Did Belgium become our best family trip? Here’s 5 reasons why

As I reflect on that question in the moment, I fully know it can’t be answered. Only after, when the reminiscing and familiar nostalgia set in, usually when trawling back through photos.

What is occurring to me most as I write by this Belgian poolside resort is the drive down.

In the midst of hot, fantastic sunshine, the long stints down French autoroutes always leave me smiling the most. Smiles brought on by the quietness and open views of beautiful French green scenery that seem to span for miles.

By quiet, I mean my two girls who are in the back of the camper, quietly entertained by a film and not asking questions.

My reliable co‑captain wife siesta-ing. Credit where it’s due I am always provided a warning before said power nap, as every co‑captain should. “Jack, you’re on this road now for another 30 miles. You’re not coming off, repeat you’re not coming off.”

So while I await the Belgian nostalgia to kick in months from now, I’ll attempt to fight for five reasons why it’s been the best holiday.

1. Seat diving and underwater swims

Our eldest (aged 5) cracked swimming. I mean, the girl seriously levelled up her pool game in so many ways. We saw cannonballs without the aid of floaties, and seat dives with head under water two-meter swims.

We created a new pool game that involves a rubber ring on my head. I embrace the role of a middle‑aged Mexican innocently walking down the road, only for a gust of wind to catch the poor man’s sombrero and hoist it into the pool.

At the point of gust, the eldest is already en route, ready to kamikaze from the side of the pool to rescue this embarrassed Mexican’s hat. But also saving herself from drowning if she were to miss the rubber ring altogether.

2. The watermelon gannet

There’s a photo on our lounge wall of our last France trip, with the youngest (aged 4) eloquently sprawled out on her front on the apartment’s wooden decking with a slice of watermelon in hand and red remnants covering her face, like a crazed animal on a carcass. This should have reminded me that, to no surprise, the girl is a watermelon gannet.

Whether that itself justifies the best holiday, or more a proud parenting moment of how well the girls can eat, I’m not sure.

Building a huge appetite from the morning’s pool antics, back at the campsite it’s lovely to watch them tuck into a mix of cured meat, French bread, and as much fruit as they can get their paws on.

They’re in for a treat the day they can wash it all down with a cold Belgian beer.

3. A new campervan sleeping arrangement

Honestly, this could very selfishly be the winner. The difference a bedroom pod made in our side awning.

It meant we didn’t need to put out the rock‑and‑roll bed. Nobody else had use for the downstairs berth of the van, so I claimed the territory as my own.

My temporary man cave hosted a book, speaker, chargers and a suitcase.

I would welcome the occasional five to ten minutes to change from pool attire to evening outfit, setting up playlists for the evening campsite wind‑downs and wine. But perhaps most satisfyingly, 30 minutes of uninterrupted reading time in the morning.

4. Sustained swimming pool dad energy

The dad energy vampire must have visited me in my sleep on night four, but I’ll take it when comparing to our previous pool holidays.

I had nothing to give on the final day and spent what parent lifeguarding duties I had weightlessly, floating on my front on one of the kids’ rubber rings.

Occasionally, as I drifted to the edge, the eldest would push me back out to the centre towards a cannonball frenzy of Swedish holiday‑goers.

On a positive note, the three days prior I seemed to have a miraculous amount of dad pool game. Which I’m sure you’ve established through my Mexican escapade.

My agility however, isn’t what it used to be. So I left the front somersaults to the eldest and watched on with mixed feelings of pride and jealousy.

5. I got to read and write more than ever

Well, this blog wouldn’t have existed if it wasn’t true. But kudos to my wonderful wife for her share of lifeguarding responsibilities.

The tactic was simple. Give my wife as much downtime to sunbathe, kid‑free, at the start of the holiday. She hinted at it enough times before we came, but it worked…It worked.

I intend to make a reading habit for future holidays immersed in non‑fiction narratives. It’s a welcome break from philosophy, self‑development and business books, and it stopped my careless brain drifting back into work mode.

My book of choice: Hops and Glory: One Man’s Search for the Beer That Built the British Empire. A book I had permanently borrowed from a holiday home in Lyme Regis.

A comical travel narrative of one man’s journey with a keg of beer from Britain to India, to recreate the historical IPA journey and taste it as its ancestry would have — the IPAs of circa 300 years ago. It was all the influence I needed to enjoy the poolside Belgian beer on draft.

To the small things that make a holiday big

Will this be the best holiday? As I started, only time will tell. But I had a whale of a time.

So here’s to the excitement and pride of learning to swim as a child. To watermelon and cured meat lunches. To a very honest co‑captain and Belgian beer tasting buddy. And of course the discovery of a new man cave.