Where are you spending New Year? Oh no, not in the UK? Surely not? Come on, be serious. Anyone in their right mind abandons ship after Christmas for some winter sun.
For several days between Christmas and New Year, the departures lounge at Heathrow Terminal 5 becomes busier than Daylesford HQ as families from neighbouring villages wave at one another and have loud and indiscrete conversations. ‘How funny to see you here! Where are you off to? Oh Lamu, heaven! We were there a couple of years ago, but thought we’d try somewhere different this year. Antigua, mmm. Yes, staying at Carlisle Bay! Oh, are they there too? We’ll look out for them. Darling! Darling, that’s us, they’re calling our gate. Hang on, I need to go to the Caviar House before we board.’
We’re not talking watery sun of the sort you find in certain parts of Europe at this time of year. Or about skiing. Skiing is a different kind of winter holiday to be discussed in another column (read: watch this space). No, we mean proper sun. Ideally quite close to the equator. This involves long-distance flights which will cost roughly a billion pounds, even if you shunt the children in Economy and you fly up front à la Kirstie Allsopp. But it’ll be worth it, won’t it, to escape the dark, dreariness of *insert your county* after Christmas.
Perhaps you’re off to a sunny patch of Africa? Lamu, as mentioned. Or Watamu on the Kenyan coast, or Lewa — where William proposed to Catherine — up country, for a spot of safari. Or maybe further south, to the winelands of Cape Town. You could be a swallow, one of the Brits who’s been jetting to South Africa for the winter for years. Islands are very popular. Think Sri Lanka, or Barbados (although Sandy Lane is terribly full of footballers these days), Harbour Island, Mustique, or the aforementioned Antigua. If you’re a television reality star, you may also be going to the Maldives or Dubai.
You could be staying in a hotel, but it’s grander to be in a villa with plenty of staff and a cook. There will be a row about who is in which bedroom. At least one person will get sick. Someone else will get violently sunburnt. A child will be stung by an exotic insect and cry for several hours. There'll be a splenetic row following a round of Monopoly Deal. There will be another row about the villa WiFi not working. Someone’s luggage will have been lost on the way out and they’ll spend the entire week on the phone to British Airways trying to locate it. They won’t locate it. There will be a final row about the villa’s enormous bar tab at the end, and how much to leave for tips. Lovely to get away from it all, though, isn’t it? Must do it again next year.
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