school at all.
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I admit that I don’t like . . .
Bank Holidays — a nasty surprise for us home workers, who find ourselves trying to get hold of people who aren’t there. They are all in Sainsbury’s or Homebase, clogging the aisles and spoiling one of the many pleasures of not working in an office — shopping when everyone else is at work.