My spirits lifted with the entrance barrier. Coming up a rare few days when I’d be in the company of my adult children (Jonathon & Rachel), their affable partners (Jenny & Brian), my partner (Sarah) and, dare I say it, most importantly my beautiful three-month old granddaughter Rosie Dot.
The raised entrance barrier affording Sarah and my access into the Sherwood Forest Center Parc Holiday village. The venue to a long awaited family break. Our home for three days, a woodland wonderland granting well furnished chalet accommodation in conjunction with provision of more activities than you can shake a stick at… That’s if you were in possession a stick with which to make an arbitrary shake.
With each group member forgetting our sticks, we were forced to use branches as shaking accoutrements… A practise now without jeopardy, as I nearly found to my cost during Saturday when Sarah’s careless branch movements almost poked my eye out… Clumsy mare!!
Our brood shared a three bedroom lodge close to the main centre of the complex. On arrival, we could tell it was three bedroomed as, upon inspection of the property there were three rooms containing beds… I’m reliably informed by someone far more learned, if another room had’ve included a bed our temporary residence would have been a four bedroomed lodge.
As it turned out, though, no further slumber pits resided in any other room; consequently, our hiatus definitely took place in a three bedroom lodge. Circumstances meaning we didn’t have to climb over a randomly placed mattress to get into the bathroom or reach the sofa to watch TV.
Not that we ventured into the deepest Nottinghamshire woodland Robin Hood called home to watch TV… No, our aim was to embark on a raft of adventures in the fresh air, sampling activities among some of the most enchanting nature the East Midlands can offer… Like rafting.
As I say that was our aim… However, it turned out I did watch quite a bit of TV. As the famous saying goes ‘Telly shows always seem so much better on somebody else’s TV’… Actually, I think I might be confusing that with the adage ‘Meals always taste so much nicer when somebody else cooks them’...
I’d imagine those subscribing to the latter advocacy do so with the caveat that the person cooking the meal isn’t a shite cook… A scenario which’d render the theory moot.
Talking of cuisine, my beau Sarah prepped and cooked Friday night dinner. Her legendary home made lasagna being well received by the rest of the clan… Well, it was until they started eating it!
Ever the diplomat, my son Jonathon waxed lyrical about the Italian smorgasbord. Pointing out he’d never had the dish with shoe insoles substituting pasta sheets… His comment going some way to explaining why my fragrant partner was wearing converse trainers adorning lasagna sheet insoles… Perhaps the Brookster should’ve worn her gigs when cooking the dish.
Like yours truly, Sarah isn’t keen on wearing her gigs unless absolutely necessary. For example, times when she wants to be able to see things!
The star of the show was young Rosie. Her poetic beauty, exemplary behaviour and the fact I didn’t have to change her, going a long way into melting her grandad’s heart. Her daddy’s dad joining others within the party members being besotted by the three month old.
Footnote – I’m unsure why I prefixed Rosie with the adjective ‘young’ above. After all, with her being the only party member bearing that name, there wasn’t an old Rosie… Consequently, typing ‘Rosie’ in isolation would have been suffice… Which should not be mistaken for suffix, which is the opposite of prefix… Errrr…. Anyhow, moving on swiftly…..
It was great to see both my children and their partners. Rendezvousing with them both at the same time being as rare as coming across unicorns teeth. Which, along with witnessing someone cough, sneeze, break wind and make a cuppa coffee simultaneously, are apparently one of the rarest things you’re ever likely to come across.
Rachel could wait to tell me about her new work role of straightening trilby feathers at a local milliners store… I couldn’t wait until she stopped rabbiting on about it!!… Talk about boring; even the noose I brought, in the event her stories got too tedious, tried to escape!!
As our Center Parcs weekend was the only real chance I’m going to have to celebrate my 60th birthday (at April’s end) with my nearest and dearest , Sarah kindly procured a cake. Along with a tipple of some sort, they toasted my birth anniversary.
However, no presents were handed out. Consequently, I’m going to have to wait to see if I get my wish of unicorn teeth as a platinum birthday gift.
lovely