Part 3: The (not so) secret diary of Sally, aged fiftysomething and three quarters
25 Nov 2016 08:41 by Sam Taylor
In the final part of the (not so) secret diary of Sally, there are lots of games and some emotional farewells! Many thanks to Sally for her entertaining writing and congratulations on winning diary of the year!
Day 5 – Wednesday 31st August
Aeroball! What a scream! A bunch of grown adults, all thinking that they will find this combination of trampolining and basketball childish and pointless, hollering encouragement to their team mates and mock insults to their oppos. Our ages ranged from 18-65 but we had the average mental age of an 8 year old.
While I am ‘regress-bouncing’, as the game will now be known, my kids are making bread and tie-dye t-shirts and my husband planning our fancy dress outfits.
Karaoke in the evening. We sang our hearts out. Ian and I did ‘Summer Loving’ from Grease. We laughed and cheered until we were hoarse.
Day 6 – Thursday 1st September
Who’d have thought canoeing could be turned into a friendly version of Roller Ball. We started off sensibly canoeing and ended up pushing each other in and finding ever more innovative ways to cheat. The pond was so beautiful and warm. Any non-participants pottered on the banks, taking photos and laughing at our antics.
The kids – I forget I have kids – are safe and smiling as they take off for archery. They run to us at the end of a session to babble their happiness; then run away from us without a ‘Goodbye’ to the next event, arms round a new friend and squealing nonsense.
Day 7 – Friday 2nd September
Nervous excitement as the kids are due in Jullouville market at 10am to put their French lessons into practice. We have rendezvous instructions and saying ‘au revoir’. Their task is to buy picnic items for our later foray to the beach. I am nervous for them but we hide it by pottering round the market buying garlic and cider. The children re-vien with tales of poisonarrie and crepes and euros and folk. They are thrilled with their achievements. I am a little choked.
An hour or two on the beach, body surfing and digging holes is followed by our final activities back at the Chateau. For some it’s clay pigeon shooting or archery. For some it’s practicing for the talent show. Two mums practice Frere Jacque on beer bottles, in a round. Ian shares his travel guitars. Talent sneaks out of the wood work.
Addresses are swapped.
Five of the 12 families state their intention to return same time next year. We are one of them.
My boy cries. He has made special friends he doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want this to be over. None of us do. But everyone has shared their addresses and photos. And at least five families are coming back next year. The tears of his sadness change tears of joy. What an amazing place. I can’t wait for next year. A bientot!