I Ruined Three Family Holidays Before Finally Conceding Defeat

I sat at the pool beneath a cloudless Portuguese sky, watching my three children finish their ice lollies before jumping back into the water. My wife lay on the sun lounger beside me, topping up her tan, while I waited for my brother-in-law to arrive with his golf clubs for an afternoon at a golf course recently voted the best in Europe.

Our holidays haven’t been like this recently though.

Let me take you back a few years to where this story really began.

With three kids now big enough to require their own seat on a plane and an economy that has forced a packet of 5’s crisps— named as such because they cost 5p— to cost a whopping 35p, foreign holidays aren’t as easy as when there were just the two of us.

We had been looking at Portugal for our Summer holidays in 2023 but after a lot of negotiation, I somehow convinced Mary that a few days in Galway was a more sensible option. 

She wasn’t delighted with the decision but knew it was the sensible thing to do. I eased her concerns by reminding her that, if we get the weather, Galway is as beautiful as anywhere in the world. 

Did we get the weather? 

Of course we didn’t, we were in Galway. 

It lashed rain from the minute we arrived to the minute we left. On one of the rare occasions where we were able to leave the hotel, we walked the Salthill Promenade. The wind was so strong I had to hold the kids like they were winning lottery tickets, for fear they would get blown into the sea.

We spent the holiday doing as many indoor activities as possible but the weather made everything such a chore. I remember getting the kids an ice cream because you have to eat ice cream on holidays. They ate it, teeth chattering from the cold, under a cafe awning to hide from the rain.

As it turns out, the cost of the three ice creams in Galway could have paid for our return flights to Portugal but I digress.

We made it home from Galway, marriage still intact and chalked it off to bad timing.

Walking in the rain

Summer ‘24 was approaching and the Portugal seeds were being planted but again, I wasn’t convinced we could afford it. A Northern Ireland road trip was my suggestion this year and without much of a fight, Mary surprisingly relented. Time is a great healer and memories of the Galway trip the previous year were viewed through rose tinted glasses. We were going in August this time too which meant a much higher likelihood of good weather. 

Day one of Staycation number two was glorious weather and we arrived at the Giants causeway on the North Coast of Ireland bathed in a sea of sunshine. We had packed waterproof gear because we were in Ireland after all but something about this year felt different, the weather Gods were apologising for Galway ‘23 and paying us back in spades.

Or so I thought.

We didn’t get far from the car when I could feel the pressure change. 

“Looks like rain Ted” came a voice from behind us. A reference to an episode of Father Ted.

First I laughed, remembering the scene, then I saw what he was talking about. A bank of dark clouds, far off in the distance, but moving our direction. 

“It looks like we might have time to get down to the causeway and back before the shower” I announced, looking from my watch, to the clouds, and back to my watch, as if I had any idea how much time we actually had.

It took five minutes to walk from the carpark to the causeway and by that time the clouds had completely enveloped us. Mary scrambled our waterproofs from the bottom of the stroller just in time to get the kids covered before the torrential downpour began. 

Attempting to take shelter at the Giant’s Causeway

As quickly as it started, it passed and the sun came back out. By that time though, we were all drenched, our picnic was soggy and the stroller had gotten so wet we couldn’t put the child back into it. The rocks on the causeway had become so slippy we couldn’t let the kids on them so we had to admit defeat.

We got three dry days out of seven on that trip which, while better than Galway, was a hit rate I knew Mary wouldn’t accept the following year.

I didn’t say it out loud but I knew it would have to be Portugal in 2025.

By the time Summer 2025 came around we had started work on building our new house. I found myself wishing I was as poor as I thought I was in 2024 because now, I really was broke! Every spare pound we had, and then some, was being pumped into the house.

Summer holidays were cancelled for this year for the greater good.

Thankfully, and very kindly, a good friend offered us free accommodation for a few days in Donegal. Despite the trauma from the previous two Irish holidays, this was an opportunity for a break away from the stress of the build that we couldn't turn down. 

We packed our bags and headed North West for our third staycation in a row.

Third time is a charm, right?

Wrong!

Three days in Donegal and we didn’t get so much as a glimpse of the Sun. 

The Wednesday of the trip was forecast to be overcast, but not much rain, so we took a road trip to Fanad lighthouse. The clouds overhead looked ominous but we chose to work off the information from a weather app on my phone, rather than looking at the thick black clouds we could see with our own literal eyes. 

Unsurprisingly, the weather we could see in front of us was more accurate than the weather my phone predicted and the black clouds burst with a downpour so heavy it actually hurt. 

The noise of the raindrops exploding on the ground and the crashing of the waves into the cliffs made me appreciate (and concede defeat to) the immense power of Mother Nature.

As we ran for cover, the kids thought it was hilarious but I knew that no matter the circumstance next year, we all needed a holiday in the Sunshine. 

The aftermath of the Fanad shower. The girls still love this memory.

Despite being behind schedule and significantly over budget in the house build, Quinta do Lago in Portugal got the nod for 2026. As Mary had been reminding me for three years, the sun always shines in Portugal. 

I don’t recall seeing a cloud for the entire week we were there, let alone rain, although we did unwittingly keep up the recurring tradition of getting soaked on holiday. We took a speed boat trip out to the caves off the southern Portugal coast. The trip out was very relaxing but on the homeward leg I guess the captain was making up for lost time and he went full throttle the whole way. Every wave he crashed over threw oceans of water over us all and despite being scorching hot without a cloud in the sky, we got off the boat in Villamoura soaked to the skin.  It was mighty fun though

.

_{I have no idea where my 4 year old learned the word traumatising!}

It always surprises me the parts of a holiday the kids will remember. All of the stories mentioned above I only remember because the kids talk about them so often.

Mary and I remember the Galway trip as the holiday where it rained the entire time but the kids still talk and laugh about the time we were nearly blown into the sea. 

We remember the Giant’s Causeway being ruined by the rain but the kids still laugh about the rock I chose to take shelter behind which provided absolutely no shelter whatsoever.

We remember the inside of the car getting soaking wet at Fanad Lighthouse but the kids laugh about us running for our lives.

It’s easy to look back now and say we remember it more fondly than it might have been in the moment but the reality is, those were the things they remembered. We all work hard trying to fill our kids childhoods with wonderful memories but no matter how far you travel or how much money you spend, they will remember the time spent together as a family, whether that time is spent in the baking sunshine of Portugal or running for your lives from a storm in Donegal.

That being said, I don’t think I’ll get away with another Irish holiday next year!