Journal

Holidays and get aways

After selling our house a month or so back, I began to wonder if I could attend the Indy 500 in a way that wouldn’t be completely selfish. Doing this involved fitting a family holiday in Florida alongside my trip to Indianapolis.

Initially, it didn’t appear as if it would be too difficult, with the hotels around Miami not being prohibitively expensive at the end of May. Some of them were a little further north than we would like, but most of the ones we looked at put the beach within walking distance. That aspect was somewhat critical for the four days I’d be up at the race, so that Fliss & the kids could get to the boardwalk with the minimum of hassle.

However, another problem was that as well as the date of the race being a fixed point, we had to be back on the 1st of June with Fliss having a wedding shoot to do on the 3rd. That left only a couple of days upon my return from the race to enjoy what was left of the family holiday.

The more we tried to make it work, the more we came to the realisation that too many compromises were being made on a holiday that was getting too pricey by virtue of that.

Fortunately, as my accomodation in Indy was being taken care of by an internet friend, it means the price of my trip is relatively low – flights and whatever I spend. So the solution we came to was to have a seperate holiday for the family about a month before I go to Indy.

The family holiday fits well with the “free” holidays I get at Easter and for the royal wedding – two events I’d quite happily avoid to miss their symbolism and hype.

After some brief research by Fliss, we decided on a week in Salou, having fond memories of the place, as we’d taken our first holiday there together nearly 12 years ago. A a nice family holiday resort has been built there in the meantime – complete with child friendly pools and activities that should provide entertainment across their five year age gap. We figured it was ideal, and cheaper than a week in Centre Parcs would be.

The only downside is that there are Spanish air traffic controller strikes planned for the same time. We’ll fly out on a day with no strike scheduled, but there’s one pencilled in for the day we return unless they come to an agreement. All we can do is hope they’re as quick at coming to a solution as we’ve been!

It’s great to have two holidays booked up for so early in the year. Our first holiday as a family of four will be memorable for sure, and I’m so much looking forward to attending my first Indy 500 on the 100th anniversary of the first race.

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Flashback

Toca’s Miracle

There are certain songs that instantly pull you from the present and whisk you off down memory lane in an instant. Toca’s Miracle by Fragma is but one of many that can initiate instant time travel for me, with a memory so vivid that it’s hard to believe the moment it takes me to is nearly 11 years ago at the time of writing.

It’s Saturday, March the 4th 2000. The very dawn of the new millennium and my first day in London after flying down to Luton the day before to start a new job on the Monday. Until then, I hadn’t spent any appreciable time in the capital, save for a brief visit when I had been a child.

To say it’s an overwhelming city is an understatement to a newcomer. But there I was on Oxford street with Cousin Iain, shortly after emerging from Oxford Circus underground station. It’s like that scene from The Matrix where Morpheous is with Neo in a simulation of the matrix, walking effortlessly through the crowd as Neo negotiates and bumps his way through the oncoming tide of pedestrains. Not that Iain had spent a huge amount of time in the city himself, but he knew his way around and wasn’t trying to take everything in to the same extent as I was.

So Cousin Iain is forging ahead while I struggle to keep up, until he pauses at a clothes shop opposite HMV. We go in to browse the jeans, t-shirts, and winter clearance items on sale. They have Capital Radio on loud, and soon enough Toca’s Miracle comes on. It had been around for a while by that point, having been a late summer hit in Ibiza, but was gaining the domestic airplay that would see it peak at number 8 in the charts in April.

As the song builds to the first chorus I find myself just being really aware of, well, everything in the here & now. The music, the store, the crowded street outside, and the unknown path I’m just setting foot on, all come together. Somehow I know it’s a moment I won’t forget, despite the fact we’re not doing anything particularly memorable aside from browsing in shops when we should be finding me a place to live.

I stand for a while immersed in my thoughts, before Cousin Iain approaches and asks if I’m ready to go.

“Yes.” I nod, and we leave the store as Coco Star continues to sing about needing a miracle. I still smile at the sentiment, but for me I knew it wouldn’t come to that. All I needed was a little luck and my London adventure would turn out fine.

Just the way it did, in fact.

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