My kids have just left to go on holiday, with friends, to America. It’s their first holiday without us – at 18 and 21, they “should” have holidayed without their parents much earlier, but Covid obviously derailed a couple of prime holidaying years into sitting in a kitchen with us, antibac-ing individual oranges, doing jigsaws and worrying that civilization had ended.
As a seasoned traveler – I’ve both spent nine hours in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport waiting for a connecting flight to Wisconsin and done a week at a caravan park with a club building called “the Freaky Fun Lounge” – I have much true life-hack travel advice for them. Unfortunately, I only thought of it after they left, as they shouted, “And don’t text us with any advice – because all your advice is overly detailed and makes us oddly anxious. Bye!”
