This is my third post in a series of “TWEETS I Never Sent”: I did my first from Jersey, two years ago I did one from near Glasgow and this year we went near Edinburgh. To be honest it’s nothing to do with twitter any more, except that I stayed mostly offline. We had a hilariously bad camping trip last year but I feel guilty I never alerted environmental health to that site so I remained silent.

So, here’s what happened on our family holiday this week.

How to go from warwick to york to just-east-of-edinburgh with two young kids and still have fun (tweetsins #3)

Tried not to faff about what things I forgot to pack. Top tip: definitely don’t keep asking your husband if “we” remembered to pack the books/inhaler/gin. Either “we” did or we didn’t, and if we didn’t, apparently there are shops and even chemists up north. Next tip: keep checking the paper map and correlating with google maps on your mobile, unless you’re coming to an important junction in your journey, in which case ensure you are deep in thought about work stuff that you promised yourself you wouldn’t think about. Pretend you lost your signal at the crucial moment and make a mental note to zone into the holiday. This is quality time with your family.

Note to self: Two hours into your journey you will remember that quality time with your family entails listening to your sons arguing about the powers, parentage and real names of superheroes. It’s fine until they get really angry with each other and you make the mistake of suggesting that it’s not really that important whether antman’s dad was an archaeologist. At which point they turn their anger on you, and harmony is restored between them.

York was mainly hairdressers and tapas, which was nice. We didn’t go to the Jorvik Viking centre because the boys are currently scared of “models”, i.e lifesize people statues, and they’d have lasted 3 minutes.

The next day we went to Alnwick Castle. In the knights quest area, upon interrogation by the wandmaker on where they were from, elder son announced “We have come from Travelodge”. There was a hagrid and a harry potter talking. Youngest managed the requisite three minutes before screaming towards me and sobbing “I don’t like it, mum, its freaking me out”. Also at the castle were ridiculously ornate ceilings in the state rooms which put me and Tim into a mild mannered class war, but we sedated ourselves with icecream and the smugness of having chosen a good place to stop off on route to scotland.

During this journey we learnt that our youngest is quite an expert on vampires, ghosts and superheroes. He absorbs stories like a sponge. On mastermind his specialist subject would be “things that don’t actually exist”. We are very proud.

By Saturday evening we’re settled into our wooden lodge in a holiday park by the sea. We’re right next to a burn* and a little wooden footbridge. There is a resident duck. *Apparently “burn” is the correct scots word for a river/stream thing. Happy Days 🙂

Despite having a lovely time, over a week I manage to indulge in my habitual addiction: fretting. So far the list includes:

  • work stuff I promised myself I wouldn’t think about
  • my hairy chin (this anxiety sometimes rises to the extent of ruining a happy half hour)
  • my black tooth
  • whether I had set up a direct debit payment to my credit card (it turns out “we” had)
  • my hairy knees that I should have shaved (this was at the forefront of my mind for an hour on the way to the zoo)
  • the possibility that my choir performance will clash with tim’s aikido meal. in december.
  • something terrible happening to the children (there are many versions of this anxiety, illness, accident and abduction have all featured this week)
  • a particular specialism this week:anxiety about people falling into water (please see below for details)

We stay local on sunday and do a lovely nature walk, without any nettle stings, falling into streams or getting attacked by wasps. We do a lot of imagining about the ferns and the dinosaurs, and a little reassurance is required that it was all very long ago.

Monday is a family park, and it’s actually fun. There are a wide variety of ways for a child to injure themselves. My children avoid all of them, others are not so lucky. One poor kid gets his face scraped by a hay bale but his mum doesn’t seem too bothered. So that’s alright then.

On Tuesday near a dangerously tall harbour wall in North Berwick we eat lobster, crab and fish and chips. And there is a very cool steampunk cafe where we sit on unusual furniture and have good coffee and unusual cake.

On Wednesday, Edinburgh is busy with festival season and full of people with too much confidence. Good for them. We ate fudge on the way home.

Edinburgh Zoo on Thursday is busy with irresponsible parents letting their children climb in dangerous places. Luckily there are some good animals to watch so I do my best to zone out of catastrophic thinking and watch penguins. Here’s a question: that anxious bladder-tensing feel that we get when we’re high up or watching someone high up: do other apes get that? Tim suggests they probably do have that in situations that are dangerous to them. Do they get that watching another ape in a dangerous situation?

Friday: Berwick upon Tweed which has a strange faded elegance to it: it felt like a place of ghosts, and then a brief stop in St Abbs which was full of divers and a gang of teenagers running too close to the harbours edge.

Spent today driving back down through the north east sampling the bland delights of multiple service stations along the way. And home. Indian takeaway. And press publish!