I need to preface this post with a caveat: we went to Union Lido campsite in Italy for the second part of a two-centre holiday, the first part of which was spent in Bella Italia. We had an incredible time in Bella Italia, and had agreed that it didn’t matter
White faces because Factor 50 never quite rubs in. Short-sleeves on the school run. Homework in the garden. Lunch in the garden. Dinner in the garden. A tidy kitchen because we’ve almost entirely relocated to the garden. Ice-cream every day – and twice on Sunday. There’s nothing quite like the drop-everything wonder
My first holiday as a parent was a bit of a shock. I remember looking forward to it, thinking that it would a relaxing, sun-filled, restful ten days – a few glasses of wine, some nice dinners, and lots of sleep. Oh and reading – a great chance to catch
It’s 8.30pm and I’m sitting in my garden as I type. The doors are open behind me, and I can hear the noise of tonight’s World Cup match. My husband is waiting until full-time, then he’s going to run to the supermarket for some mid-week supplies. And maybe some ice-cream.
Autumn equinox, the country bathed in an unexpected heatwave. A day to mark summer’s end with one last everything. One last ice-cream, one last outdoor lunch, one last walk on the Dun Laoghaire pier. It was the day of the All-Ireland football final, and Dublin Bay glinted in the sunlight,
The bags are packed, the kids are packed and takeaway coffees are in hand – we’re on the road to Rosslare to take the ferry to Roscoff. I’m beyond excited to be going on holidays and not remotely worried (read: reasonably worried) about the potential