Phil Hogan wonders what on earth happened to the good old-fashioned family outing...
Ping! Ping!Ping! Tooosh! Tooosh! Tooosh!
"Come on, boys – sun’s shining. Lovely outside...Bit of fresh air? Eh? Guys? "
"Mmmm.... sounds a bit boring, Dad."
They’re in the bedroom with the curtains shut. The four of them, sprawled in
front of the Nintendo playing Evil Zombie Demolition Death Derby 2.
What happened to family outings? It doesn’t seem that long ago we’d all go off
somewhere with a modest packed lunch and the baby’s buggy and nappies and Wet
Ones and changing mat and non-spill cup... team of huskies.
But now... If you want to unplug the kids for five minutes it has to be for
something financially ruinous, preferably something with lasers or virtual
reality, or somewhere with rides that turn you upside down and shake all the
money out of your pockets.
When we were kids, an outing was a rare holiday treat. Dad would cram the six of us into the Hillman Minx and off we’d go to Morecambe to see the mud. Fantastic. Stopping for a picnic in a layby next to a field of electricity pylons, fishpaste sandwiches washed down with a plastic beaker of Tizer. We didn’t complain when it started hailing on the beach. We’d just run
back to the car for a flask of warming Bovril and a rousing chorus of Sloop John
B by the Beach Boys. But we loved it…
Oh well. Maybe going out is a bit old hat ...
