Carol’s Column

We're all going on a cosy holiday

THERE IS nothing like going on holiday to turn you from a sane, orderly person into a potential inmate of the Betty Ford Foundation for Drug and Alcohol Abuse.

"What this family needs," said my financial asset as we sat quietly on the stoep enjoying a late afternoon drink and watching the dogs systematically destroying our newly planted beds, "is a holiday."

I nodded vigorously, dislocating my left shoulder blade and causing a spasm in my kidneys.

"We need to escape."

I instantly had a vision of myself on a red and white striped chaise longue being waited upon by seven white-coated, smiling major domos, all tripping over themselves to answer my every whim.

"Yes," said my spouse, sipping his beer and swatting the Parktown prawns that casually trotted across the patio. "What we need is a week in the bush."

My heart dropped to my kneecaps.

"Can't we do something else," I asked tentatively, "like take a luxury cruise or visit the Far East or even escape to Durbs?"

"Durbs?" His eyes lit up. And then: "Why don't we go to the South Coast?" he said.

"To a schmaltzy, 5-star hotel," I murmured. Oh roll on white-coated waiters and long, iced drinks.

It is not easy to make a decision in this family.

"I'm going camping with Simon, Graham and Jason," said Jamie. "We'll bus to Durban then hitch down the South Coast. We want to do our own thing. You won't see us this holiday."

"Over my dead body," I said firmly.

Which is why my 16-year-old son is presently camping somewhere along the South Coast with his friends.

"Why don't we go down to the Transkei," suggested my daughter. "We can camp at Coffee Bay or stay at the Wild Coast Sun." She shook her newly cropped mane. "Yes, Mandy and I would like to stay at the Wild Coast Sun."

"Mandy?"

"Ma, Mandy Goldstein's coming on holiday with us. I knew you wouldn't want me to be all alone so I asked her to come along."

Welcome Mandy Goldstein.

I started phoning — up and down the South Coast. The only accommodation I could get was a hotel room with a fold-down couch bed for the girls.

"That's fine," said my husband.

"That's not fine," I replied. "What would Mandy Goldstein's mother say if she knew her daughter was going to be watching you prancing around starkers in the morning?"

There was a timeshare unit at Margate which sounded superb until I asked how much it was. "Good heavens, I don't want to buy the unit, I just want to rent it," I gasped into the phone.

"Modom," said a rather snooty voice, "that is the rental price."

Eventually we decided on the hotel room. Then yesterday afternoon Jamie phoned from St Michael's on Sea. "Ma, we're having a great time. We hitched to the Wild Coast Sun and won R50 on the machines. Then we lost R55 split between four of us so we're R5 down. It's been raining since we got here, the tent's smelly but it's okay.

"We're running out of money for food and someone stole my jeans but we're having a great time. When are you coming down?"

"On Sunday. We'll be arriving on Sunday."

"Ma, we'll probably come and sleep with you for a bit."

"How bit?"

"A week."

Tomorrow we leave for the South Coast and a single hotel room in which we will put ourselves, our daughter, Mandy Goldstein and the four boys.

I can't wait.

There is a well-known expression.

Familiarity breeds.

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