A June survey by the website Holiday Rentals found that half of young Britons were considering holidaying with their parents this year—evidence, the company claimed, for a new fad among cash-strapped young professionals: the Homad, or Holiday on Mum and Dad.
Recession or not, I've been Homading all my adult life. This summer I'll be decamping with my family, partner and about 70 distant cousins to the coast of North Carolina. And after consulting friends—especially those who've also opted for financially precarious professions like writing or standup comedy—I've found others who have been quietly Homading for years too.
For those less practiced in the art, here are the most important rules of engagement. Stick to them whether yours is a family of awkward silences or messy, aerobic brawls. Ignore them and you'll wish you'd stayed at home.
First, if your family is big (and I challenge you to beat 70 cousins) don't be shy about taking a package over the luxury chateau in rural France—unless you have a serious washing up and catering fetish. There's a time and a place for jumping off the beaten track. This isn't one of them. Your beautiful chateau will be much less beautiful after 14 days of toddler rampages.
Use either the "work-thing-I-can't get out of" or the "I have to sign on" excuse to rule out a joint flight, or even a joint airport trip. Alone time on the plane is vital for preparation, in my case for six straight hours on the interstate from Washington DC to North Carolina with my siblings, partner and I crushed into the backseat and my parents inflicting obscure 1970s soft rock.
Once you've arrived, make sure you have your own transport, be it car, scooter, bicycle or donkey. Any of these will help avoid your parents' planned daytrips. One friend recounts the agony of hers poring over each and every church and hilltop village—"a sweaty ordeal that had me grinding my teeth and tearing my hair out." Don't expect your parents to change their plans to suit you—it's their holiday.
Pick up the tab for dinner once in a while. Just because they've paid for your flights and accommodation doesn't mean you can act like a total freeloader. And when at dinner, drink tactically. The key here is that when they say "meet in the lobby at 7.30," get there by 6.45 and throw down a few before things kick off. Then, when the logistical squabbling starts, you're already a bit drunk and so no longer care.
If it's all going reasonably well, congratulations, but a word of warning: successful holidays have an uncanny way of relaxing parents so much that they may tell you things you'd really rather not know. Best to be on your guard. And if it's going badly don't—whatever you do—show it. You'll look like an ungrateful brat. I've found that sleeping constantly is a good way of avoiding this pitfall.
Final and most important tip: if it's a disaster and you all return needing a holiday, don't keep doing it. The recession won't last forever, don't let it claim your sanity. You'll be able to afford your own holiday next year and, if you really can't wait that long, take some sound advice from a friend who's an only child of divorced parents: plan a local holiday on a friend's floor.
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