We're all goin' on a summer holiday
Sun, sea and suspicious ringtones
Last week I talked about nostalgia for summers gone by, particularly as a child. I’ve been giving them more thought. Perhaps because weather has been holding up alright too - take that, St Swithin. It’s been years since me and all my siblings went on holiday together. We’ve been on trips with each other, but not all four of us for a long time. Summers as children were spent engrossed in magic and play. Memories of them vivid in my mind.
My brother and my sisters’ birthdays are in June and July so often we ended up on holiday over their birthdays. There’s a family video we’ve rewatched countless times of my sisters blowing out candles on maybe their 3rd or 4th birthday, everyone shouting “pooey!” at the smell of the smoke lingering after. Everyone falling into fits of giggles. Then my Mum relighting the candles and repeating the process over and over.
I’d always be the first to put my hand up ready to go on stage during the kids entertainment shows. As a child whose dream was to become an actress when she grew up I like to think I was putting wheels in motion. One time we all won Planet of The Apes backpacks for a dancing competition. Must have been in 2001 when the film was released and I would have been 5. Of course sometimes it’s the parents who get involved. I remember my Dad being picked from the audience, his arms and legs tied to this circular prop while a man threw knives at the balloons strategically placed around him. We were all quite young at the time and I think we actually cried instead of seeing the funny or entertaining side.
One holiday oversaw the very the devastating loss of my Mary-Kate and Ashley dolls. It will be something I ruminate over forever. I loved them. I mourned for them. They both came with little trunks to store outfit changes and hair accessories. I left a drawstring bag in our room after my Dad’s final sweep of the place before we left. I pleaded with my mum to contact the management in hopes of getting them back. The dolls were never returned. Looking back now maybe she never reached out and spared me the truth. At 28 I can reason with her not wanting to spend her time in correspondence over the loss of some dolls.
I remember in the Isle of Wight we went to Shanklin Chine. I was mesmorised by the small oasis, especially the waterfall. In the gift shop, I bought a pear shaped paperweight that had a pink swirl pattern suspended in its centre. I always wanted a paper weight of my own. I didn’t have any papers, I was maybe 9. But my grandma had one (and still does) that I was always fascinated by. Her one was dome shaped and almost black in colour. It has wisps that looked like clouds and smaller grey-white shere shape in the middle that to me looked like the moon.
When we went to spain, I feel like most days were spent at the beach. We bought foam bodyboards and ran head first into the waves. There wasn’t a single thought spared for the power of the sea, only for the fun that was to be had. We emerged tan skinned and salt licked. Ravenous from our exertion, we’d find somewhere to recharge along the promenade and quickly became obsessed with eating roast potatoes and allioli. We met a man who had a Christmas song as the ringtone on his phone. My Mum asked him why and he replied, “I wanted to be different, everyone has it Christmas”.
I’ve turned to TV for your offcut this week. Presumed Innocent starring Jake Gyllenhaal has finally concluded. The show is based on a book of the same name by Scott Turow written in 1987. A film was already made of the film back in 1990 in which Harrison Ford played the main character Rusty. It was a huge box office success and became one of the highest-grossing films of the time.
The Guardian gave the show a 3 out of 5 stars (not sure if I have ever seen a 5 out of 5 rating from these hard taskmasters) but I would agree with the opinion that female characters would have been better developed. Although, there are differences between the book itself and the film adaptation from 34 years ago. With two waves of feminism and the #MeToo movement during intervening years tweaks and changes most definitely needed to be made, including the treatment of murdered Carolyn Polhemus, upon which the plot centres around, receiving a less victim-shaming treatment this time around. One small step for man, giant leaps left for mankind still to go.
I’ve seen a very sizable chunk of thriller TV shows and did enjoy the watch. My suspicions over ‘whodunnit’ changed throughout and the reveal didn’t disappoint.