Messing about on the river

After saying last year that we rarely return to the same holiday destination, this year seems to be a year for doing exactly that. We'll be returning to the Bitacora (Spring Hotel Bitacora, Tenerife) for the third(!) time in October. Our (substantially shorter) camping trip this summer sees us returning to two old-favourite campsites (one for the fourth time - maybe we're more creatures of habit than I think!) and to a new campsite in an old-favourite destination. We're even considering fitting in a visit to Disney for the sixth(!) time. And earlier this month we returned to another favourite holiday destination - although this time it was at least new to the rest of my family.

The first time I visited Wroxham was as part of an unforgettable hen weekend (What happens on the hen-weekend...) last year. The weekend was a huge success, due largely to the fabulous group of women that attended and the impeccable organisational skills of Hen's Sister, but also due in no small part to the destination, the accommodation and the (boating) activity. We stayed in Waterside, part of the Boathouse accommodation offered by Barnes Brinkcraft, in Wroxham on the Norfolk Broads. The apartment sleeps eight, with four bedrooms downstairs - two twin, two double and all en-suite - and the living area upstairs, and it also comes with free use of a dayboat in all but the summer months. We spent daytimes cruising the Broads on the boat, with stops for the all-important pub lunches, and evenings chilling out together in the apartment (when we weren't doing karaoke in Norwich with the infamous Graham). It was the perfect choice for a hen weekend - and all kudos to Hen's Sister, as it was something I'd never thought of doing before. But in the back of my head, I kept thinking what a perfect family holiday it would make too. This is the curse of the parent - you spend half your life dreaming of an adult holiday away from the kids and then, when you get it, you keep thinking about them and how much they'd be enjoying it if they were there. Luckily I wasn't the only one feeling this way - one friend (to whom I guess I will have to continue to refer as Little Miss Clumsy - or perhaps LMC for short) was thinking along similar lines, and so it was that we found ourselves going on a joint family holiday to the Norfolk Broads and back to Waterside.

It wasn't the first time we'd holidayed together. We met up in Spain a few years back, after independently booking holidays in the same area, and three years ago we spent Easter at Butlins together. That was a very successful holiday and we had a great time - apart from the weather. It was so cold that it snowed - yes, in April. Perhaps we should have taken it as a sign, because the weather was the only thing that dampened our holiday in Norfolk - quite literally. This was the beginning of June - it should have been dry, sunny and warm. Or, given this is England after all, it should at least have been mostly dry, sometimes sunny and not cold. We couldn't even manage that. We had torrential rain on our journey up (enough to create a ford-sized puddle across one of the roads) and the rest of the time the weather was drizzly, grey and cold. Given that I hadn't even been needing a jacket in the month before we went, I wasn't expecting to suddenly need a winter coat. But my light waterproof jacket wasn't sufficient, and neither were the spring-appropriate clothes I'd packed. In fact, by the end of the holiday I'd had to pop to good old Roys to purchase some socks, new shoes and a jumper (and I kind of wished I'd bought gloves and a hat too...).

Weather aside, we actually had a great time. The children kept each other entertained while at the apartment, at the pub (ahem) and on the boat, meaning far fewer 'Are we there yet?' and 'He just hit me' refrains. We brought a multitude of games and the evenings (once the kids were in bed) were spent playing Taboo, Balderdash and Cards Against Humanity (if you haven't played this, look it up - it was hysterical, if not very [okay, not at all] politically correct!). I would definitely recommend a joint holiday if the people you go with have broadly similar views to you on things like discipline, bedtimes (the children's!) and the things you like doing. Family holidays are usually spent catering for, and dealing with, the children, often leaving you feeling like you haven't had a holiday at all, but this holiday didn't feel like it was all about the kids. They probably enjoyed it more because they had friends to bounce off, while the adults actually managed some grown-up conversation and didn't have to spend their time separating the kids. On top of this, it also meant we had two men to berth and unberth (I'm well aware that this isn't a real word) the boat whenever we stopped (not that LMC and I just sat there like princesses, ahem).

Of course, given that I'm infamous among those who know me for having holiday disasters, and given LMC's propensity to be, well, clumsy - not to mention the fact that this attribute has been passed down to LMC's children - you wouldn't expect a joint holiday to pass without incident. To be fair, such incidents were actually few and far between. No one fell overboard. To the best of my memory, LMC didn't fall over, drop anything or break anything. LMC's daughter (LMC2?) did fall over once outside a church in Norwich, giving her knee a resounding crack and reminding me of that awful age where you suddenly realise you're too old to cry, even though it REALLY hurts. My Dylan was actually the clumsiest of all, managing to step off the boardwalk at the nature reserve, resulting in a rather wet foot, and managing to fall in a water feature at the crazy golf, resulting in a change of clothes. He also managed to get himself lost in Norwich city centre for ten minutes, nearly giving the adults a heart attack. There was also a minor 'incident' with a swan, which clearly had no intention of letting us off the boat. But the main holiday 'disaster' was the boat breaking down. Yup, it had to happen.

We first took the boat out the evening we arrived, thinking we'd do a quick test run. It took about ten minutes to start and then promptly kept stalling, leaving us floating around the boatyard while we kept trying to get it started again. We finally managed to get it to start - and stay - running properly, and took the boat for an hour-long trip along the Broad and back. We figured the earlier problems were down to it needing to warm up. It stalled again when we tried to berth it back at the apartment, but we put this down to user-error. It struggled to start again the next morning, but we assumed again that the engine was cold. It started quicker this time at least, and off we set, with the intention of arriving at the Swan Inn in Horning for lunch. It stalled several times on the way, whenever we slowed down, and we started to think maybe there really was a problem. As we finally neared the pub, we had to slow down again to let some other boats past before we could moor. This was boat-suicide. We stalled again - and this time we couldn't get the boat started. We tried really hard to drift towards the pub, but it didn't work. We spent approximately twenty minutes drifting around, getting in people's way, before we were finally close enough to land to be able to jump out and safely moor the boat. Unfortunately, this was on the other side of the river to the pub - on an island, in fact - and in a private mooring. Still, it was better than floating around helplessly. We phoned Barnes Brinkcraft to ask for a rescue. 'I'll drive down,' said the engineer. 'Can't you get to the other side?' How we wished we could. Being stranded at a pub didn't sound like a bad situation to be in. Being stranded on an island was not so good, especially when we were all hungry and needed the loo. The situation was made worse by the owner of the private mooring turning up. 'Excuse me, you do realise this is private?' she said, looking none too pleased. We tried to explain the situation but she didn't look very happy with our answer. Luckily at this point, the engineer arrived, having waved at us from the other side of the water and then cadged a lift from some Broads superhero with a motorboat; like Boatman and Robin, they pulled up next to us and the private-moorings lady left us alone. The engineer explained there was water in the fuel, perhaps after the previous day's torrential rain, and he proceeded to drain it as best he could. After a while, he started the boat again - it sounded much healthier - and steered us over to the pub, where he returned to his car and we went for a much-needed late lunch. We were a little wary of getting back in the boat afterwards, but it started like a dream. 'Shall we stop at the nature trail on the way back?' we wondered. Five minutes later, the boat stalled.

We did at least get it started again easily this time. We carried on, thinking the nature trail might not be such a good idea. Half-an-hour later, we stalled again, and this time it took ten minutes to get it restarted . All thoughts of nature trails were abandoned - all we wanted to do by this point was get back to Wroxham asap, so we didn't end up spending the night on the boat. We got back without further incident, thank goodness. While we were getting out of the boat, Lee noticed a small silver lid on the roof of the boat - it was the fuel cap. No wonder we had water in the fuel tank... Luckily we had arrived back before the BB office closed, and they sent an engineer round early the next morning to fully drain the tank. We had no more problems after that, thank goodness, although every time we started the boat we were on tenterhooks. The moral of this is that actually the boats normally work very well, without any problems, so if you do experience any, ask for advice straightaway, rather than putting it down to a cold engine or bad handling!

So, for those interested in a holiday to Wroxham, what is there to do? Well, obviously, the boat makes up the majority of the entertainment. It was good fun going out on the boat (when we weren't stalling), and would have been even nicer if the weather had been better. (Luckily there is at least a canopy you can use, so you don't get wet if it rains.) The kids had great fun taking it in turns to steer (under supervision!), and there is plenty of room to move about or even play travel games - although the boat can only take eight, it could probably seat twelve or more. And of course, the views are beautiful, especially if you travel north-west towards Coltishall, a particularly unspoilt stretch of the Broads. We had been planning to travel a lot further, but we only made it as far as The Rising Sun at Coltishall in one direction (the 'end of the line', to be fair) and the Swan Inn in Horning in the other. We did eventually make it to Hoveton Great Broad nature trail, where we spent a pleasant forty minutes wandering around the trail, and we also stopped at Salhouse Broad for a picnic, a wander and some outdoor games. On  the last day of our holiday, having checked out of the apartment and said goodbye to the boat, we headed off to Wroxham Barns for some (vital) fudge-purchasing and a (slightly wet) game of crazy golf, before spending a couple of hours in Norwich - a beautiful historic city, which is now on my weekend-break list.

Wroxham itself is the perfect base for a holiday. On a grey day it can feel a little industrial, due to all the boatyards, but on a sunny day it has the feel of a seaside town (without the sea). It's a good size, with a multitude of shops - most owned by Roy, of course - and plenty of food options if you want a takeaway: Thai (which I'd recommend), Indian, fish and chips, pizza, kebab and, of course, McDonalds. There are two pubs in the town, the Kings Head and Hotel Wroxham. We only visited the Kings Head - once for lunch, once for dinner and once for a pub quiz, which I'm pleased to say we won, paying for half our pub dinner the next night! (For reference, the quiz is held every Thursday, starts at 7pm and is family-friendly).

As for Waterside and Barnes Brinkcraft, I really can't recommend them highly enough. The apartment was a perfect size for two families. With four en-suite shower rooms and a further bathroom (with bath) upstairs, there was no queue for the shower in the morning. There was plenty of space both on and around the sofas in the living area, and the dining table could seat up to ten. The kitchen was well-equipped with a dishwasher (although I'd recommend bringing a slow cooker if you're planning to cook - you can put the dinner on before you go out in the morning and it's ready when you come home!), there was a large TV in the lounge plus one in each bedroom, and there was also a CD player, a washing machine and various games and books. There's also a little balcony around the outside - sadly, we didn't have the weather to be able to take advantage of this. You can see a little tour of the apartment below, taken during my first stay at Waterside - apologies for the unmade bed and the towels in the shower! The apartment is already well-equipped, with towels, sheets and toiletries included (you'll need to top up the toilet rolls, though!), as well as washing-up liquid, tea-towels and a little welcome bag with tea, coffee, milk and sugar. Even better, though, if you are a returning guest, you get a loyalty hamper - it really is a very impressive hamper, with sausages, eggs, bacon, bread, olives, cheese, chocolate brownies and much more, and it provided us with a delicious cooked breakfast one morning! Another advantage of being a returning customer is that you get a discount on your booking. And although the stay isn't cheap, it's actually pretty good value, especially when you bear in mind that the dayboat is usually included in the price. A little tip - it's the same price to stay in Waterside for three nights over the weekend as it is to stay four nights in the week, so if you can afford the time off work, you get more for your money if you go in the week!

So if you fancy a break on the Broads, with lots of laughs and relaxation, in comfy accommodation and with plenty to do, you won't go wrong if you book Waterside. (But if you fancy good weather to boot, I wouldn't recommend bringing me with you - I don't have the best track record in that respect.)

The Great French Booking Debacle

When Lee started his new job, I knew there'd be two holiday-related disadvantages: 1) we'd have less money to spend on holidays; and 2) we'd have less time to actually go on holiday. What I didn't expect, however, was limitations on those six weeks. Unfortunately, due to the fact that Lee is working on a project, timing is crucial, and he was told he wasn't allowed any leave in the months leading up to the system going live. Even worse, the goalposts have been constantly moving since he started. Initially, he was told no leave in January, February or March. This wasn't too bad - it meant we couldn't go away in February half-term but it still left us the Easter holidays and May half-term. Then it was changed - no leave in March, April or May. Well, May was too late, as we'd already booked something for half-term. But this meant we couldn't go anywhere in the Easter holidays. It gave us back February half-term, of course - but by this point, it was already February and a bit late to book anything. We managed one day's leave and a night in London (see London - a budget-break blog). Then the goalposts moved yet again - no leave in May, June or July. This gave us back the (preferred) opportunity to go away at Easter, rather than throw away the leave altogether - but it was less than two weeks until the Easter holidays...

This is how we found ourselves, with ten days to go, trying desperately to book a cottage in France. Initially I was looking in the UK. I remembered the extremely cheap Welsh cottage (Don't judge a book - or a house - by its cover) that we stayed in last year (because that's another thing - we haven't actually got any money for a holiday), and had a look to see if it was available. It wasn't. Then I thought about Travelodges - we stayed in one for £25 a night a couple of years back. Sadly, I couldn't find any for less than £35 a night - still cheap, of course, but when you add on breakfasts and dinners out, it becomes rather less budget. Then Lee reminded me we had some ferry vouchers to use (one of the perks of being part of a winning quiz team!) so we started looking at France. And that's where it got more complicated...

I scanned rental websites, initially looking at the Nord Pas de Calais region - we didn't want to spend too long travelling if we were only going for a few days. There wasn't a lot that was big enough and cheap enough, and what there was wasn't overly appealing. I extended my search to Normandy and Belgium and finally found something. It was a pretty little cottage in Normandy, with beautiful gardens, and it was just £37 a night. I clicked on 'make an enquiry' and, in my best French, asked if we could book the cottage for our chosen dates.

On the plus side, booking last-minute means you may get a bargain. On the downside, there is less available. Another downside, which we hadn't considered, is the difficulty in paying. Hotels are easy - you book and pay online, then and there, and it's all sorted. Cottages, however, are less straightforward - you normally pay a deposit in advance and the balance nearer the time. You also usually need a damage deposit. When we've booked cottages in the UK in the past, we've always paid by cheque. I wracked my brains, trying to remember what we've done when we've hired cottages in France before. Hopefully, the owner of the cottage would soon reply and tell us what we needed to do.

She replied early the next morning. The cottage was available. We could pay in cash on arrival. Perfect. We would also need to pay the deposit in cash (Euros), which she'd return on departure. Not so perfect - it would be a struggle getting hold of €250, even if we were going to get it back, plus we would lose on exchange fees changing it up and changing it back again. Still, it wasn't as if our English chequebook would be valid, so it was fair enough. She also asked to see a copy of our holiday insurance certificate.

I thought this was a little odd. I've never been asked for an insurance certificate before when renting a cottage. I replied that I was confused - we have travel insurance through our bank, but it covers us for accidents, missed flights, etc. Why did she want to see it? She replied that we needed civil liability insurance to cover the property and her neighbours in case we caused any damage or harm. You must remember, at this point, that our conversations were in French. Hey, I got an A at French GCSE and can order lunch with the best of them, but this was getting beyond my capabilities. I didn't understand the concept, let alone the French - surely it was up to her to insure her property and not us? Lee and I read through the emails and suddenly it clicked - if we had insurance, we didn't have to worry about the deposit. I emailed her back and asked if I had interpreted correctly. Apparently, I hadn't.

At this point, I started researching whether this was usual (it didn't seem to be), and called in the help of a couple of French friends. They confirmed that she wanted a certificate of civil liability in addition to a deposit. I didn't want to pay for insurance on top of the rental, but thought I'd check through my travel insurance policy just in case. And there it was: third party liability. They would pay up to £2 million for damage or injury caused to property or persons by me. Perfect. This was what she wanted. I'd never been asked for it before, but it was obviously a standard part of holiday insurance and she just wanted to check we were covered in case we burned the house down or murdered her neighbours. Relieved that I'd finally gotten to the bottom of it and we could get on with looking forward to the holiday, I attached our policy summary to my next email and started researching the area. Then she emailed back. No, that wasn't sufficient. She wanted to see a certificate with my name on it, stating that I was covered for a stay at her particular property for the relevant travel dates, as well as my birth certificate, wedding photos, A-level results and a letter from my mother. 

Needless to say I was fed up by this point. I emailed to say we didn't have such a certificate and that we would have to cancel the booking, She didn't even reply. This left us with just eight days until our ferry left from Dover (I posted the ferry vouchers on the Tuesday afternoon and had a confirmation email Wednesday morning - can't fault P&O for efficiency!). At this rate we were going to be sleeping in the car.

I started scrolling back through the original rental website, as well as lots of others. The problem now, in addition to finding the perfect cottage with availability in a week's time, was finding somewhere we could actually book quickly. We didn't want to enquire and then wait for the owner to get back to us. We didn't want to email back and forth about insurance certificates and payments. We wanted to book and pay instantly and know it was all sorted out. I soon noticed on the HomeAway page that some properties had a 'book now' button rather than an 'enquire now' button. You could book and pay online, with no worries about changing up money or bloody insurance certificates. This was what we wanted. We eventually found the perfect property with a 'book now' button. It only had one bedroom, so Lee & I would be on the sofa bed in the lounge, but it was part of a château and in a perfect location - and it was cheap. I clicked 'book now' and input our details. I was a little concerned that it only wanted a deposit for the payment - it looked like we'd still have to pay the balance and the damage deposit in cash on arrival. Still, it all looked more straightforward than the last cottage. I clicked 'enter'. 'Thank you for your booking,' it told me. 'The owner now has 24 hours in which to accept or reject the booking.' What??? I thought we'd booked! I thought we were safe! I went to bed crossing my fingers. I woke up in the morning and checked my messages straight away, hoping to find a confirmation. Nothing. Twenty-four hours and sixteen minutes (not that I was counting) after we submitted the booking, I got an email. 'We are sorry, we have not been able to obtain confirmation from the owner, so your booking has been cancelled.' Noooooo!!!! This time the following week, we would be in France. With nowhere to stay.

We decided to try a different tack: Airbnb. We'd never used it before, but we knew people who had, all successfully. Time to branch out. We decided to look a little closer to home again in Nord Pas de Calais. We looked through a few - not only did we want the perfect, AVAILABLE house, but we also wanted one with a few reviews. I know everyone has to start somewhere and I'm all for giving people a chance, but maybe not the first time we use Airbnb and maybe not with less than a week to go. We finally found somewhere. 'Book it, quick!' I said to Lee. He pressed 'book'. 'What? It needs a photo!' he wailed. 'That's to make it a bit more personal,' I replied. 'Come on!' 'I'll do it in the morning,' he said, and went to bed. Needless to say, I didn't have the best night's sleep - six days and counting...

The following morning when I got up, Lee had submitted a photo. Apparently, he'd had a few goes at taking a selfie and actually managed one that didn't make him look like a serial killer - I hoped this would bode well for our reservation being accepted. He clicked 'book'. 'The owner has 24 hours... blah, blah, blah...' We'd been here before. This whole stupid idea was beginning to feel doomed (well, okay, it had felt doomed since the first email about insurance). On the plus side, we could pay for it all in one go and there was no damage deposit to worry about - making it extra important for Lee to look trustworthy in his photo!

I spent the rest of the day on tenterhooks. Every time Lee's phone buzzed, I asked 'Is it them?' We spent the afternoon in Folkestone, and I was constantly looking out over the sea wondering whether or not we'd actually be in France this time the following week. Finally, we got the email. Booking accepted. Phew! Now all we had to worry about was catching the ferry, finding the apartment and hoping the owner wasn't a serial killer. Hopefully this time next week, I'll be enjoying our French apartment, planning a blog about the advantages of Airbnb.

Incidentally, I received an email this morning from the owner of the château apartment. It wasn't available. Er, yeah - a bit late if it had been! Funnily enough, I haven't heard anything more from the owner of the original cottage, but I wish her luck with her civil liability insurance. Still wondering if it's standard practice for some people or if she just didn't like the sound of us - and that was without having seen Lee's psychopath selfie...

London - a budget-break blog

If you read my last blog (Sick of holidays?), you'll know my short break in London wasn't exactly a roaring success. To be fair, this was more to do with whingeing, tired, sicky children than anything else. If you want a cheap break in winter, London is actually a pretty good bet. Yes, you can stay in plenty of other places for cheaper (although London accommodation is surprisingly reasonable if you do your research). And in the summer, or even spring or Autumn, these other places might be a great option - country walks, lounging on the beach, picnics in the park and general wandering are all lovely ways to spend the day when the weather is good. But in winter, when you don't really want to be outside, cheap options are pretty limited - which is where London comes into its own. London has plenty to offer on a sunny day too, of course - wanders along the South Bank, around Camden, up Shooter's Hill or around Highgate Cemetery are all nice ways to spend an afternoon. And there are plenty of places, such as Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square and the Houses of Parliament, that are worth seeing from the outside - we popped past the Monument, the ruins of St Dunstan in the East and St Paul's Cathedral during this particular break. But the museums are what really make London the perfect winter budget destination.

The Monument to the Great Fire of London

St Paul's Cathedral

Entertainment

The beauty of London is the large amount of free museums. If I'm feeling flush, I will happily put some money in the visitor donation boxes, but it's good to know there are plenty of free options for leaner times. There are many well-known museums that you can visit for free, such as the Natural History Museum, the V&A, the Science Museum and the Tate Modern (a comprehensive list can be found here). As anyone who's visited any of these will know, we're not talking amateur museums that you wouldn't even pay 50p for - these are large, historical buildings, holding impressive collections, interactive displays and everything you need to keep you interested for a day or more. There are also many lesser-known free museums in London, so you can keep coming back and there will always be something new to see - although, to be fair, you could visit the Natural History Museum alone a hundred times and still not see everything.

Another such museum, holding over 3.5 million objects in its collection, is the British Museum. This is a museum we have visited several times, and decided to go back to on this trip because Finn has been studying the Saxons and wanted to see the Sutton Hoo hoard. The museum is so vast that it is a little overwhelming, and although it has plenty for children to see, it is not as family-friendly as, say, the Science or Natural History Museums. It reminds me of the Louvre in Paris, both in terms of its size and its collections, and I find it is best to visit with an idea of what you want to see and leave the rest for another day.

Inside the British Museum

Imitating art

Imitating art

Helmet from Sutton Hoo burial

Shield from Sutton Hoo burial

The British Museum tired the children out, having travelled up that morning, and we spent the rest of the day wandering and checking into the hotel. The following day, we visited the Museum of London, a rather different type of museum. It's much smaller than the British Museum and in a modern building, but I'm still surprised that it is not more well-known. It basically takes you on a walk through history, with a particular - though not exclusive - focus on London. There are lots of artefacts to see but also lots of information boards and interactive displays. It appeals to the same part of me that likes Ikea, because there is a logical route and progression through the museum. It is more family-friendly, and the scale means that it is actually possible to see everything - having said that, we only got as far as 1666 and the Great Fire of London before the children were ready to leave and move on to something else.

Great Fire of London exhibit

Dylan being a 17th century fireman

We finished our second day with a visit to the Tate Britain. I first discovered this by accident, embarrassingly enough, when I was aiming to go to the Tate Modern and walked in the wrong direction along the South Bank (I should probably add that it isn't actually on the south bank at all - I really was very lost). As you might imagine, the Tate Britain is a smaller, more manageable version of the Tate Modern. There are plenty of interesting paintings, sculptures and installations, from the well-known (Tracey Emin's Unmade Bed was a highlight, if not necessarily for the right reasons!) to the unknown. I find art galleries are actually a surprisingly good destination for my children, as art can be appreciated (or not) on any level - they are quick to give their opinions on what they see, and enjoy interpreting some of the less obvious works. An hour or two here rounded off our day nicely - although, as always, I found myself wishing I could spend a bit longer without 'Can we go now?' in my ear.

Tracey Emin's Unmade Bed

Travel

In terms of getting to London, the more people you are, the cheaper it is to go by car. The train fare for one person may not be too much different from the fuel costs (or possibly cheaper, depending on where you live - train fares from Kent, however, are sadly not good value). However, once you start adding fares for a family of four - children don't go free on Southeastern Trains - driving becomes a far cheaper option. Of course, driving to London is one thing, but driving around London is another - not to mention the exorbitant parking. A frequent option for us on day trips is to drive to the O2 and park at the train station there (NOT the O2 car park, which also has exorbitant prices!). It's right next to North Greenwich tube station and costs £11 to park all day (and only £6 on Sundays!). This is not such a good option for an overnighter, so this time we drove to Eltham and parked for free on the street nearish Eltham train station. The only downside is that, although children are free on the Underground, they are not free on the train, so we had to pay for tickets for them to travel into London and back - this was still slightly cheaper than a day's parking, though! Once you're in London, travel is easy. As I mentioned already, children travel free on the tube, which is brilliant. We used our contactless bank cards as the equivalent of Oyster cards - much less hassle and slightly cheaper than buying travelcards. If you only want to make one small journey in London, the tube prices aren't so good but if, like us, you're travelling around, one price for all your travel makes lots of sense and works out pretty reasonable - our journey from Eltham was included in this too.

Food

Let's be honest, eating out is rarely cheap, and a large chunk of any holiday spending usually goes on meals. This is another time when you're at a disadvantage going somewhere in winter, as summer picnics are a cheap option, whether bringing along a packed lunch or buying a sandwich or a pasty form a bakery or supermarket once you're there. Another great option for London in dry/not-cold weather is to grab some street food from Camden Lock market - there are loads of little kiosks selling a variety of different cuisines for not much money. On this break, to keep costs down, we did stop at a supermarket to buy lunch, which we ate while walking. Not the most luxurious lunch, and a bit chilly, but it did the job. We also made sure we filled up at breakfast so that we weren't too hungry. Breakfast turned out to be a very good deal - for just £9 on top of our hotel price, all four of us ate as much breakfast as we wanted. It has to be the best budget hotel breakfast I've ever had, with a big selection of hot and cold food, so none of us were feeling too hungry at lunchtime.

Dinner was probably the most expensive part of the weekend, as we decided we deserved to treat ourselves a little. That said, we still made sure we saved where possible. There are no doubt plenty of cheap and delicious one-off restaurants in London, but I'm not a 'regular' enough to know about them! Plus sometimes, when you're dining with children, it is just easier to go for the chains, where you know they're family-friendly, have kids' menus and provide some sort of activity sheet. We opted for TGI Fridays. The main reason for this was because it had been my birthday a few days before, and I got an email from TGIs, offering me free desserts for my birthday. Sadly, the offer only extended to adults - however, a couple of days later, I got an email with a half-term children's offer for free dessert if they could name ten famous bears (having spent ages thinking up at least 20, in case they needed ten each, no one ever actually asked us!). As we haven't got a local TGIs, there was pulled pork on the menu and the free desserts were huge, we were happy with this. I would recommend signing up to all the chain restaurants, if you can cope with the emails, as there are often offers for money off, two for one or something free. It's also worth checking Facebook pages in advance, especially for smaller/non-chain restaurants. I would also recommend getting hold of a Tastecard or similar if you eat out regularly - we have a Gourmet Society card, which has various offers for various restaurants. They're often not valid for evenings or weekends, and you usually have to book in advance, but you can still get some good deals, and we've more than saved on the cost. Cafe Rouge is one restaurant using the scheme where offers are valid every day and you don't need to book in advance, so we stopped there for dinner at Bluewater on our way home, and got 25% off our bill.

Accommodation

When it comes to staying in London on the cheap, my hotel preference matches my choice of family restaurant - chains are safer. I've stayed in many cheap-but-still-lovely hotels and B&Bs around the country and outside of it, but I've learned that, in London, cheap is usually cheap for a reason. Again, it matters slightly less when you don't have children, but when you're travelling with your family it's extra important that your room is clean and not too small and that your hotel isn't in an undesirable area - or, worse, full of undesirable guests. At least with a chain, you know what you're getting. It may not be cute or quaint, it won't surprise you, but you know you're getting a certain standard. You know it will be clean and comfortable, you know you'll have a TV and a kettle, you know your breakfast is unlikely to give you food-poisoning. I've often stayed in Travelodges in London for reasonable prices, but over the last year or so, I've noticed Holiday Inns are also pricing competitively. It's worth doing lots of research with Travelodge, Holiday Inn and Premier Inn to see what you can find for a reasonable price. The other advantage of the afore-mentioned chains is that all rooms accommodate up to two children for no extra cost, so they're particularly good options for families. The beauty of London is that most places are easy to get to on the tube, so it is worth staying slightly out of the centre for the sake of saving a small fortune. On this occasion, we stayed at the Holiday Inn: London - West, near North Acton tube station, for just £54 for the night (plus our £9 breakfast!). To illustrate what a bargain our room was, I've included my Trip Advisor review below. Of course, I've left out the bit about Finn throwing up all over the bathroom and me having to spend the night on the kids' sofa bed!

Rather grey view from our hotel room - spot The Shard!

We stayed here for a night in February and were very pleased. The check-in was straightforward and friendly. The room was a reasonable size, with a comfy bed and pillows. We stayed as a family, so the sofa bed was made up into a double for the children - not quite so comfy but good enough! There was a flat-screen TV with all the usual Freeview channels (and a little welcome message!) and tea/coffee-making facilities. The bathroom was clean with a large walk-in shower rather than a bath. We couldn't fault breakfast at all - a hot and cold buffet with a large selection including pancakes (always a winner!). It is a little on the outskirts of London but just a couple of minutes walk from North Acton station, which is only 15 minutes from Oxford Circus on the central line. There is also a Tesco Express, a Subway and a couple of other places between the station and the hotel, which is handy. And the hotel's still close enough to central London to get some good views from the higher floors! I've bumped my rating up to 5/5 because of the bargain price we paid - just £63 including breakfast, and the children stayed and ate free. You'd struggle to get a better deal than that in London!

Sick of holidays?

Before I start, I need to make it clear that my children are rarely sick. Neither am I and nor is my husband. Honestly. I can understand why anyone reading my blog or who has heard my holiday tales might assume otherwise. It would make sense to wonder why we even bother going on holiday when we're sick so often. It would be logical to conclude that we're the sickliest family in existence. But we're not. We're really not. It just seems that way because whenever we are sick we just happen to be on holiday. Yeah, yeah, I know, the chances of that happening are directly proportional to the amount of time we actually spend on holiday. But the statistics don't add up - honestly. Without a doubt, there have been more vomiting incidences on holiday than at home - and, contrary to popular belief, we don't actually spend half our lives on holiday (or even a quarter). I promise. So why does it always happen to us?!

There was the time at the airport hotel just before a ten-hour flight to Jamaica, when Dylan decided to start throwing up (see Those without a strong stomach, look away now). And there was the time both kids got rotavirus shortly before our holiday to Lanzarote, and Finn was still throwing up as we left for the airport. There was the time when Finn had tummy troubles of a different kind at the airport, just after we'd checked in our luggage (definitely one for another blog). And there have been numerous times when Finn has thrown up in the car due to travel sickness (but only when it's least convenient and we haven't had time to get a sick bag ready). There was the time when Lee was sick in Tenerife, just before our taxi arrived to take us back to the airport. And the time we both got E.coli in Corfu - Lee was sick on a coach trip and I was sick on the coach back to the airport. Then I was sick in Prague, due to a cough, and on a mini-cruise from Cyprus to Egypt, presumably due to sea sickness. Not to mention more times than I can count in Majorca and Florida, but that was morning sickness, so I'll let those slide. There are probably several other examples that I can't remember offhand, but you get the point.

So you might wonder why we bother going away at all. After our recent break, I'm beginning to wonder too. It was only one night. One night. A night I was looking forward to - it was my birthday present, we hadn't been away since October, and our holidays will be shorter and less frequent from now on, so every night counts. We'd spent the day in London. To be honest, it hadn't been the most relaxing of days - the boys had been alternately hyper and whingy. We'd decided to go to TGI Friday's for dinner and had a 50-minute wait for a table. We'd all had big dinners and big puddings and we'd got back to the hotel feeling rather full. We'd read the boys stories, put them to bed in the double sofa bed and retreated to the bathroom. We had briefly debated the logistics of having a drink in the hotel bar, but it was already quite late and we were both tired. We'd decided in the end on our usual game of cards in the bathroom - just long enough to give us a bit of time to ourselves and to give the boys time to get to sleep before we turned in ourselves. We'd pulled the chair and a little table into the bathroom and there we sat, me on the toilet (lid down, of course) and Lee on the chair, playing cribbage while we listened to the boys whispering, giggling and generally not going to sleep. Eventually, all went quiet. We finished our game and decided it was probably safe to creep in and go to bed ourselves. And then, all of a sudden, the door opened. There stood Finn, looking not unlike something from a horror film. At first, I thought he was sleep-walking, as he didn't respond when we asked him what what he was doing. I did, at least, have the sense to get off the toilet and start to move away, assuming that was what he'd come for. Then he spoke. 'I think I'm going to be...' He didn't finish his sentence, preferring a dramatic interpretation instead. I wasn't quick enough. Stupidly, I assumed that was it. I moved the table but didn't lift the toilet lid. He was sick again. Everywhere.

At this point, I should mention that Dylan has become quite phobic about vomit - the very thought of anyone being sick is enough to send him into a panic. All the noise had woken him, of course, and he sat there in bed crying and whimpering. 'Has Finn been sick? Where is it? Is there lots of it? Is he going to be sick again?' Meanwhile, we're all standing in the bathroom, Finn, the floor, the chair and the table all covered in vomit, Lee and I standing there dumbstruck and unable to do anything. Eventually, we come to our senses and start to move - although this is easier said that done, due to the huge puddle of sick on the floor that we need to manoeuvre around. 'Do you think they'll have any cleaning staff here?' I ask. 'I doubt it,' says Lee. 'It's nearly midnight.' I know that we'll at least need a mop or some rags and realise I'm going to have to go to reception. I look at the chair and table in the middle of the bathroom and I know it looks weird. So I move them out of the bathroom and start cleaning them with wet toilet roll while Lee attempts to move Finn towards the shower and Dylan continues to cry. I throw my jumper dress back on and clump down to reception in my boots, looking ridiculous and having forgotten that the bar is still open and there are people to see me. The man at reception looks quite frankly terrified when I tell him my son has been sick everywhere, and eventually comes back with some towels, a couple of rags and an apologetic look. I arrive back in the room to Lee attempting to hose Finn down in the shower, Finn screaming because the shower is too hot, and Dylan still crying and saying that he doesn't want to sleep in the same bed as Finn. We finally clean Finn up, calm Dylan down and settle them both to sleep in separate beds, before setting to work cleaning up a bathroom full of vomit with a few towels. Luckily, due to the limitations of carrying all our overnight stuff around London with us, we hadn't brought pyjamas, so we didn't have to worry about hosing them down and carrying them with us the next day. Not so luckily, the bra and socks I'd thrown on the bathroom floor hadn't got off quite so lightly, and I only had spare socks. Nice...

Once we were cleaned up, we had a decision to make - which bed? The comfy bed next to Finn, who might throw up all over you at any time? Or the not-so-comfy sofa bed with Dylan, who wasn't so likely to throw up over you (although there were no guarantees)? I chose Dylan. Probably the worst decision of the weekend (other than the decision to take the children in the first place). Lying in bed next to Dylan, my husband over the other side of the room, I remembered the looks on people's faces when I mentioned we were having a short break in London. 'Oooh, just you and Lee?' 'No, the kids as well.' 'Oh... that'll be... um... nice?' A night in a hotel bed with my six-year-old son, the scent of vomit wafting in the air, was not exactly what I had planned. But it got worse. Dylan snores. Not gentle snores like you might expect from a little boy, but the sort of loud, rattling snores you'd expect from an overweight buffalo. This was bad enough. It's not easy to sleep on a hard hotel sofa bed with one pillow, in a strange room when you're overtired, with the worry that you might all have stomach bugs, and your son snoring loudly next to your head. Unfortunately, Dylan is also fidgety. I've noticed this when I check on him at night, but I'd always assumed it was just because I disturbed him when I opened the door. Finn has also complained about it before, but I'd assumed it was just Finn being moany. It wasn't. Dylan is the most fidgety child I have ever encountered. He didn't go more than two minutes without rolling over, arms and legs flailing. I got punched in the face, kicked in the back and kneed in the stomach. Repeatedly. The upshot of this was that I didn't sleep. At all. I didn't get one wink of sleep, let alone forty. As I lay there at six in the morning, room dark, squashed into a quarter of the bed with Dylan's arm across my face, having named all fifty American states, boys' and girls' names beginning with each letter of the alphabet and started on countries, I felt thoroughly miserable. This break had been a stupid idea.

The next day was hard work. The kids were awake at 7am, wanting the curtains open and not giving a monkeys about my lack of sleep. I felt a little more human after a shower and a nice breakfast and, determined not to let the previous night spoil the break completely, we doggedly visited the Museum of London and the Tate Britain, trying to let the kids' whinges go over our heads. We stopped at Bluewater on the way home for dinner at Cafe Rouge, conscious of not letting Finn eat too much this time. We made the most of our time, because that's what we do. Despite all our many holiday disasters (lots involving sick, apparently), we've never had a bad holiday. It's just that some are better than others. And this little break wasn't one of the better ones.

So what did I learn? Firstly, much as I love my children and I love family holidays, some breaks just weren't designed with them in mind. In particular, one-night breaks to London where every second counts. I can't help thinking what a nice weekend it would have been if I could have browsed the museums without 'Have we finished yet?', 'When are we leaving?' and 'Is it lunchtime?' in my ear every second, and if I could have slept eight hours in a comfy bed with my husband, rather than no hours on a sofa bed with Mr Fidget. Secondly, given our history, I really should be more prepared. I always have a couple of sick bags in my handbag already. But maybe I should start carrying around plastic bags, wet wipes, a change of clothes for all the family and a bucket. And maybe a swaddle or a straitjacket for Dylan, just in case, God forbid, I ever have to sleep in the same bed as him again. Shudder.

Holiday limitations

So here we are: the first school holidays since hubby took his new job (bar Christmas, but that doesn't count as we never go away for Christmas - see Christmas (no) holidays). I've already mentally adjusted myself to the lack of holiday time since he started the job - as I said in my last blog (what's really important), the regular quality time together more than makes up for it. However, what I'm still struggling to adjust to is the accompanying lack of holiday money. Sadly, it seems we are yet to find that elusive job that pays you a fortune and lets you have a life. Or even a job that pays a reasonable living wage to live that elusive life with. It seems that having evenings and weekends free goes hand in hand with not really having any money to spend on them.

It wouldn't be a problem if it was summer. Days out in summer are generally free - the park, the beach, a country walk. Eating out is easy - let's go for a picnic. Even holidays can be cheap, as we've proved countless times with our camping extravaganzas. Winter is different. The beach doesn't really have that same appeal - but soft-play, swimming, bowling and the cinema all cost money. A country walk is doable if the weather isn't too awful, but it's not the same without a nice pub lunch to warm up. Picnics don't really work unless you like spending ten minutes trying to open a packet of crisps with numb fingers. And the only holidays that really appeal involve spending thousands to jump on a plane and head somewhere warm.

So here I am faced with half-term on my own, with two children, no husband and not a lot of spare cash. Not a new situation for most people, I'm sure, but a shock to the system for me. A quick look at those handy Facebook memories shows me I was in Newcastle visiting my sister this time last year, and the year before that, I was in Jamaica. Best not to dwell on that. My first answer is to invite some of the children's friends round - the children get free, weather-independent entertainment and I get time to get some work done (another advantage/disadvantage of not being on holiday) - everybody's happy. But, the thing is, it's my birthday this week. I haven't been on holiday since October. That's a long time for me. I'm feeling deprived.

So I say to my husband: 'Instead of a present for my birthday, what I'd really like is a holiday!'

Of course, we both know that's not going to happen. But I am happy to settle for a night away. He books a precious day off work and we debate where to go. For just one night, there's no point in going more than an hour or two away. Where can we go that's nearby and will give us cheap/free daytime entertainment? The answer is obvious: London. It's an hour's drive away. It has tons of free museums. Job done. Of course, staying in London isn't so cheap. However, you'd be surprised - I was! - at how cheap you actually can get it. With a bit of research, I managed to find a Holiday Inn (London West) for £54 for the night for four of us, with an extra £9 for breakfast (again, for all four of us!). It's not central, but it's only a couple of minutes' walk to a tube station and then just fifteen minutes into the centre.

I am disproportionately excited. It's just a cheap night in London. But the last few years have made me reassess what's important and appreciate what I've got. Everything's relative, and a night away with my family is still exciting. Okay, it's not Jamaica or Australia or even five weeks in a tent in France, but it's still time together. And, regardless of anything else, I do like to get away, so it's still a mini-holiday somewhere else. Despite the limiting weather, despite the limited time and despite the limited budget, I know we'll have a great time. I have no intention whatsoever of giving up on holidays - I'll just become the budget break blogger!

Cairns Colonial Club Resort, Queensland, Australia

So I've left this one a little late. 'Late' is being kind, as it's now around 18 months since we actually visited the Colonial Club. It's so late that the only way to leave a Trip Advisor Review is to lie and say we visited in August 2015 (as opposed to, ahem, 2014). Of course, lying aside, it's been so long that I can't really remember it very well, so it wouldn't be a very accurate review - or, perhaps, a fair one, as who knows what might have changed in the last year and a half. Anyway, for anyone considering this hotel or looking for accommodation in Cairns, I'll try to help.

We first visited this hotel over ten years ago, on the recommendation of my mother-in-law. The recommendation came mainly because of the beautiful tropical grounds, and I can see why. The hotel has several swimming pools, landscaped to look like natural waterholes, and the grounds are filled with tropical vegetation and an abundance of wildlife (listening to kookaburras and spotting the odd bandicoot may be yawnsome for the natives, but it's pretty exciting for a Brit who's used to pigeons and worms). Unfortunately, when we visited (both times), it was winter. Back in 2004, this wasn't a problem. Winter in Queensland is like summer in Britain, with temperatures usually in the late twenties. That said, the pools were pretty shady and actually very cold, so our admiration stayed aesthetic. In 2014, however, it was a different story - the temperature was around nineteen degrees and it was rainy. The pools didn't even look inviting, let alone feel it. It was a big disappointment, as the grounds were one of the reasons we chose to come back to this hotel - visions of lying by the pool with a book, watching the children frolicking in the water, quickly evaporated. The pictures are of the grounds back in 2004 - the picture below those, taken on a boat trip from Cairns, demonstrates why I didn't bother taking any picture of the grounds in 2014...

Pool at Colonial Club Resort

The restaurant can be seen to the right

The restaurant is on the left and a pool on the right

Near Cairns, August 2014 - lovely weather!

We didn't actually spend a whole lot of time at the Colonial Club on our most recent visit - we were only there two nights. I can remember that the staff at reception were very friendly and helpful, the food in the restaurant was delicious the night we ate there, and it's a bit of a maze trying to find your room.

As for the rooms, they've certainly improved a bit since we were there in 2004. Whilst we loved the hotel itself and the grounds on our first visit, the room was more Hi-de-Hi than hotel. It was clean and comfortable, but definitely more functional than luxurious.

Room at Cairns Colonial Club in 2004

When we booked for 2014, the only option that allowed us to have our children in the room was a studio apartment. It wasn't huge but it did have a separate bedroom for the adults, allowing the children to sleep on sofa beds in the lounge (it would be quite spacious if there were only two of you). There were also basic cooking facilities, which we didn't make use of (other than the fridge), and a TV in both rooms - bonus. As I can't remember much more about it, I'll let my video (below) do the talking. Overall, I would recommend the Colonial Club Resort for a stay in Cairns. The hotel is a little outside the centre but it is a short drive or cheap taxi ride away. The setting is lovely if you have the time and weather to enjoy it, and it was actually very reasonably priced (which was a welcome change from 2004!).

Check out my YouTube channel (Holiday Obsessive) for more hotel tours, in Australia and elsewhere.

What's really important

So it's all change in the Holiday Obsessive house. Hubby has got a new job. No longer is he a stressed-out teacher, working all the hours of the day but with amazingly long holidays. He has joined the realms of the normal world, with a quite respectable six weeks holiday a year. What am I to do?

He first mooted the idea of giving up teaching nearly two years ago. I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, schools are a very stressful environment to work in, especially at the moment, and for him to leave that situation could only be a good thing. On the other hand, the idea of losing all those holidays was almost too much to bear.

On an average year, you see, we'd spend eight or nine weeks on holiday - and I don't mean off work, I mean actually on holiday. They wouldn't all be expensive or exotic - some would be downright cheap - but the point is we'd be away from home. We'd have a week in the sun in October half-term - there's something lovely about going somewhere hot when the weather in England is getting colder and the nights are getting longer. We'd have up to a week in February half-term - possibly visiting friends and family. We'd have up to a week again in May half-term - Butlins has been a previous May destination. And we'd have a week or more at Easter, maybe in a cottage somewhere, perhaps in France. The killer, of course, has always been the summer holidays. Over the last few years, we've taken up to five weeks to really explore France and Spain (or Australia the year before last). It sounds extravagant - and I guess it is - but when you're camping, as we usually are, you can spend five weeks on holiday for less than the price of a week's package holiday. The beauty of spending such a long time away is the variety - you get to see so many different places and stay at so many different sites. It can be an adventure holiday, sightseeing trip, beach holiday and city break all in one.

The idea of giving all this up, particularly our long summer break, was not exactly appealing. At first we looked at self-employment options. After all, I'm self-employed and work from home - if I want to take a week or five off work, I can. I don't get paid, however, and that's the crux of it. No income from either of us for five weeks is not really feasible. And so it came to be that, in December, my husband started a normal job. Nine to five, Monday to Friday, six weeks holiday a year. And the really funny thing is I don't mind.

It made me wonder why I'm so holiday-obsessed, and one thing became clear. It's not just about the sun - although this has huge appeal. It's not just about seeing new places and trying new things, although this is something I really love and my bucket list is pretty huge. It's not just about relaxing somewhere and letting other people cook for us - although this is an added bonus. The thing I like best about holidays, sickly but true, is spending quality time with my husband and children away from the stresses of everyday life.

This is why I'm okay with our new reduced holiday allowance. Quality family time on holiday was always so important because we just didn't get it the rest of the time. Anyone who has worked as or lived with a teacher will know how huge the workload is. Evenings were spent marking, planning and doing paperwork. Weekends were spent marking, planning and doing paperwork. Those bits of the weekend that weren't spent working were marred by the very idea of it lurking in the background. Sure, we would go out together as a family at the weekend sometimes, but my husband would be crotchety because he knew it was time he 'should' have been spending working. I remember one lovely Saturday. We had gone to the cinema for the kids' morning matinee, followed by lunch in a restaurant and a wander around the local museum. As we strolled back to the car, and I mused how nice it had been to spend the day together, I noticed my husband was quiet. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me the day had been a waste of time because he hadn't got any work done. That's life with a teacher.

If we spent school holidays at home, work would inevitably creep in. There would be a small amount of catching up on household jobs and then it would be more school work. When he wasn't working, he would be stressing about it. Going away on holiday, however, changed things. Away from home, away from the books and the computer, my husband couldn't do any work. The first couple of days of any holiday would always be a little uncomfortable. He would get itchy feet while he adjusted to not being able to do any work. And then it would change. He would relax. We could spend days together as a family, happy, laughing, enjoying life. Sure, the kids would drive us mad and holidays aren't without their own stresses, but it's a whole different world to the stresses of being at home.

So this is why I'm okay with having fewer and shorter holidays. I'll miss seeing so many new places, I'll miss eating hotel food, I'll miss the tremendous variety that a five-week holiday allows. (I wont miss our October sun - that holiday is sacrosanct and we won't be giving it up!) But I won't miss the family time because we now have it every weekend. No longer are evenings and weekends for work - now they're for chilling out in front of the TV or a film, going for walks, playing board games and eating pub lunches. Now they're for going to the cinema and wandering round a museum without feeling like we're wasting time. This time together is priceless, particularly while our children are so young. I never thought I'd say it, holiday obsessive that I am, but this regular time together is worth a thousand holidays.

Plus, free weekends equals lots of mini-break opportunities, right?!