Thursday, 4 July 2013

Scary Teen Hols

All exams now over (except for the odd lurking driving test), Perran and Carenza are finally seizing the holy grail that has long been held out to them and are going on holiday, somewhere where there’s sea, sun and stomach upsets.  The twins are going on holiday together with the same large group of youngsters who’ve been their friends since they were eleven.  Hopefully they will all keep an eye on one another.

“Will there be much culture for you to see?” (Me, hopefully.)

“Don’t think so.  But there’s a pool.” (Carenza, firmly.  Is there no end to this education business?)

They have learnt from friends who have already been on this kind of holiday.  Their manifesto:

“We don’t want to get drunk all the time – we want to steer clear of fights in nightclubs.  We just want to have a really chilled time.”

It is at this point that it becomes obvious that I don’t watch much telly.  I hadn’t really been worried about drunken night-club exploits so much as sun burn.  I have been pressing family bottles of factor fifty sun-screen on them, slipping after-sun into their suitcases.

Oh well, perhaps they can spread it on toast to “line their stomachs” before a night out, or drink it the next day as “hair of the dog”.

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