‘Travelling with children is not really a holiday.
It’s just surviving in a different place for a period of time.’ – Unknown
We (my wife, two boys aged 8 & 10, and I) have been on our dream work-travel-writing-photography-homeschooling adventure across Europe, the UK and South-East Asia. In the UK we saw A Midsummer Night’s Dream from the yard of The Globe Theatre in the rain, Arsenal beating Stoke City on home turf, Matilda on the West End, the Roald Dahl Museum and the Harry Potter Studios Tour. We’ve stayed in a London clocktower, a gypsy caravan in the Cotswolds and a beach house in Cornwall and it all sounds extremely civilised. But, of course, it is not.
|Copenhagen street art.|
We have discovered that life in Berlin or Prague or Copenhagen is just as mayhem-filled as everyday family life. Only there are more late nights, strange foods, expectations, hungry humans, epic meltdowns (the kids have had a couple, too) and, in the middle of it all, my wife and I trying to equate this rather more expensive, busy and nerve-jangling form of travel with its spontaneous, distant relative of eighteen years ago. But, somehow, it kind of works.
It is sometimes a feat to carve out time to write but by the time I make it to the page or screen I am so excited to have peace, so filled with fragments of inspiration, that the words come more easily than the straining and wringing and procrastination that often goes on at home.
|Shakespeare & Co Bookshop|
Long-term family travel is pure madness, but everyday family / creative life is crazy anyway, so I figure you might as well be in Paris.