In reality, of course, it was none of those. It was a week at Center Parcs (an unashamedly middle class wooded Butlins for those who haven't been), a week where we rushed around after the children more than we do at home. A week after which I feel exhausted.
Don't get me wrong though, I love Center Parcs, with all its faux alpine cottages and road trains. It does feel like you're on another planet. Indeed, you'd almost expect to bump into an Ewok clan as you chase your offspring through the trees.
However, there's one element of Center Parcs life that all parents loathe, a daily ritual that sends blood pressure soaring; the pre and post swim multi-child cubicle change.
Like trying to nail jelly to the wall, drying and dressing an infant and a toddler, while yourself slowly catching pneumonia as you remain in wet trunks until the bitter end, is a seemingly impossible task.
And so it was last week, sometimes twice a day, that my wife and I squeezed into a tiny cubicle with children, bags, towels and locker coins (that instantly rolled under the door or down the drain), attempting to undress or dress two human jellies who, pre swim, were too excited to stay still and, post swim, too tired to stay still.
Believe you me, you have no idea how good a glass of wine in the evening tastes until you've done the Center Parcs pool!
Roll on next year.
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