YEARS ago I met this ex-Forces guy who had gone on to a career as a driver.
At the time he was working for an exceptionally wealthy family whose children went to school near me.
Getty ImagesLavish holidays abroad for kids is where parents are going wrong – here’s what you should be doing instead this summer[/caption]
His job would be to drop them off at school in the morning, and hang around the area all day until it was time to collect them in the afternoon.
I’d see him sitting around, absolutely bored to tears, just in case something happened and they needed collecting.
To my knowledge no such thing ever happened.
I heard a lot of interesting stuff from this chap, but one thing he said has always stuck in my mind.
He said they weren’t bad kids and though they wanted for nothing, they were well-mannered and he didn’t think of them as spoiled. As he saw it, the problem was that they were bored. Just plain bored.
Especially when they went on their no-expense-spared holidays.
He said they had the run of more jets, choppers and boats than most of us see in a lifetime. Swimming pools the world over, just waiting for them to dive into.
Jet bikes, bikes, motorbikes, whatever bikes to ride. Toys and toys and toys.
The best gear to play whatever sports they fancied. Every new hobby indulged.
And so on. And yet, he said, they were so, so bored.
“Because,” he said, wisely, “if you’ve got everything, you’ve got nothing.”
I think about this a lot, especially now I spend most of my time in the little village on the coast of South Wales where I was lucky enough to spend most of my school holidays as a child. We had a caravan on a site there.
My parents were friends with the grown-ups in neighbouring caravans, my brother and I were firm friends with their children.
Rain or shine we played football and cricket all day, every day. We swam and scampered over the cliffs, diving off the rocks, doing stuff
I probably wouldn’t have wanted my children doing. We never stopped. It was great.
‘Kids are happiest here’
And it gives me almost as much joy now to see young families there experiencing the same simple pleasures.
I take the dog out for a walk first thing and not long after dawn, see bleary-eyed dads being marched down the beach by their kids.
Bearing buckets, spades, balls of all sizes, fishing rods and determined expressions, they’re off for a day on the sand, whatever the weather.
I spoke to a dad last week who told me: “You know, we go abroad, spend loads of money, but when it comes down to it, the kids are happiest here.
“And when they’re older it’s days like these on the beach they’ll remember, not some hotel pool in Portugal.”
Getty ImagesSocial media pressure is suffocating. If you don’t spend all that money, what are you going to stick on Facebook?[/caption]
Getty ImagesI promise you that if you add them up, you’ll find you have many more good days than bad on a great British holiday[/caption]
Yet there are countless reasons that this family, and many others, will feel the pressure to haul themselves off to the sun, not least among which is the sun itself. I get that. If you’ve got one precious week away with the family, you won’t want to risk spending most of it huddled in a caravan or tent with the rain hammering down.
It’s also got to be said that if you’re not careful, UK holidays can end up costing a good bit more than a week in the sun — flights, hotel and all.
But where we need to have a word with ourselves is feeling this need to go abroad, no matter what. This idea everyone is doing it, fearing some kind of shame if your holiday offering doesn’t match up. Like not doing it amounts to nothing less than bad parenting.
Social media pressure is suffocating. If you don’t spend all that money, what are you going to stick on Facebook?
The money has to be found, even though in truth it might be more about taking your Instagram off on holiday than your family.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done more than my fair share of holidays in the sun. And they have their place. But they’re not the be all and end all. I’m just saying that there’s real joy to be had back here too, whatever the weather.
And if you do end up damp and fed up in a drizzle on a camp site somewhere, with nothing better than a leaking tent to put on Insta, feel free to blame me.
But I promise you that if you add them up, you’ll find you have many more good days than bad on a great British holiday.
FAT JAB ’N’ SLIM CHANCE
WE’VE all been there. You see someone you’ve not clapped eyes on in a while, and there’s a lot less of them than before.
In extreme cases someone you don’t recognise at all says hello, starts talking, and you wonder how come this stranger knows so much about you. Then the penny drops – it’s an old friend who’s mislaid half their body weight.
Something else we’ve all been through is the conversational pantomime which then ensues if the taker of Ozempic (or similar) doesn’t want to admit it.
“Blimey, you look well.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you, er . . . ?”
Silence.
“Oh, erm, good effort anyway. Looking lush.”
No need to be shy on my account. If it works, it works.
My problem is this: I know lots of people on this gear. For some, it hasn’t really worked.
For most, it has, and it has been life-changing or even life-saving.
But in every case, they have got hold of these wonder drugs privately.
The Government made them available on prescription, but only if you had type 2 diabetes and/or were seriously overweight.
“Everyone’s after it,” one GP told me. But at his practice they’d worked out that only one in 14,000 of their patients qualified. You don’t pay, you don’t get.
There is something similar in the diagnosis and treatment of adult ADHD. I was diagnosed six years ago, and prescribed medication. My life significantly improved.
But had I been unable to find the significant amount needed to pay the price, I’d probably still be waiting.
This can’t be right.
If you’re overweight and in need of a proper ADHD assessment (a not unlikely combination) my thoughts are with you.
Back in the world of the able-to-pay, I suspect the not-particularly-over-weight are buying all the weight-loss jabs they possibly don’t need, and those with relatively minor ADHD symptoms are being diagnosed in droves.
JUST KEEP THE BUDGIES UNDER WRAPS CHAPS
A COUPLE of weeks ago I read that budgie-smugglers were coming back into fashion.
And I’ve been delving deep into these things ever since, fascinated by what swimwear choices say about a man.
Adrian’s guide called The Smuggler Spectrum, running from most modest to most obscene
Having written and broadcast extensively on the subject I now feel qualified to offer you a cut-out-and-keep guide to the subject, which I’m calling The Smuggler Spectrum, running from most modest to most obscene.
Boardshorts. Knee-length and somewhat baggy. Hipsterish but harmless. Probably wrong on anyone north of 40.
Bog-standard swim shorts. Modest and practical, with that funny net stuff inside to keep the budgie neat and tidy. The best choice.
Tight swim shorts. Not so common, this one. The cut of shorts, but shorter and very much tighter. Ronaldo wears them as if, even in shorts, he can’t bear to deny the world sight of his thighs and other bits.
Budgie-smugglers. You know the style. Usually made by Speedo, leaving not much to the imagination.
Extreme budgie- smugglers. Look normal from the front, but at the back there’s that thong thing happening.
Obscene. Wrong. Never a good idea.
A BRUM NOTE BY BOSSES
IN Amazon’s series about the US takeover of Birmingham City, Tom Wagner, the financier involved, said it straight.
Explaining what he and NFL legend Tom Brady wanted out of Birmingham, he said he “thought that we could, you know, make some money, have a good return, which is our ultimate objective”.
Here’s some free PR advice for Mr Wagner. Next time you’re asked, say something along the lines of, “Our ultimate objective is to see this club enjoy success on the pitch and put a smile on the faces of its long-suffering fans.
“They deserve it. If we make a bit of money along the way, we’re obviously good with that, too.”
There you go, much better. You’re welcome.
VICIOUS CYCLE
I DON’T know what it is about these times, but there seems to be a lengthening list of subjects which are impossible for anyone to discuss in a calm, reasoned manner.
Brexit is one example.
Even now, nearly a decade on, it takes around two minutes before the shouting match commences.
Same with trans issues. Whichever side you’re on – and you have to have a side, fence-sitting is banned – swallow a couple of blood pressure pills and start yelling.
And here’s another one: e-bikes. I did a Panorama about them. To be honest, I felt it was a bit too fence-sitting, even for me.
Very balanced. I could see the benefit of e-bikes, but also some problems.
Result: I’m getting bawled out by both sides.
Can everyone just calm down about everything please?
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