Different day trip, same old story ...

SO here we are, another bank holiday weekend, and families across the land have deserted the plain comforts of their homes for the picturesque discomforts of countryside and seashore.

It’s years since we last engaged in that particular brand of beautiful madness. Our children are not children any more and they go places without us.

Which is fair enough – sometimes I’d rather go places without me, too.

Still, I miss those holidays, even though they were hard work and occasionally terrifying.

Even now, when driving on an A road in high summer, I might glance nervously in the rear-view mirror to check none of the three bikes that were always strapped to the back of the car has fallen off.

But I might also remember the day three laughing children stood on a bright and windswept beach, each one with a kite successfully fluttering high above them, and how for that brief moment we had achieved perfect happiness.

But just because the days of banana sandwiches in rain-battered cars are over, that doesn’t mean the family trip is, too. Oh no. The kids might not

For that brief moment we achieved perfect happiness

need us, but the more crumbly members of the family do.

So we go to beauty spots with ladies in their eighties, ladies whose mobility is limited in every area bar the tongue. And, yes, it’s nice – but it’s a damned sight harder work than taking kids away.

The thing is, children at least pay lip service to doing what they’re told. Women of more mature years see no reason to do what anyone tells them, especially not children they spent years telling what to do.

So we play the part of parents in practice but children in principle, which means we might be in charge of logistics, but we’re not in command of strategy. That means there’s less of the beaches, bikes and picnics and more of the garden centres, tea rooms and knick-knack shops.

The al fresco in general is just not as popular. So should someone indicate the need for a comfort break, pulling into a lay-by and pointing to a nearby bush will only get you a slap on the back of the head.

Having said that, they are more likely to buy the ice creams than our kids ever were.