I won’t lie to you, the journey to Cornwall was pretty horrendous. It’s a long way and it felt longer still because the car DVD players had died a few weeks before and owing to financial strife they had yet to be replaced.
Now to all you prats who are thinking, ‘in my day we didn’t have TV’s in cars, we played games and spot the cow and eye spy.”. May I remind you in your day cracking a child up the jacksy was also socially acceptable as was a clip round the ear and a ruler across the palm. Hence why eye spy could sedate a car journey of children for hours as whinging, whining, fighting simply meant the car would screech to a halt on the hard shoulder and an arm would yank the offending child out the car, spank them on the arse and fasten them back in without a word being spoken.
The threat of the naughty step just doesn’t cut it on a long journey and the car isn’t big enough for a Jo Frost style elaborate reward chart.
Hence en route to cornwall I spent much of the journey thinking of ways to kill myself and trying to stop he who helped create them from killing himself.
Highlights including twin boy and twin girl re enacting female mud wrestling and BB cheering them on with a screech of anguish with every hair pull or knuckle rap.
The sugary sweets were a mistake, I see that now, Twin Girls energy levels rose to such extremity that even her eye sight became super sonic and she could apparently spot yellow cars several miles away. This in turn invoked more hair yanking from Twin Boy as his dislike of jelly sweets meant he didn’t share this advantage.
Driving through the country set off Twin Boy’s nose and one particularly violent sneeze left he who helped create them and the windscreen covered in snot. The upside of this being that I laughed till I cried when He who helped create them punched me in the arm in disgust.
The phrase; “are we nearly there yet” still haunts my dreams and I am not sure Twin Girl will ever forget me turning in my seat, face as red as a plum after she asked for the 4000th time, and screeching “we are fecking hours away girl, read the bloody sign.”
After that comment I silently folded the application for Tesco’s Mum of the Year and slid in back into my handbag to finish another time.
Can’t wait for the return trip…