This year we abandoned the vagaries of the British seaside holiday in search of guaranteed sunshine; it was glorious, but as my husband put it when we returned home, tanned and well rested, “it all came a little too easily”.
That might sound odd – especially if you’ve recently got back from a soggy week in Newquay, Brighton, or Llandudno. Yet, I understood immediately what he meant.
For the past seven years the farthest flung place we’ve spent a family holiday is Cornwall’s Lizard coast. I don’t recall a year when we didn’t get rained upon for at least a few days – one memorable week was spent entirely in anoraks.
But I’ve never had a problem with Britain’s inclement climate when I’m on holiday, because it’s the only time I get to fully experience it with my kids. There’s no solidarity quite like rainy family holiday solidarity.
We hide from bad weather at home, but you can’t do that on holiday,…