Milk & Manolos

The Summer holiday is booked, the wardrobe being planned. What to do with the Munchkin and her very lovely holiday companion, Lola Rose is next on the check list.

My agreement to a villa based holiday was that I’d get to spend at least some of the time by the pool, trashy book in hand sans any form of responsiblity whatsoever. Who was I kidding ? While there’s no doubting the that Husbands is practically heaven sent there are still going to be times when we’re going to have two bored little ladies on our hands.

I couldn’t help marvelling at what a genius idea Holiday Nanny is. The clue’s in the name …

Specialising in one or two week bookings for vacation time, I can’t help being sorely tempted. Particularly suitable for this type of holiday, when the cost (£ 425 pw) can be shared between two, or possibly three families.

Most definitely a number to jot down in my journal. It could come in very useful …

I miss Wish You Were Here.  As the cold winter nights drew in Judith Chalmers and her posse of presenters would jet here, there and everywhere to describe to us just exactly what we were missing elsewhere in the world.  Back in the early Eighties each episode was screened with much excitement as we huddled around our TV to listen to Judith’s pearls of wisdom.  Thanks to her, we spent three consecutive summer holidays in Bulgaria.  Let me tell you, back in 1982 Bulgaria was the place to be.  The phrase cheap and cheerful resounds in my head.

So now, as we battle through those winter months, I start to pull focus.  I need to plan a holiday and NOW.  A task you would think was easy, but as those of you with Munchkins of your own will know, there are other variables we to now consider.

Baby Goes 2 is the place that any discerning traveller can plan vacations galore, each and every one of them ticking the various boxes they so require.   Covering the whole scope of holidays, from villas to resort based trips, Lapland to cruises (apropos the latter, I couldn’t imagine anything worse do with a child, but who am I to judge ?) this one stop holiday shop is quite simply not to be missed.

The villa in Puglia duly booked, all that’s left to do is buy the sun cream, find the trashiest book possible and sit patiently for another four months. 

The Husband is trying to get me to go on a camping holiday.  I fear he doesn’t know me very well.This ain’t any old camping holiday, but a week in a Tipi in deepest darkest Cornwall.  I have to admit there is a part of me that’s slightly tempted.  I could take my aromatherapy oils and dream catcher, and be at one with nature while cooking baked beans over a small camping stove. It’s all very Legends of the Fall.

I’ve only camped twice before, neither trips being what I would describe as successful.  The first time I discovered the delights of the outdoors was the summer of 1986.  Sarah Ferguson had just married Prince Andrew and I was on a camping tour of Wales with my father and brother, visiting various closed coal mines along the way.  The dirt and the smell of smoke fumes didn’t mix well with my reversible Mickey Mouse jumper.

The second was in a car park in Wiveliscombe in 1992, in a vein attempt to secure a Duke of Edinburgh Gold medal.  As I patiently waited the 27 minutes it took to heat water for my cup-a-soup I managed to devour the entirety of my Kendal Mint Cake.  Let me tell you, it wasn’t a happy combination.  I emerged from my tent the next morning following what I can only describe as a re-birthing experience, the walls of the tent contracting angrily in the wind in the hope to expel me with gusto.  Needless to say I vowed then and there that I would never camp again.

So am I prepared to give it a go 2008 stylie with Husband, Munchkin and dream catcher in tow ?  I figure enough water has travelled under the bridge for me to extend the hand of friendship again to the great outdoors.  If it happens however, they’ll be one hell of a rider.

Autumn is my favourite season by far. The sparkly lights, the falling leaves and the hot chocolates in the park on Sunday afternoons are just some of the things I look forward to come September 1st. It’s also the sexiest month - it’s cold and a girls gotta keep warm, but the less said about that the better. I’m always keen on a weekend away about this time too. There’s nothing like getting out of the big smoke to see nature do her thing first hand in the country.

Woolley Grange in Wiltshire is a perfect getaway. In order to truly enjoy it you’ll have to have your Munchkin with you (only because if don’t you’ll simply be surrounded by everyone else’s, so you might as well let then get in on the act, this time). We went for a night last October and after a mere 24 hours not only were we all rejuvenated, and all our boxes were ticked.

The great thing about Woolley Grange, and indeed all the hotels under the Luxury Family Hotels chain, is that it really does cater to everyone. There’s a crèche for the Munchkin so, joy of joys, we could actually spending some daylight hours a deux. We even splashed out on an late afternoon bottle of bubbly to celebrate our new found freedom. Following this, a brief (and drunken) spell on the hotel’s trampoline brought much hilarity and a regression to our youth. For a couple of hours it honestly felt like we were 25 again and on the best date ever. Better still, the Munchkin had a whale of a time larging it up at the nursery without the Olds cramping her style.

Following an early supper for small people in the dining room the Munchkin was tucked up in bed by 7.30 and we were ready to enjoy the gourmet meal included in the price of our room. We were even able to leave her in the room as the hotel operates a baby listening service co-ordinated by the receptionist - if there’s so much as a peep out of them you’re alerted by a smartly dressed man who apologises for disturbing your meal. I know this as the couple sat next to us weren’t quite as lucky as us in the Munchkin sleeping stakes.

Following a the fullest English Breakfast I can remember eating for a very long time, and the Munchkin’s pouring of apple juice onto the Restaurant’s carpet, we enjoyed a long walk with the hotels dog, Peanut, before heading back to the city each with a glow in our cheeks.