When
I was a child, I longed for the endless summer that held the promise of water
fights, sleeping under the stars, and picnics on the lawn. I don’t remember there being as much rain as
we get nowadays, or maybe I’ve repressed that memory over the years.
I’m
happy to say that my three children also enjoy the outdoorsy summer activities,
and don’t spend six weeks attached to the various electrical gizmos that we
have dotted around the house.
The
school holidays always felt like an epic adventure, waiting to happen. Maybe that’s the writer in me, or maybe the innocence
of a child’s mind. Whatever it was, I’ve
tried for many years to recreate it, without any luck.
It
appears that with the arrival of a mortgage, bills, job and children of my own,
any childlike glee over the summer holidays
packed its bags and went away. Until
now.



