Our Perfect Holidays

What does your ideal holiday look like? Close your eyes and try to picture it. Are you lying on an empty beach, sipping a cocktail? Are you paragliding from the top of a mountain? Are you having a picnic with your close family by a lake?

I know what my perfect holiday looks like, but yesterday, I was pondering whether it was the same as what the rest of my family would describe as their ideal holiday.

I wanted to find out what each of them really pictured as the ultimate trip away from home. I quickly concluded that if we talked about it, we would influence each other’s description and decided to get my loved ones to draw their ideal holidays.

Wriggly (6 months) and Jumpy (2 years 1 month) were too young to be involved, but Hubby, Crevette (6 years 4 months), Beanie (4 years 2 months) and I took part in my little experiment. We each had an A4 piece of paper as well as pens, pencils and felt tips. We were not allowed to look at each other’s artwork. It was all rather exciting if I may say so myself.

After we had finished drawing, I asked each artist to describe their masterpiece in as many or as few words as they wanted, and I have typed below their exact words, uncensored.

The first picture that was unveiled was Hubby’s.

When asked to describe what he had drawn, he said: “Very warm. Comfy bed. Cheap beer and food. Some kind of vehicle to get us around. Exotic food.”

Please excuse Hubby’s inability to form sentences on a Saturday afternoon.

After listening and noting down his description, I commented, “You don’t like beach holidays.”

To which he replied: “You would have been angry if I’d drawn the sofa.”

Crevette drew “Me and Mummy playing in the snow, throwing snowballs. We’re singing Jingle Bells as we’re playing in the snow. There’s a big star on top of the Christmas tree. The sky is very bright with stars. The snow is deep. We’re going on a ski lift to go skiing.”

Beanie’s ideal holiday sounds like this: “There was a thunderstorm, me, grass, rain and the sun. There was my whale and clouds and the sun and grass and the hills. I want to go skipping to the campsite because I’m going camping. I’m going to the shops because I have no bread then I’ll fall asleep. The end.”

My picture just shows six happy people (us) in an alpine scene. Crevette, Beanie and I are skiing, and our two little girls are sledging with their Daddy. Everyone is smiling.

I have fond memories of holidays in the French Alps with my grandparents. As a child, my grandfather was my main male authority figure. I admired and feared him in equal measures and he taught me how to ski, patiently and relentlessly. He is nearly eighty-two years old now and the last time I went skiing with him, he was as good a skier as he had ever been!

Hubby proposed at the top of the very mountain where I learnt to ski, and he could not have chosen a better place. We have not been there for a couple of years, and I really miss it. I would love to see my children play in the snow, learn a new skill and gain confidence, day after day. We would then have hot chocolate to warm ourselves up and eat as much melted cheese as we could in the evening, before falling asleep exhausted after our day in the great outdoors.

My happy place is at the bottom of a very long slope. Picture this: the mountain you just conquered on your right, another majestic mountain on your left, nothing but snow and trees. The wind on your face is clean, fresh, invigorating. You can hear the faint ripple of a stream in the distance. You feel alive, happy.