Nowt stranger than folk

Going on holiday this year had an interesting spin which he who helped create them and I had not foreseen before we leapt with unbridled joy onto the plane at Gatwick last week.

Usually all we bring home from holiday is a couple of bags of eye watering smelly washing, a bad mood from the inevitable row waiting for the bag to come round the conveyor, a slight hangover and a few extra pounds round the middle.

However this year we brought home an entourage of new friends and tearful memories of saying goodbye to them all. Holidaying with four (and ¾’s) year olds threw a new dynamic into our annual vacation – we got to meet and speak to everyone in our hotel. Now typically when we go away without our children we like to be anti social*.

We bury our heads in our beach reading matter and are oblivious to everyone, rather like business men on a packed London tube when a pregnant lady boards.

Twin boy and girl do not seem to have inherited this skill of blatant ignoring and instead they go out of their way to befriend everyone in the entire resort. And not only do they befriend all the other children but they ensure we get to know all the mummies and daddies as well. Putting us into situations which involve your four-year old daughter bellowing across the restaurant:

“Mummy there is Billy and Georgie, let’s sit next to them”

You are forced into the quandary of if we don’t sit there will they think us rude or if we do sit there will they feel forced to speak to us and are we in turn ruining their evening? I can just about cope sitting in close quarters with my children’s eating habits but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else; especially when twin boy does his pea up the nose trick.

Luckily for us Billy and Georgies’ mummy and daddy were quite lovely and seemed to enjoy our company.

Leaving was so hard, seven days in an all inclusive resort and I had shared more meals with these new friends than I had some members of my family. I was nearly sobbing as I said goodbye to the children’s entertainers who had occupied twin boy all holiday.

So now back in Blighty where the weatherman keeps bleating on about the threat of snow just to add to my grumpy mood we have only our 250 photos (don’t you love digital memories – how did we survive with either a roll of 36 or 24?!?) to remember our new friends by.

Post holiday blues are definitely rife in this house.

*it is only right to point out here that actually me and he who helped create them did meet beautiful babies soon to be godparents on holiday and they are rather fabulous people. However normally we like to avoid everyone like the plague as there is nothing worse than strange holiday friends who you cant hide from.