It’s not that we don’t love exotic holidays to far-flung destinations but when you have an old house and a big garden requiring a fair bit of love and attention, something has to give while you invest your time and money in upkeep and renovation plans.
With no far flung holidays planned this year (and potentially not next year either if we go ahead with the kitchen renovation) and photos of other families flying off to exotic climes flashing in front of me every time I pop on to social media, I've been suffering from a touch of mostly ridiculous and completely unnecessary mum guilt. Why? I have no idea. My children are far from wanting. And intercontinental jaunts are a luxury not a given. But, still. It's been niggling at me. So I decided to have a little chat with the boys.
Why is it that the mostly-beige contents of your fridge feel so much fancier when wrapped in brown paper, popped in a picnic basket and eaten under the shade of a tree? Or is it the chilled wine accompanying the bread and cheese that artificially make them seem so? Either way, sun, sandwiches, Saugvinon, and sitting on a pretty picnic blanket, you'll find no complaints from me.