The Caravilla Experience

So where was I? Oh yes, we were just about to head to the caravilla for our inaugural trip. Just to put you in the picture, prior to that, I'd had the most head spinningly, busy week, so by the Saturday, (our proposed day of departure), I took one look at the driving rain, and another at all that needed to be done before we left, and descended swiftly into the blackest of moods.
In all honesty, at that moment, the only thing that would have pleased me, would have been waving the whole troop off, double bolting the doors behind them, and bedding down in blissful solitude with the remote, Hello magazine and lots of chocolate. (Did I mention I was PMTed as well?) As that was clearly 50 shades of pure fantasy, (without even the faintest whiff of Mr Grey), I grudgingly got stuck into the packing.
Much later, after final orders for the toilet, (When did you go last? Go and try anyway.), indulging in my usual OCD checking frenzies, (Did I lock the door/unplug my hairdryer/turn off the computer?), and somehow squeezing in that extra box of cereals, we were good to go. It may have been many hours after our ETD, but excitement was in the air and even the relentless rain didn't dampen spirits...(Nah,that came later!)

I would actually!

Hopes and expectations were high- I REALLY wanted it to be a good first week. I wanted to be able to  reassure each other, that spending all the money on the caravilla had been the right thing to do. 'Sure where would you get it? And isn't it fabulous? And aren't we lucky!' I suppose in the back of my mind, I knew that I was the weakest link. I knew that the kids would love it regardless, and that Loverboy had spent all his childhood summers in caravans, while I had only one horrendous experience to draw from, which had left lingering, unwanted doubts in my mind, as to whether I was cut out for it at all! I wanted very much to embrace it, but in order to do that, I had to just jump right in there for a good old stretch, and see how it went. Oh, I could talk the talk about caravillas till the cows came home, but could I walk the walk? And if I couldn't, would I learn to? Or just suck it up and get on with it? For years and years on end?
I'll be honest though, it was a tough start. It rained relentlessly for the first few days. This actually meant, that it had rained relentlessly every single time we'd been up so far, and when I read in the paper en route, that it was going to rain for for several decades at least, I felt a big knot in my stomach that definitely wasn't eager anticipation.
Don't get me wrong- one doesn't go to Donegal for the weather. I know this. And that suits me just fine, because I'm not a hot weather kinda gal. I'm blessed with a bluey, white complexion that prickles, freckles, swells and burns in the sun. Blessed, I tell you. But three days of driving rain was wearing thin, with all seven of us inside, and the TV not working properly yet.
I'd also made several glaring errors on my packing front, the most serious of which was overpacking excessively on the heels/jewellry/ floaty scarves front, and drastically under packing, in the sensible footwear/ knickers front. Under packing, as in none whatsoever... at all. What was I thinking!? An emergency knicker-buying trip to Letterkenny was immediately scheduled, but I still had to make do with my leopard print platform wedges as my only 'covered in' shoes.
Then to top it all off nicely, having been feeling rundown and generally exhausted for several days, the most grotesque monstrosity of a coldsore appeared on my lip, right in time for my birthday. It was the  icing on the cake, so to speak... Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, very gradually and hardly without my noticing,things began to improve. The rain stopped (mostly!), and we had a few beautiful days. (We actually needed sun cream, only I forgot it and the kids got roasted).

My new Wellibobs!

Little by little, I began to feel better, the kids made lots of friends, we walked the beach, barbequed and drank wine. I learned how to work the washing machines, we decided to put a deck on after all, my numerous sandals got worn and my mum and dad came to visit. Then his mum and dad came to visit, we ate 99s, I'd a lovely birthday lunch with friends, we started watching 'Game of Thrones', and I ordered wellibobs (thanks Johan!). I'd breakfast in bed, we ate enormous picnics, the kids went crabbing, we had a lunchdate alone, and then on our last night, we congratulated each other on buying the caravilla. 'Sure where would you get it? And isnt it fabulous? And aren't we lucky?'
 My goodness-It was such a relief to feel like that, and if truth be told, when it came to it, I didn't want to come home ...and now I can't wait to get up there again!  Note to self- next time though, I'll be ditching the wedges for wellibobs, and remembering to pack the knickers!