Eyeing LONDON

ON HIGH DAYS AND HOLIDAYS, IT’S ALL ABOUT THE GRANDKIDS FOR KERRE

It’s been a month or so since I came back to work, and while it’s been good to settle into the routine of day-to-day life, I’m already starting to think about my next holiday with my London-based family.

Seeing them means travelling to Europe in June or July. They can’t be expected to travel with two small children, yikes! At a pinch, Bart might be able to manage the 30 hours of travel, given he’s just turned three. But the active, curious and utterly fearless Dory, who’s one and been walking since she was seven months, not so much.

I shudder to think what it would be like to try to keep her constrained in one spot for a day and a bit. It would be cruel to her, cruel to her parents and cruel to everyone else on the plane. It makes sense that I’m the one to pack up my suitcase and head across the world.

And how lucky am I that I can do that! I didn’t start travelling until I was nearly 30, but once I saw the world I understood why everybody liked it. It’s a fabulous place, full of opportunities and challenges. I’ve never quite gotten over the thrill of taking off and heading away. Perhaps because when I was growing up, flying across the world seemed so exotic, romantic and something other people did. It seems impossibly glamorous still, even in this age of heightened security checks, long queues and annoying passengers squashed in next to you.

With the family in London it’s easy to get to just about anywhere in Europe, and over the past couple of years we’ve had some lovely holidays – at a chateau in France, a beautiful seaside villa in southern Italy and a wonderful hotel in an old manor house in Bath. The holidays we take now have to accommodate everyone’s needs. We need a place suitable for two small children – preferably close to a city hospital to assuage a grandmother’s concerns.

And Kate needs somewhere where she doesn’t have to lift a finger and will be able to sleep in and have other people get up to the babies. Three years of full-time mothering means the chance to have time on her own doing absolutely nothing is a rare and special treat.

Fortunately, she has a large group of willing adults to call upon when we travel away together.

This year, we’re not too sure where to go. There was talk of Serbia or Croatia. Portugal, perhaps. We’ll probably rent a villa again as my son-in-law and I love to source produce from the local markets and cook local dishes. I’d like somewhere by the sea too – Bart fell in love with the water when we were in

Italy last year and I’d like for him to continue that love affair so that if

(when!) they come back to New

Zealand, he’ll be confident in the sea.

It’s lovely discussing options and sending links to accommodation possibilities back and forth. We dream about the impossibly luxurious and eye-wateringly expensive beachfront European mansions and then lower our sights to what we can afford. I don’t care where we end up – I’m just so very grateful I’ve had the opportunity to see the parts of the world I’ve seen already, everything else is icing on the cake.

And when it comes down to it, I don’t care where in the world we are. I’d be happy enough just sleeping on the couch at their home in London for two weeks and hanging out at the local park. For me, right now, travel isn’t about adventure and new experiences and discovery. Travel is just a means to an end to see my grandchildren.