Why I Stayed Home This Summer And It Was The Best Decision All Year!
How have I missed out on the joy of staycationing for this long? The joy in waking in my own bed every morning is only the beginning.
Back in June of this year, I took my dad and my three kids for a weekend away. It was the first vacation I had been on in two years, and boy, was I looking forward to it.
We weren’t going too far from home. About two-and-a-half hours’ drive to be precise, to the exact area that the G7 Summit had taken place the previous weekend. Although, while sitting on Carbis Bay on the morning after we arrived, I couldn’t quite get the image out of my head of Angela Merkel and Joe Biden sitting on logs around a campfire, toasting marshmallows and singing sea shanties, on that very beach.
A momentary return to the wilds of Cornwall
I love Cornwall. It had once been home, and that particular part was where I had attended many a party in my early twenties. The land is unlike anywhere else in the UK; rugged, windswept, and narrow enough to sense the sea all around you.
The area carries with it many myths of old; of fairy people casting their magic and playing tricks, and on the land stand ancient stones and wells that are still worshipped by esoterics who dwell there. It plays host to the most dramatic of the English weather, being the first point of call for any of the weather systems coming off the Atlantic Ocean, yet when the wind stills and the sun shines, the green glistens and the sea sparkles, it is the closest one can imagine to heaven on earth.
And so, of course, I was overjoyed to be there, to have my senses tingling with travel joy again. It was beautiful, fun and…different from home!
But, what I hadn’t anticipated was the amount of work I had lined up for myself for just a weekend:
✔ Prepping the home and the cats, and all they needed, to be left for a weekend.
✔ Packing bedding for five people, since current Covid restrictions required that we brought our own with us.
✔ Basics for food preparation in the apartment we were renting, plus clearing the fridge of anything that wouldn’t last.
And, when we returned home, all the washing that to be done as well as clearing up the mess that the cats had made. Not having been away for so long had scrubbed from my memory just how much work I end up taking on, just to have a holiday. Yet, now it all came rushing back.
A Lucky Escape
This was only the first of two vacations I had booked in Cornwall for the summer. I had also made a booking for a week of camping in August, this time on the opposite side of the same peninsula.
However, a couple of weeks following our weekend break, I received an email from the campsite owner, telling me that they were cancelling our booking and refunding me my deposit, for personal reasons.
I am not going to lie – I let out a sigh of relief.
This let me off the hook!
Not that I don’t love camping, but it’s flipping hard work, when I am the one arranging everything, packing the car, making sure we have everything, from camping mattresses that won’t deflate in the night, to bedding, to gas canisters for the stove, to pans, plates, cups, and spoons. Not forgetting the pillows.
And then there’s the pitching of the tent, once you have exhausted yourself packing all of that up, leaving the house in an acceptable state, and driven the three hours to get there. All while probably having to listen to kids getting gripey at each other.
Then you get to the end of the week, presuming you survive the camping experience with no major issues and no tent leaks — in the fairly likely occurrence of a heavy rain and wind storm hitting (it is Cornwall, after all) — and you have to pack it all down, pack the car again, drive home and start the unpacking…all over again.
Oh, and I hadn’t even got onto the hassle of making arrangements for cat-care while we are away!
So, if you were wondering if I searched for another campsite to replace our original booking, you may by now have guessed that the answer was a resounding NO! This summer, my friends, we were going to have a grand STAYCATION!
I confess, staycationing is pretty easy for us!
To be fair, we live in the neighbouring county to Cornwall, Devon. It is usually grouped with Cornwall when people are searching for holiday locations because we have plenty of beautiful beaches (just like Cornwall) plenty of wild, green space (just like Cornwall), and we have the same traditional food and drinks: Pasties, cider, scones, and clotted cream. Although, we do fight over whether pasties originally come from Devon or Cornwall, and we are at loggerheads over which is the correct order in which to spread your cream and jam on top of your scone.
Here in Devon, it’s always jam first!
So, staycationing in Devon is not a hardship in the slightest. However, there’s this idea that getting away from what you see every day is a requirement for a healthy mind.
What I found this summer, however, was different.
I discovered that when you get up each morning, knowing that today is a holiday, the world around you looks and feels different. You start to appreciate where you live in a different light: you start to notice a new sense of fun emerge, the endless possibilities to pass the time with, the unfamiliar smell of familiar land in the sunshine, and the freedom to go where you please.
Going to the park, just because you feel like it. Popping to the local outdoor pool, with your child’s resident’s discount pass in hand. Visiting your favourite river spot, that you walk to regularly, only this time you have no time restrictions set by school hours, work, appointments, etc.
Taking a flask of tea and a picnic rug to a woodland clearing, along with some outdoor games to play, and a packet of biscuits. Utter bliss. Thermos-flavoured tea is the taste of adventure.
And that hasn’t even factored in a day at the beach.
I am now a changed woman!
Usually, we go to France every year and it’s brilliant. We spend time with my sister’s family at their Charentais home, and we go through the pains of camping in Brittany (although French camping is soooooo blissful in comparison with English camping). Meanwhile, the rest of the summer, in comparatively cold, wet England, is spent mourning our return from France.
Last year felt like a forced stay-at-home.
This year was a choice. And I discovered something new and, ultimately, something to treasure. The real Staycation.
I may even do it again next year.
