Capturing The Last Day of The Holiday

There was a damp in the air, yesterday morning, and a cold whoonce of sadness that said: ‘Summer is over, and did we do enough?’ I became determined to use the last day of the holiday; I craved exploration, some small adventure; and this then muted – because I am now a dad – into: ‘Let’s visit a castle.’ I’d passed Dover Castle the day before, and felt exhilarated at seeing France from the cliff top, so I pressed them into it. Luckily my wife’s away, as is my Very Vocal Second Child, and there was only Grace and Iris to stand up to me. They were like footsoldiers crumpling before my cannon fire, I tell you. I’ve not been so in charge of an expedition in ages, and the experience was heady. We even had Mozart in the car, and I hom-pommed along, Dadly, as we spend eastwards…
Of course the reality of a castle, is never as good as the fantasy. I always hope to meet the ghosts of kings, to hear murder plotted in stony corridors; I arrive, and see men in beige coats, looking worried outside the Gents. But we had a great time.  The Eldest’s Planet Sized Brain needs to be sponging up information, so I got her the handbook and she read out facts about Wartime Tunnels. We saw falcons. We leaned over the windy roof and stared vertiginously at the floor. But really Visiting A Castle – it’s just an excuse to hang out, in an interesting place. I had a lovely time peering down stone holes with The Older One. And I always enjoy The Youngest One’s company. She has a wonderfully genial nature, and a childish enthusiasm to try things out. She sat on the throne. She swivelled the World War 1 Anti-Aircraft gun. She did full justice to the World War Two lunch. I felt glad just to be with them. I can’t say I gave them a day to be remembered in centuries to come, but there were moments when the stone corridors tinkled with our laughter, and the walls whispered with our curiosity, and that felt good.