Sunday, 3 August 2014

Center Parcs Sherwood Forest day 3

Activity: Double bubble! Archery and raft-building.

The "Robin Hood and Little John archery" activity is a win-win: Gerry gets to try archery and I get to play with a bow and arrow under the guise of 'helping' him. Make no mistake, even these beginner bows are lethal. LETHAL. And the satisfying "thunk" of aluminium death slamming into the prone chipboard target stirs a deep, primal longing that rises in every man when confronted by nature in its raw condition, an echo of some long-buried instinct DAD DAD IT'S GERRY'S TURN oh yeah sorry. Managed to hit a bullseye, result! The dad in the next booth had clearly been cheating by doing it before or something. Oh yeah and Gerry had a nice time too, I think.

Lunch at the "Pancake House" - had, um, pancakes. But pancakes with meat in! And it must be OK because it's not nasty British junk food, it's a Dutch company that runs it.

Checked Joseph and Michael in at the boathouse for the raft-building. Having discharged my duties by ensuring that both had donned the requisite wetsuit and safety helmet (building a raft is clearly more dangerous than I had anticipated) I nicked off quickly without looking back. I knew what would happen - leaving J and M together to engage in any competitive activity is likely to end in trouble; if they're on opposite teams them there will be competitive grief, if they're on the the same team then J will assist/instruct/criticise M, to his enormous irritation. Apparently the latter happened and M scowled throughout, Emma and I weren't present to endure it so fine.

Left J alone at the villa for 20 mins while I nipped to the shop. Of course when I got back found that he had fallen off his bike whilst indulging in a quick spot of stunt mountain biking in my absence: deep and bloody grazes on elbows and hands. Wonderful. I suppose I shouldn't be angry, after all he is only bloody fifteen for chrissake. Back to shop to get heavy duty plasters. Looks like the main free activity here, namely swimming sorry the Subtropical Swimming Paradise, is off limits for him until sufficient scabbing has occurred. Oh yeah and everything else at Center Parcs involves hanging from ropes, swinging racquets and other bloody-palm-prohibitive actions. I showed the appropriate level of fatherly concern before calling him a bloody idiot. Well this was at least 50% technically a fact.

Accident: 1 Arguments: 0 (Joseph insisted he hadn't been doing anything silly on the bike but there's no argument really)

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