So. We arrived. It is green and the air is wonderful, and the silence overwhelming. (Not right now, obviously.) And the food... Ah! The potatoes taste like potatoes, daim bars fall from the skies and smoked salmon dangles from trees. There are rivers of milk and mountains of cheese, and lakes of yoghurt. The air is heavy with pine and juniper, and the children sleep until 8am. Although this might be due it the fact that they are still catching up from the non-sleep on the Airplane Trip Which Came From Hell. My usual survival mechanism of blanking it all out has kicked in, but notable lowlights -and there were many - included:
- The Baby pooing so comprehensively that I had to strip her, squish her, dough-like, into the airplane toilet sink and bathe her, and throw out all her clothes
- The Boy doing his usual about-to-land I'M GOING TO PUUUUUUKE, and then, true to his word, puking everywhere
- The Baby, hysterical and insane from lack of sleep (yet, natch, vocally refusing to sleep) alternating between laughing like a hyena, and barking like a dog. While the rest of the plane slept (or tried to sleep; it's hard to sleep when you're glowering and muttering about bad parenting)
- Landing (covered in Boy vom) and breaking the news it the children that we had another flight ahead of us
Anyway. We are here, dividing our time between eating and frolicking and sleeping. (Also - in case I gave the impression of it being too perfect - bickering and scratching mosquito bites and gazing in amazement at the creation of a cankle from a horsefly bite, and worrying about the maid disappearing into the night, in search of The Promised Land (Norway, apparently -who knew?)) The children can play outside on their own which is amazing. Actually, what is amazing is that I can say GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY without having to organise minders and play dates and anti-drowning devices. So this is what you country folk have been harping on about!
Tonight I get into my Volvo (naturally) and drive, through the not-dark, to Stockholm, and get on a plane to Mallorca. ALONE. I may never come back. (It is my version of Norway). I think it's fair to say that these are shaping up to be good summer holidays.
I've now totally jinxed it of course.