Writing for life

La Beule is a long established seaside resort on the Atlantic coast of France. It has an incredibly long beach (9 km somebody told me – I took their word for it) lined with multi-storey apartment blocks and hotels with the odd casino thrown in for good measure. Like most anything that sits on the edge of the Atlantic for any length of time, these buildings looked shabby and in need of maintenance.

It reminded me of the North Wales seaside towns of my youth – perhaps a little more affluent. What reminded me of North Wales even more was the weather. It was raining, billowing black clouds rolling in behind massive breakers. The rain didn’t stop the kite surfers though, they were leaping about in the surf with abandon, carried on massive jumps by the gale force winds.

Between squalls we perched on a bench on the seafront sharing out the bounty we’d picked up a little earlier at the supermarket. Bread, pâté, cheese, salami and sundry other things the French are rightly famous for. It was wonderful fare, I have to say, and the children were in good spirits despite the inclement weather.

It had been raining since we’d arrived in France two days earlier, and after a couple of soggy nights camping we were waiting to meet my wife’s sister and her family. They live in Tours, about two and a half hours drive inland up the Loire valley, and have a holiday home in La Beule. It doesn’t take long for camping in the rain to dampen your spirits, and I for one was looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed again.

Waiting isn’t something the children are fond of at the best of times. In the rain it can be pure torture, and in the rain abroad after a long drive and two nights of camping it’s even worse. I finally relented and put a DVD on the laptop for them. For a while peace reigned while we suffered through the world’s worst ever animated version of Cinderella. It had come free with one of the Sunday papers, and I’d thrown it in the bag “for emergency use only”. This was an emergency.
The following day dawned bright and blustery. It was a massive improvement on the day before, and after some good French food, ample quantities of wine and a good night’s sleep in a real bed, was reflected by my mood. The girls were all happy too, which helps, and were playing with their French cousins.

It’s amazing how children can find ways to communicate that transcend language. As adults we skirt nervously around the issue – too afraid of making fools of ourselves to order a coffee or ask directions. Children just get on with it and communicate – they don’t understand the words, but there seems to be a built in ability to accept and comprehend that we lose as we grow up.

I’m hopeless at it. French I mean. Probably because I have my wife to fall back on. In France, and later in the trip when we reach Spain, I’ll definitely be letting her do all the talking. She’s better at it than me, even in English – she has more practice – and when it comes to other languages she wins hands down.

I guess it’s lazy – but then, I’m on holiday. At least that’s what I keep telling myself as I sit behind the wheel peering doggedly through the windscreen as the wipers struggle to shift the volume of water that’s pelting it. In the back the kids are starting to fight again. Not to worry, it’s almost time to find another camp site. Then we get to put the tent up in the pouring rain again. Yippee!

Technorati Tags: Travel, parenting, children, France, column

No Comments »

I could have sworn the light was green.

Whether it was the way the sunlight was glinting off the traffic-lights, or just an odd reflection on the lens of my sunglasses, I took off while the light was still red. The garda on the motorbike who was approaching from the other direction was not amused.

I pulled the car over and got out. Naturally I was very apologetic for my error. I explained that I’d been convinced the green arrow was illuminated, and that it was one of those freakish tricks of the light that happen occasionally.
 
Stony faced, the garda asked to see my license. As I fished around in the glove compartment for it I saw him give our car the once over. It was packed to the rafters with stuff. Three little faces peered out from among our mountain of belongings, wondering what the Garda was talking to their Daddy about.

We were passing through Waterford, on the way to Rosslare to catch the ferry to Cherbourg on the first leg of our camping trip to France and Spain. This wasn’t a particularly auspicious start, and we were already behind schedule.
The garda scanned my license with a critical eye. It still had our old Douglas address on it. We moved more than four years ago now, but somehow changing the address on your license is one of those things you just never get around to doing. That worked in my favour now.

The garda must have been stationed in Douglas at some point, or had some other Douglas connections, because he told me to watch the lights a bit more closely in future, and said that as I lived in Douglas I could go on my way. I couldn’t believe my luck.

Crisis averted, we set off again, and made the ferry terminal with minutes to spare. After a short wait we rolled aboard. Travelling by ferry was nothing new to the girls – we do it relatively frequently when we visit my family in Wales. What was different about this time was that we’d be sleeping on board.

When we got to to our cabin I was pleasantly surprised. I’d been expecting a cramped, uncomfortable box. Instead there were four reasonably sized bunks, with more than enough space for all of us to move around comfortably. There was a functional en-suite with toilet, washbasin and shower, and, best of all, there was a window letting in plenty of light. The décor was a bit dated, but it was spotlessly clean, and more than adequate for our needs.

Facilities on the boat itself were limited – we’d opted to travel with Celtic Link, which is primarily freight company, but that also takes passengers. The usual children’s play area and shops were absent, but the lounge was comfortable, and we had plenty of colouring books and activities with us to keep the munchkins occupied. As a backup I’d also brought along a selection of children’s DVDs to play on the laptop.

All of our meals were included in the price of the ferry too – dinner on the evening of departure, and breakfast and lunch the following day. The food, like the cabin, was much better than I expected it to be, and there was plenty of it. There was also free tea, coffee and water available for the duration of the voyage, and a bar selling drinks at normal prices, as opposed to the inflated rates you’d expect to pay on a ferry.

The verdict from the children was unanimous: this was “the best ferry ever”. Based on our crossing I’d have say that I’m inclined to agree with them.

Technorati Tags: Ferry travel, children, parenting

No Comments »

“That’s Mucdomulds…” said the little one, pointing enthusiastically at the shiny yellow M (“golden arches” sounds better, of course, but all the ones I’ve laid eyes on have most definitely been Ms, in a particularly lurid shade of yellow).

This particular yellow M was set into the lovingly restored  wall of an old mill building somewhere in the Midlands. The RTE programme “Nationwide” was lauding the regeneration of yet another town centre: an admirable feat, certainly – but there, looming large on the façade of the old mill building (now a shopping centre and market) was the yellow M.
 
I was taken aback. Not by seeing it of course – that yellow M has become an almost ubiquitous symbol in today’s high octane, consumer driven society. No, what shocked me was the fact that my three-year-old recognised the brand so readily. She’s been into a fast food “restaurant” (and I use the term in its loosest possible form) three, maybe four times since she was born. How did she know about the yellow M?

It was a shocking reminder of the power of branding – and the influence the big multinationals are exerting, not just on adults, but, worryingly, on children… even the little ones. One thing’s for sure, when it comes to the branding war the multinationals are winning.

We have Tesco Club Cards and Dunnes Stores Value Club cards – a throwback to our days of city living and being able to choose where to shop. Inevitably we get the regular branded mail-shots from both companies.

The twins collect the post every day. It’s become one of their “jobs”. When one mailer arrives they run up shouting: “Dad you’ve got a letter from Tesco.” ; when the other arrives they simply hand over the envelope and ask what it is. We don’t shop in either of the supermarkets concerned regularly any more – but when we do we’d use Dunnes more than Tesco because there’s one relatively nearby. And yet the twins recognise the multinational brand ahead of the Irish one.

The power of branding never ceases to surprise me. There’s something about the right choice of colours and symbols in a logo, the memorable wordplay of an effective tag-line, that seems to short-circuit the rational part of the brain. Brands are hard-coded into our psyche. Much of our brand awareness – and therefore our consumer choice – is influenced on a completely subconscious level. Unless we actively stop to think about it (and how many of us have time to do that?) we have very little to do with the process at all.

That’s all very well for adults – its up to us to make ourselves aware of the power of branding and the impact it can have on the decisions we make. If we choose not to, or decide we don’t care, that’s fine. But for children it’s different.
Children – the young ones at least – absorb the world around them without questioning it. It’s sort of like learning by osmosis, and it’s incredibly effective – but it’s that sort of subliminal absorption of knowledge that big brands thrive on. Of course the big multinationals claim they’re not targeting children.
 
For some that may be true, for others it patently isn’t, but regardless of whether they specifically target children or not, the results are self evident. What the big brands are actually doing is grooming the consumers of tomorrow to subconsciously express a preference for their particular products and services. I don’t know about you… but on a very basic level I think that kind of manipulation is just plain wrong.

Technorati Tags: brand awareness, children, parenting, column

No Comments »

Apologies for sluggish posting. We’re on a family camping trip in France and Spain and during my sporadic bouts of online access I’m mainly researching and sending in my regular articles. Blog posts are slightly lower on the priority list but I’ll try to keep them coming a bit more regularly between now and when we get back.

All the best,

Calvin!

No Comments »