When I went to school in the 1960s school trips were simple affairs with a visit to nearby Stratford upon Avon and possibly a coach trip to London to go to the museums. Thirty years later when my own children were going to school trips were much more interesting with more adventurous and stimulating itineraries sometimes including overseas travel. My daughter Sally loved these school holidays and I was always paying for one trip or another and she would leave home full of enthusiasm.
Jonathan on the other hand was not nearly so keen and I remember him going away only once. This was in 1998 in the final year of Junior School when he was eleven years old. For the top class there was always a few days away on the Isle of Wight. Sally had gone two years earlier and now it was Jonathan’s turn. He didn’t really want to go and had no enthusiasm for the affair but we packed him off and patiently waited for the postman to deliver to us the letter that told us what a brilliantly good time he was having.
Imagine how guilty we felt when this letter popped through the post: