Wednesday, 26 August 2009

Where the real fun is

The holidays have been momentous for me.

From the moment my son finished his last ever nursery session, to now, it has been adventure, after adventure, for both of us.

I have been mocked for my level of organisation this summer. Having made a big deal of putting a spreadsheet together, that was really no more of a glorified diary, devised to ensure I had not clashed anything, and a quick reference for finding things to do, or answering queries to our availability.

The schedule has really been stitched together by several short stays all over the country, with all sorts of hosts, some great, some even greater.

Our stays at home have been short too, and our activities, even there, have felt different, like a holiday.

It has all been wonderful, yet exhausting all the same. Not only physically, but also emotionally. I can find enjoyment hard work, and tinged with a shim of sadness, that the wonderful woman that made all this possible is missing out, it can all be a little draining.

With that in mind, but certainly not exclusively because of, I have been careful to plan some time apart, some relaxing time for me, some extra adventure time for my boy, and also some time for people who love Max dearly, to spend time with him.

Relaxing is something I always thought I have done well, but I suppose lazing about doing nothing, is not entirely what switching off is all about.

Last weekend was V Festival, which I chose to attended again, while I despatched Max with all four of his grandparents to the Welsh coast.

It felt really strange when he set off, and I had that lost feeling, right up until I was occupied with spending time in the company of my fellow festival goers.

Max and I shared daily positive contact by phone, usually in the slots before I was totally useless, you know, after the worst of my hangover, and before I started on working on the next one, usually about 11.

However he was a little upset when I 'talked' to him on Sunday, and it was not entirely clear why. I was assured it was because he was worried about how he could spend some money his great grandmother had sent him, but I was not 100% convinced, and pretty powerless to mop up his tears.

Regular text message status checks assured me he was OK, but still, I never like hearing him cry, and most definitely not when I can not do anything about it.

Sunday was always going to be more sombre than Saturday, I am not really built for drinking heavily on successive days, and I do grumpy very well these days. The Killers were also headlining, and some of their songs, Max's favourites, were always going to be a slightly more serious affair.

Still I enjoyed it.

Saturday was really good, I enjoyed Daniel Merriweather, and some others, but Oasis were a bit flat for me, not really trying, just like they were at the NIA earlier this year.

This year's weather was much better than the previous two, and all-in-all I think I probably enjoyed this one more than any other.

I did not enjoy trying to get past the festival traffic, on my way to join my son in Wales.

But seeing his little face made the arduous journey an instant distance memory, and I was soon shown all sorts of things that my son had got up to, and the new treasures he had procured from his plethora of easy targets found himself.

Then, with the sun still shining after dinner, we were off to the beach, for me to get first hand experience of one of my boy's recent gifts, a wetsuit.

He really does love messing about in the water, and this new piece of kit means he does not get so cold while he is doing so.

It also had prompted my dad to dig out one of my old beach favourites, an old body-board.

This brought back a lot of memories for me, I used to love using these things, catching a wave and seeing if I could ride it all the way back to the shore.

Max had apparently only shown limited interest in trying this, but after I had set him up on it a few times, his pleasure, and mine, were immense.

As much fun as going to a festival with good friends is, it is not a patch on sharing in my son's enjoyment of new things.

May even need to dust off my own neoprene.