vent post incoming because I am not sure if I'm having a proportional reaction to this or not and throwing it out into the void might help...
My mum's side of the family is very Organised. Particularly my aunt, who is queen of the Itinerary, but this also comes from primarily my grandad (in his 80s but pretty fucking healthy & ex-navy). I love them to bits, they're the Most Sane extended family I have (father's side has all sorts of weird interfamilial politics going on (which I shan't get into but jfc) and my stepdad's family is very nice but also Very Religious.
Bearing this in mind, they have this tradition of these big family holidays around special occasions - these have been the only family holidays I've ever been on barring boating with just my father and grandma when I was a kid - and they are always like. A big affair. Domestic, not abroad, but it's always Rent A Big House in an Area for a Time and then have extremely itinerised activities and have lots of Family Fun (usually whilst me and my mum quietly seethe about it because my aunt has Money and we have historically been very poor, so it's always been more of a burden for us but we just have to suck it up and deal.)
Anyway, this was Tolerable when I was a kid or a teenager and, ya know, in school and living at home.
I am now a 26 year old adult with a Real Job that has a fucked up rota of unsociable hours, that I often don't get until weeks before I'm due to start shifts, and runs year-to-year on the academic year calendar August to August. I also live several hundred miles away from my family.
Last year, there was a Big Family Holiday planned months in advance that I told them from the outset I was unlikely to be able to attend, because the date of it fell on my rotational week from one speciality to another, on a completely different site, and I would either not be able to take leave during that week due to mandatory induction or simply not *want* to due to learning how a new job works. So I didn't go.
My grandad evidently missed me being there (and is feeling his age a bit) so wanted to do another Big Family Holiday this year. Which I was asked about via a message from my mum. Initial planned date was september time 2023 which I said, yo that's way too far ahead for me to even know if I'll have a training post or even know where in the damn country I'll be working - this year I'm taking a year out of training to work ad-hoc shifts and have a break from the Relentlessness of Covid Pandemic Medicine, so like, before August would be good! Because I'm choosing my own hours!
Okay, mum said, are there any dates that are a solid no for you right now?
Ah, I said. Not during the week of Glastonbury Festival. Because we're trying to get tickets this year as it might be my only chance to definitely go and it's my partner's favourite place in the whole world.
This was. All the input I had. In the planning of this family holiday.
I received confirmation a bit later (this was in september 2022) to say that IT'S BEEN BOOKED! Family Holiday is GO!
For EIGHT ENTIRE DAYS in early July, like literally five days after Glasto is done.
Okay, I say, pissed off that I didn't get any input in how fucking long this holiday was, or, crucially, where it was. I got sent a link to a holiday house that I had a skim through but didn't think more about it other than, fuck me, a bit rude not to include me in literally any other part of the planning.
Skip ahead to now - May 2023 - I have secured a training post in a nearby city starting in August, which is excellent news, but still means I have to move house.
So I sit down with my partner as we try and run logistics on getting packing materials and looking at leadtimes on renting, and looking at quotes on storage units and the like.
I get my calendar up and check dates and when things are going to be best planned.
And I realise I have this fucking 8 day chunk of July blacked out for this family holiday that I absolutely have to attend this year because my grandparents are getting old and it might be The Last Big Family Gathering before something happens to their health, right. And I missed the one last year, so I gotta be at this one, otherwise shame on me.
This 8 day chunk of July that's right smack bang in between Glasto and When We Need to Be Moving House.
And then I double check where the fuck in the country this holiday is supposed to be, again.
*Dartmouth*. It's in. Fucking Dartmouth. Which if you are unaware of the British Isles Geography is right in the southwest corner of the fucking country. And is approximately a 5.5 hour no stops drive away from where I live.
Readers, if you've gotten this far I need to tell you something. I don't yet have a driving licence. I'm in the process of doing lessons and have my test booked for the 20th June. Which is the day before we leave for glasto, right. So even if I pass my test first time (I might not, pass-rates are about 50% here), the only chance I will have to practice driving on motorways etc will be on the 4.5 hour drive to glasto, and then possibly on the way back.
Partner can and does drive, right, but probably can't come to Big Family Holiday because he'll either still be in work that week OR will be sorting the moving house stuff out in my absence.
So if I pass my driving test, I might have to do a 5.5hour solo drive cross country completely alone on big fucking motorways less than two weeks after passing my test. Not fucking ideal.
Alternatively, I could take the train. which costs (with a railcard) nearly £120 for a return and takes approximately EIGHT HOURS each way.
Other options would be to travel even earlier (still also via train, as it's also a 5 hour drive to where they live) to my parents and accompany them on the 4.5 hour drive from where they live to Holiday Destination, because my family decided to choose a place to go on holiday that is pretty much an equal distance from both of our locations but NOT IN A HELPFUL WAY. We'll still all have to travel the same fucking amount to the far corner of the damn cross country triangle between us.
Third option is to beg my friend who lives near glastonbury to let me stay with her or in her parent's house for the inbetween five days and then travel the 2 hours to Holiday Destination from there, but this isn't ideal because 1) I'd need to pack clothes for three weeks, 2) we only have one vehicle so how would partner get home, and 3) due to moving house I do actually need to be back at home in that inbetween time.
Anyway. I'm pissed off. Because I'm an adult with a job and none of the planning for this family holiday other than *avoid this one specific week* was done with any kind of consideration toward me. It feels like I'm still being treated as a child that can just Drop Everything and Attend an event I'm not even particularly thrilled to be going on (for eight entire fucking days) and if I don't or can't go I'm in the wrong.
