I know, 12 Days of Christmas and I’m off on a summer holiday in Corfu. These December posts are supposed to be wintery, if not actually Christmassy Well, back in September, when everyone was posting photos of their kids on the doorstep with large markings on their clothes showing what school they attend, I went through my own old photo albums for pictures of my own first days at school. I found them – but I also found my first ever trip abroad. I’ve titled this “my first holiday” but it’s entirely likely I’d had some trips to Devon by then. I have a vivid memory of a cooking pot and a window and being in a hotel in Bournemouth with my grandparents but I’m assured that we didn’t go on holiday with them eight miles from home so apparently that one is just in my imagination. Either way, this is my first holiday to another country. My first trip on a plane – and my only one until I was fourteen or so. I’ve made up for it since. I don’t know exactly when this was but it was before my sister came along, which means it’s before I was two years and nine months which means it’s in the late 80s. I wish I could actually say anything interesting or intelligent about these photos but I was well under three years old and I remember nothing.
The photos are proper late 80s 35mm film photos, turned digital by the simple method of me holding my phone over them. That means they’re doubly bad quality but they’re kind of pretty in their way and I like the idea of having my first ever trip abroad on my travel blog.
This is an old, old story. I was first taken to swimming lessons before I could walk. I’m wearing armbands here but I suspect by this age, I could swim more competently than many adults. Anyway, my parents – my mum; my dad has never learned to swim and hates cold water – would go in the pool, leaving me on the side, strapped into my buggy. I would undo the buckles, toddle over to the edge and jump in the water. Cue horror from “the Londoners” – my mum has always been pretty adamant that it was entirely Londoners around that pool. But I was wearing my armbands and I could swim! I was perfectly safe!
Did I say safe? My mum looked fondly at this picture today and said “There was a hook in the back and we put you in your reins and tied you to it”. Yeah. There was no such thing as a car seat for a child in Corfu in those days and evidently no seatbelts either, since the way of securing me into the car was to tie me to a hook.
Apparently the bumper fell off every day and so I got into the habit of going round the back and kicking it back on.
Right from the start it seems I was a fan of swimming pools and deeply dubious about going in the sea. My taste in footwear hasn’t changed much either – if those sandals came in an adult size 6, I’d absolutely wear them today. The dress, not so much.
I did eventually get in the sea. Notice that I’m still wearing the reins that were used to tie me into the car. Even though my back is to the camera, I think I look like I’m enjoying myself at last. I do remember stories about going to Devon and hating the sand on the vast beaches, so maybe the problem in the previous photo was the beach rather than the sea.
I highly doubt I actually went out to sea on this pedalo. I think it would be out of character for both parents now for different reasons and I think probably that would have stood back then too. I mean, there’s a total stranger who looks like he’s in the driving seat. But maybe toddler!me did go out for a ride on the Med.
We stayed in an apartment which apparently had a balcony. Very nice. Despite the shortness of that dress, it’s really not a summer dress, is it? That’s a Christmas dress. I’m wearing the reins, which probably means I’m tied to the chair that I’m kneeling on and I see in the background that the building doesn’t look anywhere near finished. That’s the stereotype with package holidays and resorts even today, that they’re building sites. Now, the buckets on the table I remember vividly. The green one has a hole in the front which is the perfect size to be plugged by a finger. The yellow one has a bit of a spout. There was at least one more, probably blue, which had a mesh bottom. They’re designed for toddlers to play with water, not for water to stay in them. I wouldn’t mind betting they’re either still in the loft or somewhere in the garage.
No idea again. I bet my mum just cooed over those little red shoes. But I do remember the doll – again, probably still in the loft. It was slightly stiff in a cardboardy way.
We went out and about! I have no idea where we are but it’s not the apartment, the pool or the beach. Culture! I initially took this to be my mum wearing some gorgeous teal dungarees a la Lucy & Yak but on closer inspection I think it’s just teal trousers with a nearly-matching colour block t-shirt. In fact, the trousers are so similar to the ones my dad was wearing in the last picture that I half-wonder if she borrowed them from him.
I wish this post could be more informative. Corfu is a pretty big island, packed with classical history, castles, mountains and all sorts. I don’t even know the name of the resort we stayed at. But it’s not about giving you information that’s more than thirty years out of date. It’s simply about celebrating the run-up to Christmas by showing you the photos of my first holiday, my first trip abroad and that, at least, I have achieved.