Warbling  my  way   through  another  song  in  the  car,  I  was  on  my  way  to   Center  Parcs  at  Longleat  for  the  family  holiday.  I’d  waited  for  what  seemed  like  years,  though  it  were  mere  months,  for  this  time  away.

As  with  most  holidays  the  time  flew,  and  regrettably  I  had  to  say  goodbye.

As  it  was  a  sporting  holiday  (yes  I  did  say  sporting),  I  came  home  thoroughly  bruised,  achy,  and  covered  in  oil  –  you  know  to  ease  my  joints.  I  may  not  be  a  good  dancer,  but  even  I  could  manage  the  robot  with  all  my  stiffness.

For  those  of  you  who  don’t  know,  cycling  is  considered   the  main  form  of  transportation,  besides  walking  and  the  land  train.   If  you  thought  you  were  healthy  before,  you’d  definitely  come  home  twice  as  fit.  The  vast  expanse  of  Center  Parcs  pushing  your  stamina  to  the  forefront.

I’m  terrible  at  cycling.   When  I  was  younger,  our  annual  trip  included  extra  family  members.  While  they  were  sorting  out  their  bike  rentals,  I  pedalled  outside  on  my  very  own  pink,  purple  and  white  bike.  As   clumsy  as  I  am,  I  did  indeed  fall  off,  landing  uncomfortably  on  my  arm.  That  was  the  first  hour  of  the  first  day  of  our  holidays.  Yes,  I  had  broken  it.

Fast  forward  a  good  10  years  or  so,  back  to  the  same  bike  rental   building.  I  decided  I  would  be  brave  and  rent  a  bike  for  the  week,  though  I  hadn’t  ridden  one  in  years.  I  cycled  from  the  shop  to  the  villa  and  that’s  where  it  stayed  the  entire  week.  I  couldn’t  believe  how  utterly  rubbish  I  was  at  it.

Two  years  on,  I  decided  this  time  that  I  wouldn’t  bother  with  the  hassle.   I  had  learnt  from  my  mistakes.  Though  my  father  and  brother  had  gotten  bikes,  I  resisted  the  urge.

After  much  cajoling  I  was  made  to  use  my  fathers’  bike  on  occasion.  A  saddle  sore  bottom,  scrapes  and  cuts  across  my  legs,  fixing  chains  more often  than  cycling,  and  a  generic  lack  of  enthusiasm,  I  realised  the  term  ‘It’s  just  like  riding  a  bike’  true  meaning.  It  wasn’t   so  easy  after  all.

Even  more   spectacularly  was  Adventure  Golf.  As  proud  as  I  am  to  boast  that  I  was  the  only  one  to  have  a  hole-in-one,  I  was  also  the  one  that  lost  drastically.  Go  figure.

My  favourite  sport  had  been  eating,  and I  regularly  exercised  my  stomach  muscles.  They  are  now  at   their  rotund  peak.  I  will  soon  be  ready  to  compete  at  Sumo  Wrestling.

Through  foraging  in  the  woods  with  my  newfound  navigational  skills,  splashing  and  getting  stuck  in  the  not-so-lazy  river  part  of  the  pool,  and  spending  quality  time  relaxing  and  editing  my  novel,  I  have  had  a  well-spent,  exhaustively-happy  holiday.

A  shame  it’s  back  to  reality  on  Monday.