Travel - A New Dimension

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I have recently returned from a family trip to the eastern Algarve where we rented a villa and spent our days on the beach running in and out of the sea and building sandcastles. A reminder of childhood holidays from yore, except there was no need for a windbreak and we also forsook the opportunity for sandwiches with tiny fragments of grit in them for a small choice of coastal restaurants and cafes. The sun shone everyday; temperatures were warm and best of all tourist numbers were low meaning we frequently had a vast area of seashore to ourselves.

The packing to get there was another matter. No feelings of warm nostalgia when it became a mammoth operation to accommodate a mountain of nappies, books, toys, baby clothing and essentials, despite our rental property being fully equipped. Does every generation invariably weigh itself down with more and more stuff? I certainly don't recall travelling with so much when the Eldest and Youngest were little but then my own parents probably thought the same when we arrived at the airport with a buggy, bottles and baby.

In retirement, I thought I'd got packing down to a fine art. Indeed I've even substituted my five sheet personalised Excel spreadsheet with a generic list downloaded from the internet. I've also discovered the joy of packing-cubes meaning I can quickly transfer items from holdall or suitcase to storage facilities at our destination and, more importantly if touring, easily find various categories of clothing.

It's surprising how easily the best rehearsed plans can be upset by one small two year old in the form of Grandotty who eagerly volunteered her assistance. Consequently and before we had even left home, I lost a lightweight fleece (a just in case essential earmarked for my cabin bag) as well as a small cross-body bag into which my passport, phone and purse neatly fit. Fortunately I hadn't actually placed any of them in there, when it too went walkabout. Eventually I gave up searching for them, intent instead on finishing the job, whilst all the time dissuading Grandotty from adding unnecessary extras to my luggage.

I failed miserably. Unpacking at the other end, I may have travelled without the fleece or small bag but had acquired any number of interesting additions from my dressing table which Grandotty had clearly taken a liking to and, despite me having removed them once, they reappeared in Portugal buried in the depths of those packing-cubes.

Of course, the holiday itself was a delight. Getting everyone together is always a pleasure and without household chores to weigh us down and the relaxed atmosphere of the sea and sunshine we found a winning combination. It was exhausting though. Grandotty has recently dropped her daytime nap and she or Little Sister need constant attention. So much so, that immediately following our return I have been scanning the Internet for inspiration for a recovery trip.

Can you imagine a world where the completion of one holiday requires the start of another to recuperate, and so it continues in a never-ending chain of travel plans? Silly me, isn't that world called Only In Retirement?



Comments

Treaders said…
You made me laugh about the grit sandwiches but you missed the bit about sitting in a laybye (sp?) eating them where everything shakes as the lorries go by! And packing with a baby!!!! I picked my son and his one year old up from the Ford garage where he was having his winter tyres put on - stroller, baby bag, nappies, snack etc. Still, if you don't pack it you'll definitely need it. But I'm glad you had a great time in Portugal. I was just thinking yesterday that maybe I'll try Portugal next autumn too (still thinking about India in spring)! Aren't we lucky though!
20 October 2025 at 08:55
Caree Risover said…
So, so lucky! Yes, those shaking picnics in lay-bys - I can never drive down what is now the A1M without recalling a particular spot which must have been my father’s favourite stopping point!
20 October 2025 at 13:37
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