It’s surprising how parenthood can shrink your holiday horizons. Before kids, I always imagined I’d be travelling round the four corners of the globe, dragging a couple of little ones round edgy souks and bazaars, like something out of Hideous Kinky.
And then, I had those children. Suddenly the practicalities of travelling to far-flung places with young kids (who are always likely to have trantrums, eject bodily fluids, or – *shudders* – get lost in crowded places) took the shine off the idea of jetting into the unknown. Nowadays, holiday happiness for me is all about familiarity. Knowing the children are going to be kept entertained in a family-friendly resort, say, is worth much more than the thrill of visiting a place whose local menu I don’t understand a word of.
And I’ve come to appreciate the UK a lot more. We spent Christmas in North Yorkshire, where it was a real treat to discover Knaresborough, a place I’d never heard of and which turned out to be a beautiful, charismatic town. There are a few other locations that I’m also tempted to visit over 2015: Cambridge
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