Disclaimer

This post may contain traces of sarcasm, mild exaggeration, and leftover holiday smugness. Any resemblance between the author and a functioning adult is purely coincidental. No Aldi trolleys, tennis balls, or board-game meeples were harmed in the making of this post. Side effects may include eye-rolling, spontaneous laughter, and the urge to check if you’ve accidentally booked an Inset Day off work.

So, the family holiday is officially over. It was nice. Peaceful. A temporary escape from the daily circus that is work, school runs, and “what’s for dinner?” debates.

Batteries re-charged, serenity levels briefly restored, and now we’re back to the familiar symphony of alarms, laundry, and lunchboxes.

We got back late Saturday afternoon. There was, of course, *no food* in the house. The fridge looked like the inside of a student flat — half a lemon, some ketchup, and something in Tupperware that might have once been lasagne.
So, off to Aldi we went — our nearest shop and the temple of “I only came for milk and somehow spent £60.” Cupboards replenished, fridge full again, crisis averted.

Sunday morning brought the *junior parkrun*. To be fair to our son, enthusiasm levels were low. The weather had been horrendous, and the course was destined to be a mud-bath with extra puddles. And yes, it was *exactly* that.
But, undeterred, 100 kids lined up for the weekly 2000-metre test of endurance, puddle-dodging, and parental patience.

We bumped into one of his classmates (and her older sister), and while they sprinted through the course, I had a chat with their mum — who casually mentioned that their school had *two inset days* coming up.

For those not fluent in the mysterious language of UK school calendars, an **Inset Day** (short for *In-Service Training Day*) is a magical day where teachers go to work, but children do not. Essentially, it’s a stealth holiday that parents only discover three days before it happens.

Anyway, this little nugget of information suddenly made sense of my wife’s earlier, slightly suspicious request for me to “book Tuesday off.” Normally, our son does breakfast and after-school club when we both work. But, of course, with *Inset Days*, logic doesn’t apply.

Parkrun done (new PB: 10:37 – cue modest parental pride), we went home for a shower, and then our son decided he wanted to play *pool*. Because why not?

So off we went to Hollywood Bowl after lunch. There, I attempted to teach him the “basics,” which, given his height and the complexity of billiards, mostly involved creative cue angles and the occasional near-miss at the table next door.

Later in the afternoon, I was off to **Eli’s in Langport**, a pub that runs a monthly **board game afternoon** (first Sunday of each month, 4–8 pm). Stephen, one of my fellow board-gaming regulars, kindly gave me a lift — fresh back from *SPIEL Essen*, the biggest board-game convention on Earth.

Stephen was “working” there for CGE (Czech Games Edition) — I use the quotation marks intentionally, as anyone who’s ever worked at a board-game convention knows that “work” usually involves an awful lot of “playing.”

He brought back **Wispwood**, a new CGE title he demoed there. I was keen to try it, and after the game, I can say it’s *different*, in a good way. I’ll hold off a proper review until I’ve played it a few more times (translation: until I can figure out how to win).

I also played **Mycelia**, a light deck-builder I’ve often seen at our Friday night sessions in the Holiday Inn. To my genuine surprise, I *won*. That alone makes it a great game in my book.

First up that afternoon, though, was **Axio** — an abstract gem from Dr Rainer Kniezia, one of the godfathers of modern game design. I came last. Horribly last. But still, I’d happily play again.

And that brings us to **Tuesday**: I’m off work; my wife isn’t. Our son’s currently having breakfast before a morning of tennis and an afternoon of martial arts (he skipped it yesterday).

Next up on the family sporting calendar: a **U9 tennis tournament in Bath** this weekend. My wife’s on weekend duty, so I’ll be in full tennis-dad mode again.

This one’s a **linked event**, meaning it’s a qualifying tournament for the national Grade 2 in Surrey later this year. Same setup as Taunton, same calibre of players, same slightly frazzled parents on the sidelines.

Let’s see how he gets on this time. Preferably with fewer puddles involved.