This post was written by Savia, aged 14, who entered our Young Persons’ Writing Competition 2020.
My dream holiday. I would like to go to Bath to see the Roman Baths. To see the intricately designed buildings, to eat ice cream whilst winding through its roads. But most of all I would love to go with my Dad, to hear him talking all about the history of Bath, to hear him ask cheerily “What flavour ice cream do you want?”
To see his eyes light up as he explains to me all about the Roman Baths. But that is impossible because he is ill, trapped in his house fighting to survive. But this is my dream holiday. I want to go to Bath with my Dad to see him in his element, exploring, uncovering the truth, learning the few things he does not already know.
After a weekend discovering Bath we would drive to Sheffield my Dad’s home-ground. To see where he grew up. To admire the mountainous hills that look so peaceful yet impenetrable. The breath of the countryside engulfing us, with the sun hitting our backs and the breeze tousling our hair. Imagining my Dad those many years before right where we would be standing. Playing in a park, running around wearing shorts too long for him, mud on his knees, needing a haircut but with the same glimmer of excitement in his eyes, the yearning to learn.
We would then spend the next two days in a cosy Air B’n’B, both of us proudly holding a slowly shrinking magnum ice cream, whilst planning our picnic for the next day. Sunny in Sheffield with lows of 25 degrees and highs of 30, perfect for a picnic.
The next day, I would prepare our jam sandwiches, crisps, and strawberries. We would sit in long grass tickling my bare legs, and we would run around playing cricket. The final day we would go to the Harry Potter studios which was once an aerodrome where my Dad and his friends played. The magic of the studios exciting me like a baby walking for the first time, in my own little bubble amazed by it all. The sun still shining on us as we would walk back to the car, discussing the best parts of the trip with our shadows mimicking us. Finally, in the car we would blast the best songs as we drive home. That would be my dream trip, a trip with my Dad.