The other day we dusted off an 8mm movie, now transferred to video.
Percy the Pulveriser is a pacey, 12-minute thriller, packed with violence but not, I’m glad to say, sex.
It was filmed on one of our idyllic Cornish holidays, scripted, directed, rehearsed and acted by Sophy, Caroline, Jane, Charlie and Hugh — a mix of our children and the children of some very good family friends. The oldest was 13, the youngest 11. We grown-ups remember the Percy project fondly as one that kept five children happily occupied for several days, leaving us free to slather on the Ambre Solaire and toast ourselves while alternately gossiping and devouring the new Jilly Cooper.
Our summer holiday was usually spent in Cornwall and because we are a small family we always shared the holiday, either with other family members, or friends with children the same age as ours. It was the sharing, more than anything, that made the holidays a success.
Friendships forged then have lasted 30 years, and watching Percy again revived a stack of memories. Among the highlights were: crabbing off the jetty with Little Granny; beach cricket at Daymer Bay with the whole family; surfing at Polzeath; prawning at the Rocky Beach; and, on rainy days, the current James Bond movie at the Wadebridge cinema. Our children Sophy and Hugh still reminisce about “the time we were cut off by the tide and mum had to carry Rex (our 70lb labrador) over the rocks”.
“What about when Little Granny took us to see the dolphins, and Rex was sick in her car.”
“And when the grown-ups embarrassed us by doing the floral dance at Port Isaac.”
Holiday food, featuring Cornish pasties and cream teas, is remembered with greedy nostalgia. All age groups also derived great satisfaction from cooking the catch from our mackerel fishing expeditions, making moules marinières with mussels prized off rocks below the tide line, and gathering blackberries and mushrooms in the friendly local farmer’s field.
Fine weather was a bonus, but the success of those holidays didn’t depend on it. You can build a sandcastle and explore rock pools in the rain, or have a long-jump contest or a handicap running race across the sand.
We rented the same Cornish cliff-top cottage every year. It had a converted railway carriage in the garden and bunks in the attic, but only one bathroom, on the ground floor. We spent other happy holidays on a Greek island with our friends Mary and Spyro, whose boys gleefully taught Sophy and Hugh to swear in Greek; and in a caravan in Wales with Essex friends. The common factor in our best holidays was the fact that we shared them.
But a holiday isn’t always blissful — some can be downright miserable — so read on to discover how to avoid the worst pitfalls.
Forward planning
The success of family holidays depends to a great extent on advance planning. It helps if everyone puts down a marker beforehand for their favourite activity.Granny may want to visit a garden or two, Grandpa’s ambition may be to land a sea bass, and Uncle John’s to learn kite surfing. It will be easier to satisfy these desires if they are known in advance.
However, in a family group, democracy isn’t always the best system. Putting each question to the vote is time-consuming and doesn’t always yield the best result, so if there is a natural despot in your midst, let her be in overall charge. A friend, known affectionately as Mrs Hitler, gave her natural qualities of organisation full rein year after year, masterminding great holidays for 20-plus people.
Who pays for what?
There is always potential for disagreement and bad feeling where money matters are concerned. Ground rules about who pays for what should be established in advance, the main headings being rent, food, drink and outings. It is essential for someone to keep a tally of daily expenditure, without being too nickel- and-dime about it, so everyone can divvy up at the end of the holiday. The “accountant” could be the same mathematician who keeps the poker or scrabble score. A colleague has come up with another solution which is to get everyone to cough up before the holiday and put the money into a kitty. This can be used to buy all the food and avoids complicated mathematical aerobics.
Dividing expenses can be tricky if the financial circumstances of those involved are very different. For example, a merchant banker wants to share a holiday with his sister. She is a teacher married to a small-scale farmer and they usually take the kids camping. But her brother wants to rent a villa in Croatia, complete with swimming pool and tennis court. There has to be a compromise: the banker and his family can “rough it” at a camp site, and they may be surprised how much fun it is. Or they can invite his sister’s family to share the villa as their guests. In this case, tact is required when issuing the invitation so that the brother-in-law doesn’t feel patronised.
Who sleeps where?
You may not be able to complete sleeping arrangements until you see the accommodation. However, if you don’t work out a rough pecking order in advance there may be an unseemly scramble for the biggest room, the one with a sea view, or the one with the en suite. If Granny ends up in a broom cupboard next to a gurgling boiler while her teenage granddaughter gets a double bed next to the bathroom, friction is guaranteed.
Who shops, cooks, cleans?
Unless you can afford hired help, shopping, cooking and cleaning have to be done. Shopping and cooking can be part of the holiday fun but cleaning is always a chore. It helps if each person puts his or her plate into the dishwasher after meals. Our holiday house in Cornwall had no dishwasher, but a washing-up rota of two people each evening worked well. Everyone was supposed to clean the bath after using it. Some observed the rule, some didn’t. We cleaned the house on the last day, sweeping out the sand after packing up and loading the car.
There is usually more than one keen and competent cook on a group holiday. Let them do the cooking — it’s crazy to make everyone take turns if it means burnt saucepans and lumpy sauces. Volunteer kitchen skivvies can also be a mixed blessing, hampering rather than helping the chef of the day. An unfamiliar kitchen can become unbearably crowded, so make a decree that only the cook and one helper are allowed in there. Deal with shirkers not by complaining about them behind their backs but by asking them nicely to peel the potatoes or set the table.
Who eats when?
Deciding meal times requires tact. For those who prefer to eat with their toddlers, the choice is between allowing them to stay up late to eat with the grown-ups, or making the grown-ups eat at 6.30pm with the children.
Both arrangements can be irksome for adults who like to enjoy a child-free evening, particularly when the local custom is to eat at 10pm. You can play the Granny-as-baby-sitter card once or twice but must make it up to her by taking her out another night.
What shall we do today?
There is no need to argue about whether to go to the beach or the cathedral. If you split into groups, everyone can do what they want. To avoid frustrating mornings waiting for people to make up their minds, time spent planning the next day pays dividends.
Remember that childless family members may find children exhausting and, sometimes (even yours), boring. They, and everyone else, will benefit from some time to themselves. Granny may need an afternoon snooze, Uncle Joe a solitary walk, and couples will appreciate a night out à deux.
You shouldn’t expect a stress-free fortnight (there always came an afternoon half way through our holidays when I retired to bed and cried), nor should you expect everyone to enjoy themselves every minute. But you’ll know that you got it right when you hear on the journey home: “Let’s do it again next year.”
Top tips for parents
Never go on holidays without
Your mobile phone, but ban business calls.
