The Choices We Make

I’ve never been on an all inclusive holiday before. It never appealed to me really. Still doesn’t. Yet here I am, a third of the way through just that: all inclusive hell on Kos.

After several years of the kids suffering my holiday choices (chic little gites in France, seaside villas in remote Portugal; secluded Spanish cottages), we agreed this year it was their turn to choose. I’m extremely conscious that given they are now 14 years old (however THAT happened) we don’t have too many guaranteed holidays together and I want the kids to enjoy them. So, they scoured the brochures and internet; Paddy did his annual price comparison (seriously); and they narrowed the options down to three, based on agreed criteria and scoring scales. (Sad but true). The first one was fully booked (in January!) so here we are in option number two- Kos.

The resort is great; loads for all ages; spotlessly clean; incredibly helpful and personable local staff; lovely spacious rooms with fresh linen and towels every day if you want. The grounds are expansive with tennis courts, a football pitch, volley ball, four swimming pools and plenty of gardens. The beach is only 30 metres away so we get the cool breeze frequently, very welcome in 35 degree plus heat.

But God, it’s horrendous. The eat-all-you- can without exploding buffet, which many seem to take as a personal challenge; the holiday reps with their trite phrases clearly learnt at camp training, and trotted out anytime there’s a hint of upset (if anyone else calls me ‘my lovely’…….); the daily ‘talent show’ which I’ve endured for a number of nights now, despite the obvious lack of talent (although in fairness, some of them can sing, and much of the audience does genuinely enjoy the show, it’s just that I’m no longer four years old); and of course, the other PEOPLE! It would probably be OK if it wasn’t for them.

(Ok, I admit it, I’m in a bad mood. Don’t give out, just let me go with this).

Normally I’m very content to spend the day by the pool or on the beach, reading, swimming, dozing but there really is only so much sun tanning a body can take, even one that loves the sun and relishes the heat; adores the coolness of jumping in the pool and swimming in the sea. But today I got bored.

I should note, in my own defence that my kindle is in the (still) lost bag and I only brought a few books, mostly to encourage Ella to get back into reading. The hotel has a book recycling policy which might have worked but hasn’t, partly because a lot of people have kindles, so fewer books to recycle; and partly I suspect because the rest are illiterate. Their tattoed inscriptions are possibly the most reading they’ve done in a long time, and I haven’t dared check the spelling and punctuation on them. So, the book choice is limited.

This is also the first holiday without my mum and/ or Yer Man joining us in years, and whilst I can and do give out about the limitations of both,  I’m really missing adult company, and would love a conversation with someone aged over 20 about something other than my lost luggage and the evils of air con.

And of course this holiday is different because the kids are both so  independent now and totally able to get through the day without me; they have found friends with whom they want to spend the day, and I am very grateful for that, but the ‘interruptions’ from them are few and far between.  Given it’s an all inclusive place, they don’t even have to get money for drinks or ice cream. Hours go by without me so much as seeing them, never mind any conversation.

End result? I’m bored. Shite to read; no one to talk to; no logistics to manage (shopping, packing a beach bag); no engagement with the kids. Fuck, no wonder I’m writing this blog!