No, your eyes do not deceive you. Yes this is a scene of a hotel pool in the UK...and it's sunny!! Scorching in fact. I would post a picture of myself but I fear it would be one brag too far, the brag that broke the blogspot's back, however do take my word for it when I tell you that I am roasty toasty brown and it's mainly due to the last week spent lolling about the pool you see above. This is the pool of The Redcliffe Hotel in Paignton, Devon. Credit to The Silverback. I had my doubts about his choice of destination and don't get me wrong, we were the youngest people by ooohhh 40 or so years and outside the talcum powdered perimeter of this 100 year old hotel exists a world inhabited by fag smerking, chip scoffing, oxygen cylinder carrying, motorised wheelchair-using, tracksuit wearing, donkey riding folk who haven't seen an honest day's work since the end of the second world war - but that only served to make the surroundings that much more relaxing. I mean, you can let that depress you or you can accept that this is life outside of London and let it mellow.
And once you've learnt to live with this, you just need to make peace with the doddering pace of a septuagenarian waiter and you're home free - conquer the hand trembling, pigeon step speed of service and you very quickly found the mood shifted from one of irritation to one of relative zen. It's a bit like being in the Dominican Republic except there you might wait forever for a margarita that would never come. Here at least, the British sensibility dictated that while you might well be checking out by the time you get it, your vodka tonic would eventually come.
I have no bone to pick with this endearing generation. In fact I have the address of one and I intend to keep in touch with the delightful great-grandmother to be and her effeminate male friend. Yes sir, I do.
Rewind to a week earlier, to a much more bohemian week spent at the Kawan Camping village in Mesnil Saint Pere, Champagne, where a week was spent bunking up and bonding with a group of like minded people and our respective herds of children. It exceeded all expectations and ok, I had my doubts about camping...but I'll let you into a little secret, while we were at a camp ground, this dog did not camp. Did you really think I would contemplate a holiday in a fart filled bag? What do you take me for? No darlings - this is where we "camped".... ahem. I mean really!
But more to the point, it turns out The Silverback is a proper "Mr. Group Activity" and I have to say, after a week of al fresco eating with everyone pitching in and kids living like free range chickens, Devon was a rather lonelier experience by comparison. Still, we managed.
I for one, hope this is the beginning of a long group tradition. For now, it's back to the old grind tomorrow and you know what? I'm looking forward to it. Jesus, how much cough medicine have I had?
So the moral I think of this story is...dare to step out of your comfort zone you might just be dazzled by the results.
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