As the summer holidays arrive, Austin reflects on the best and worst of British, and enjoys some familiar comforts abroad.

We’re all going on a … summer holiday ( sing, quiff and pout please). It is a cliché – the hols, summer break – my Oxford student son called it “the vac”, yeugghh. The firm partner/employer part of me resents all holidays, instinctively wanting to quote Scrooge when Bob Cratchit asks for Christmas Day off “ it’s a poor excuse for picking a man’s pocket every 25th of December”. What – you want 4 weeks plus, and … PAID? Ye Gods, matron , get my smelling salts!!

Ok, got that out of the way. The reality is that holidays are not just pleasurable, but essential, and though there is less money about, I calculate an inverse proportion of the need for a break from the stresses and routine. The worse it gets, the more you need some R & R. so though some airlines are struggling, some a lot, I do not detect a will to drop the annual summer retreat and save the money.

In theory, UK and particularly Scottish holiday resorts and establishments should benefit. Instead of a trip abroad with flights and the ruinous Euro, we just drive up to one of our beautiful coastal towns and breathe in the fresh air and eat the superb local produce. Except that our recent experience just reminded us of the false economy you can find at home.

My wife and I a couple of weeks ago found ourselves unusually bereft of offspring as son was still in England on a summer internship, and daughter went off on a school trip to Lourdes looking after handicapped kids, so the two of us picked a nice Scottish Highland hotel for the weekend and went. We deliberately chose a fairly “good” place as we did not want the classic mean machine exercise – I once went to Oban overnight to do in trial in my Ross Harper days, and at breakfast was brusquely told that I was only entitled to one sausage. I am not saying the experience has scarred me, but I hate cheap hotels. Anyway, the one we went to was ok but not worth the money – unhoovered floors, peeling wallpaper, ageing birdshit all over our windows, unkempt garden, and a trickle only of hot water in the shower – and more. Or less really.

Having said that , the drive through Glencoe was magnificent, and the lochside scenery was breathtaking. We did enjoy ourselves. It is just a pity Scotland is still so far behind that cutting holiday edge. We actually put a report on Tripadvisor, and the owner called me up to debate it. No harm to him – it must be a tough job trying to run a top hotel in Scotland, but he was deluding himself about the quality of his offering, and clearly didn’t know what was going on in his own place– on the unhoovered carpet under the chairs in the lounge at least.

As a family and a couple we have holidayed around Europe and been in New York, though not strayed further in the USA yet. Every summer we go, and have done for the last 16 years, to a family hotel in Majorca, not far from Palma, where we have now a home from home. It’s a place which is large, but spread over a big area of ground with woods, its own beach, four different swimming pool areas, many levels and bars, so that if you want to be with other people you can be, if you want to bake on your own there’s space for that, if you don’t like to tan ( I don’t) then there are tree-covered areas of dappled light where you can snooze, read, contemplate, or, in my case, draw and paint. The facilities are endless, and every year they add or renew or create something to enhance the place.

The food is stupendous, starting in the morning with the mother of all buffet breakfasts – and though they cater for the mockney sausage and fried egg brigade, most folk - the main nationalities are Brit, Spanish, German, French, with usually a few Russians keeping to themselves – take fresh fruit, squeezed juice, Serrano Ham , freshly baked bread and suchlike. Dinner at night is awesome, and my annual delight is to sample Majorcan specialties like Arroz Brut and Frito Mallorquin. Majorcan wine is absolutely lovely.

The kids have grown up going there, and we meet by chance and occasionally by arrangement other families and couples who have been going for years and decades. My wife meets up with a lady, a very elegant retired music teacher, who lives by the Musee d’Orsy in Paris and listens to her stories of Parisian life with a degree of wonder and envy. Madame’s husband organises the daily volleyball match in the hotel. Another family – the mother of which is a lawyer of my age practising in Wales – has a son who is ages with my son, and while originally they would swim and play on the beach together, now they go out clubbing at night with each other. Where has the time gone?


When I tell people of this lengthy connection with the one hotel, they often start by scoffing at our lack of originality. But on the basis that though we explore Europe at other times of the year, at summer we need comfort and recuperation more than we need adventure, I manage to persuade a few that I am not just a dull stick after all. And there is a lot to be said for knowing exactly what you’re going to get for your money, and having the gratitude of the management for long-term loyalty (speaking of which, a few years ago when we were there, a family had their wedding reception in the hotel – the parents had been coming for over 40 years and one of their children was now getting hitched , so what better place to celebrate than their summer home?). We do not want to take the chance of going to a new place which might not be as good as the brochure or Tripadvisor says, have to change rooms because we have been papped into any old dungeon ( in our hotel we specify the suite we want in advance), or find that we have misjudged the type of clientele frequenting the place. Even the business of getting used to a new hotel would be wasting precious relaxation time.

Perhaps legal practice is not THE most stressful job in the world, but it must be in the premier league. And for as long as I am soliciting at the tempo I have become accustomed to, I will not just relish my holidays, both regular and adventurous, I will regard them as essential therapy.

When I was asked to start this blog a few months ago, I didn’t actually think I would end up ( AKA get away with) doing an entry called “ What I Did in My Holidays”. Hopefully I’ll get a pass mark, and the editor won’t give me the belt for bad grammar.

Wherever you go, whatever you do, ENJOY!

Austin

(Editor's note: You still get a star, Austin. Great post, as always.)