Learner Dad: The best thing about sunshine holidays is you don’t have to make decisions 

Pic: Pexels

By the time you read this, I’ll be on holidays.

This is the campsite holiday in France that has been cancelled two years in a row because of Covid. It’s the same place we went to in 2019, so I know what to expect.

Actually, I saw a report saying that a lot of people are going on holidays to places they visited before Covid. I get that.

My guess is that when people fantasise now, they think of themselves back in 2019, drinking white wine for lunch by the Mediterranean while their kids make friends in a playground.

It isn’t just the vitamin D we missed over the past couple of years. The best thing about a sunshine holiday is you don’t have to make any decisions. Wake up in Ireland and it’s a white-knuckle ride on met.ie, trying to see if you’ll get a chance to wear your new shorts, or whether it will be too windy to bring the kids to the beach. If the beach is out, what are you going to do for the day? And the day after that, because met.ie isn’t holding out much hope for tomorrow.

You wake up by the Mediterranean, you put on your shorts and decide between the pool and the beach. It’s a bit cloudy one of the days so you head to a UNESCO preserved village and spend a fortune on a new leather wallet. I love doing that.

As much as I love spending time around Ireland, I always arrive home from a foreign holiday with my batteries recharged. So I know it’s going to be good to be back in the sun after two years away.

Our kids are going to seem very grown-up. The last time we were at this campsite, they were five and seven years of age. You’d still need to keep an eye on them. I had a second can of beer on our last night and said yes to my five-year-old son when he asked if he could go play video games with his new fast friend Max.

I didn’t know where Max’s mobile home was and it’s not like a five-year-old boy will stop playing video games because he has to try and find his way home. I spent a while stalking up and down the mobile-home-lined lanes looking for Max.

I won’t have to look for him this year. My son is a bit older and wiser, and so am I.

This is the year when we can send our two off to the nearby shop to buy a few croissants for breakfast, safe in the knowledge that they’ll find their way back, probably with a few doughnuts as well, but that’s what holidays are for. They can go to the playground by themselves as well, which will give us lounging-around wine time in the evenings.

And best of all, they’re able to put sunscreen on themselves. This must be the golden moment for all parents.

Putting sunscreen on a child who can’t wait to go to the pool is like dealing with a slippery eel, as they try and wriggle free before you can get to the really tricky bit on their face.

That’s gone now. The one sunny day we had in Ireland this year, they just picked up the sunscreen and rubbed it on themselves, like lovely little kids.

This could add years to my life. The only thing I disliked about sunshine holidays has been taken away by the passage of time.

The only problem now is that this year’s holiday couldn’t possibly live up to its billing. I’ve been looking forward to it so much, that I’ve forgotten the hassle of an airport or the sinking feeling you get towards the end of the second week when you realise it is actually possible to have too much ice-cream and beer.

But that just means I’ve had a good time. And I’m ready to come home and enjoy Ireland again.