In Octobre of 2013, we went on a weekend with my mother’s family. This means: two grandparents (both 75), three siblings plus other halves (my parents, my uncle and his wife and my aunt, all in their forties) and 10 grandchildren plus one other half (all between het age of 24 and 7). This was in honour of my grandparents’ 75th birthday and 50th wedding anniversary.
We arrived safely, more or less on time and soaking wet. Two out of three isn’t that bad, right?
The departure from Antwerp was chaotic in the best of our family’s tradition: the men (except my brother) arrived late and not ready for departure just yet (bathroom breaks and clothes-changes had to be taken and made). We left five minutes too late and went straight into heavy traffic and the afeared traffic jams. In the meanwhile, the GPS of my parents wasn’t working properly (or rather, very optimistically) and our own GPS was called into service. Did you know we can enter coordinates into that tiny thing? We do now!
In the end, we arrived with two minutes to spare in Calais (don’t ask me how, I refused to watch the speedometre) and rushed on the train. We met up (on that same train) with my uncle, who was a couple of cars ahead of us (and who’d missed his own train) and had a cozy chat-up for half an hour. Then it was off the train again and into England we went. But that rain… Really, we needed a boat at some points of the trip. But we arrived safely due to the driving skills of my fabulous mother and had our first look at the house (and cottage) we would spend the weekend in. Let me just say: wow. Big wow.
We went in, ate spaghetti, said hi to everyone and divided the rooms between everyone. Everyone ended up with at least a bed, if possible a bathroom and much sleep was had by all. Cheers!