Holidays, by their very nature, are times for relaxation, amusement and a complete change from the normal routine of life. Although often expensive, holidays are meant to be enjoyed and free from any problems and stress. People do not hold back financially and usually overstretch their budget for the sake of fun, to pay the price for the first few months on their return to Blighty.

The Brandon family own a busy chain of restaurants in the Nottingham area and the director of the franchise is Patrick Brandon. Patrick is married to Jane Brandon and they have three children; Suzie (12), George (14) and Jamie (8). Patrick is a ‘workaholic’ who often works a 60-hour week to ensure the smooth running of his business. Jane, a trained accountant, maintains the books and advises her husband on financial matters to great effect.

I first met Patrick and Jane when we made a booking for a Friday night at ‘Chez Maritz.’ The restaurant was highly recommended to me by a close friend and I decided that my girlfriend deserved a good night out, since we had argued furiously the previous week. We arrived on time and were shown to a cosy window table covered with white linen and expensive tableware. The tablecloth was so white that I felt nervous eating on such highly starched linen. We were shown the menu and offered a free glass of champagne on the house. Sophie and I started to relax as we sipped our drinks. It was going to be a pleasant evening.

A small, but perfectly proportion woman approached our table to take the order. She introduced herself as Jane Brandon and we soon realised that she was the proprietor’s wife.

"Good evening, would you like to order, sir? I can recommend the monkfish to start," inquired Jane Brandon whose notepad was poised ready for action.

"Sophie, dear? Would you like to try the monkfish or something else?" I questioned.

"I would prefer the avocado salad, please Tim," she replied. Jane took the rest of our order and brought the bottle of Chateau Neuf De Pape that I had requested. The first sip was sheer nectar to my palette and we settled once again to soak up the ambience of the pleasant but busy restaurant.

Sophie and I always like to take our time eating out and we were the last clients in the restaurant as midnight approached. We were enjoying our coffee and liqueurs. Jane Brandon did not rush us but approached our table and asked if she may join us. I stood up, pulled out the spare chair and she sat heavily upon its padded upholstery as though she was completely exhausted.

"Thank you for letting me sit with you," she retorted as she sipped her large brandy. Her blonde hair was swept up into a tidy bun and her face was lightly made up to enhance her natural attractiveness. "I don’t normally sit with clients but I thought I would make an exception tonight," she said.

"You look pretty exhausted to me," I commented.

She replied, "Yes, I am. You wouldn’t believe that we came back off holiday only yesterday!"

"Really?" commented Sophie, who was anxious to protect her lover from a possible, potential rival.

"We caught the Channel Tunnel train yesterday afternoon and got back home at 10.00pm."

"Did you go anywhere nice?" I asked politely, realising that she wanted to tell us more about her holiday.

"We rented a lovely farmhouse just outside Riberac in the Dordogne. It was lovely and we were all looking forward to a rest from our busy life in Nottingham. But things went wrong from the second day," she replied earnestly.

"What went wrong?" asked Sophie tactfully. Jane’s eyes started to fill with tears and we began to feel uncomfortable for the first time in the evening. Mrs Brandon buried her head in her hands.

"You really must have had a bad time. Do you want to tell us about it?" I asked sympathetically sipping my liqueur. Jane looked up and to our relief was laughing, which failed to offer an explanation for the previous tears.

"Look, it would take too long to tell you about the whole farrago. I suggest you take this and read it." Jane slid a small notebook towards me.

"What’s this?" I asked.

"My holiday diary. Please take it and read the contents. I can guarantee you’ll find it amusing. Just bring it back next Friday and have a meal on the house!"

I realised what she was up to. She had recognised me as the foremost literary agent in the country. She wanted me to publish her diary. I admired her pluck but almost wished that she had remained incognito for the evening. I responded politely,

"Thank you. I will read it with interest. Are you ready Sophie? We must be making a move." We stood and Jane fetched our coats.

"Make sure you read it now. Don’t forget, next Friday at 8.30pm," she requested. We left the restaurant and made our way home by taxi.

It was not until the Thursday afternoon that I came across Jane’s diary in my briefcase. I was waiting for my dental appointment at Mr Makeland’s surgery when I decided to read it quickly to pass the time and take my mind off the forthcoming, painful filling. I opened the leather cover and started to read.

We arrived at the farmhouse at 7.30pm after an exhausting drive. Suzie and George argued most of the way about their game boys and they were duly confiscated just outside Tours. They then started to tease Jamie until they were threatened with the early bread run to the local bakers.

Patrick seems tired but he won’t let me drive. He says that we wouldn’t get there if I drove. What’s wrong with keeping to the speed limits? He needs this rest and come to think of it, so do I!

As we pulled into the village Patrick announced that he had invited the Douglas family down for a few days. I asked him why and he replied with an inaudible grunt. I could not believe that he could have done such a thing. The Douglas family, although very good clients of the restaurant, are incredibly boring and the last thing I wanted was to share even one hour with them on holiday. We spend enough of the time listening to their tales of futility and boredom as they spend money in the restaurant. Why should we have to do this on holiday? I kept quiet and silently unpacked the car with the help of the reluctant George.

Suzie and Jamie quickly changed into their swimming costumes and jumped into the pool. We watched them relax with a glass of wine in our hands, enjoying the summer evening sunshine.

In bed Patrick started to get fresh. I soon put a stop to that, remembering his stupidity in inviting the Douglas family. He rolled over and slept noisily.

The children gave Patrick a hard time at breakfast. They even threatened to run away if the psychotic Douglas boys came to stay. We managed to distract them by offering a James Bond video and they settled in front of the TV whilst we got ready to receive our uninvited guests.

At 9.30am the all too familiar lime green Volvo estate pulled up outside the house. Fred Douglas got out and was wearing khaki shorts, white socks and sandals. How gross, I thought. Gladys Douglas squeezed herself out of the front seats, wearing another polyester catalogue floral number and the twins; Daniel and Wayne stripped off and ran into the pool without a hello or anything. Suzie and George climbed out of the pool in disgust and went in to watch TV. The invasion had started!

I became worried when three large suitcases emerged from the boot of the car but thought that they were just bringing them inside for safe keeping. I reassured myself that it would only be for one night and then we could get on with our holiday in peace.

At lunchtime the two families were discretely separated in different parts of the house. I was left with Gladys and Fred to enjoy the tale of their journey through France. I started to watch two rabbits copulating in the field to escape this boredom. Gladys then announced that she would cook lunch. A kind thought?

After much shouting I called the two families together for lunch. We sat on the terrace under the cover of the awning from the bright sunshine. The surroundings were perfect. The pasta was tasteless and the company poor. George complained of a stomachache and asked to leave the table. Patrick said that he had an urgent e-mail to send (he didn’t have his computer with him) and Jamie fainted on the table waking to jettison the contents of his stomach onto the fruit salad. All in all it was an unpleasant lunch. I retired to a sun lounger and put on my headphones. I fell asleep but was woken by two loungers being parked close to my own. Was there no rest from these people? I noticed that our car had gone and the family was nowhere to be seen. The bastards, they’ve gone to Leclerc without me!

I announced that I was going to have a lie down as I had a headache. Gladys walked me in and then sat on the edge of my bed rambling on about the price of fish. I finally got rid of her and started to relax in the warmth of the palatial bedroom.

I was woken by a sound. Daniel and Wayne Douglas were staring at me in the nude and both clutching their willies, as some young boys do. I was somewhat taken aback and suggested that they would like another swim. In the manner of Lizzie Borden they turned and left my room without saying a word. I heard the familiar splash of water and knew that I was safe for the next few minutes or so.

I woke and walked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Fred had made tea for his family and they were sitting at the table eating vast quantities of bread and jam. I noticed that Fred was wearing a pair of stretched blue Speedos and his pubic hair was spilling onto the chair in the most obscene manner. I couldn’t take my eyes off this but chose to empty the dishwasher instead.

Patrick and the children returned with numerous cardboard boxes full of provisions. I spent the next twenty minutes unpacking them into the tiny cupboards and American style fridge. Patrick then rearranged the meats and cheese when my back was turned. He really is a stickler for food hygiene!

The rest of the day past without event and we laid on a BBQ for the uninvited guests which they seemed to enjoy. There was a minor skirmish in the bedroom when the twins asked to sleep in George and Jamie’s room. I managed to bribe the boys with a new game boy cartridge.

It took quite a while for George and Jamie to go to sleep as the Douglas twins just stared at them in silence form the mattresses on the floor.

I was awoken buy a scream from upstairs. I rushed up to see Daniel and Wayne Douglas sitting on the end of George’s bed in their usual nude posture. As I entered the room they left in silence and jumped into the pool.

Patrick had got up early to attend to the pool. He enjoys this ritual and has the privilege of the first swim on his own. I went outside and saw Fred and Gladys sitting on the edge of the pool with the demonic twins splashing around in the water. Patrick was seething at the end of the pool ready to swim and I almost thought that he was going to hit the twins with his skimmer. However he managed to control himself.

We all had to wait for the Douglas family to finish swimming before we were allowed to swim in our own pool! Two little yellow streaks appeared as the twins climbed out of the pool and Patrick grabbed another chlorine block and a handful of ‘plus ph’ and threw them into the filter basket. He was not going to be beaten by the twin’s uric acid.

After breakfast we decided to go out as a family to the market in Riberac. We thought that this would give the Douglas’ plenty of time to pack and perhaps they would have left when we returned. We bought presents and had a lovely lunch in a bar. I felt as though our holiday had begun.

When we got back their Volvo estate was still parked in the gravel drive. We checked the boot and it was now completely empty. They appeared to have unpacked the full contents of their boot. When we entered the kitchen Gladys announced that she had rearranged the cupboards and fridge to make more space. Patrick visibly changed colour and went out the back of the house to cool down. George came downstairs and asked why there were two new beds in his room. Gladys said that she thought the boys would like to sleep together. I pushed George out of the room in a full arm lock before he could utter his protestations!

I moved my lounger to the other side of the pool and started to read my book. Two loungers then parked themselves adjacent to my new position. I was now getting angry at this intrusion of my privacy.

For the rest of the afternoon there was no indication that they were leaving. I caught Patrick and George plotting behind the house when I went to hang up the washing. I was somewhat annoyed to see the Douglas’ washing hanging on my line. I casually moved the collection of catalogue clothes further up the line risking static electricity shocks from the highly coloured man made fibres. Patrick was writing something down and George was nodding in approval. I decided not to get involved with the father and son thing.

Gladys announced that the kettle wasn’t working. Fred examined the appliance and concluded that the electricity had cut out. He examined the fuse box and then walked to his car. He came back with a toolbox and spent the next twenty minutes fiddling in the electrical cupboard in our bedroom.

The lights came back on and he announced that there was no fuse wire in the ring main circuit. I noticed George and Patrick looking very shifty and concluded that they had failed in their first attempt to get rid of the uninvited guests. They retired to the patio to devise another plot.

Before supper Suzie decided that she was going to make some Chocolate biscuit fingers. As a family we avoid them like the plague but these humble chocolate laxatives might create some movement of the ‘uninvited.’

The result was a night of limited sleep as toilets flushed all over the house. After all Suzie had tried her best and we were ok as we hadn’t eaten any.

I was woken by Patrick getting back into bed. Apparently Fred was already cleaning out the pool ready for his tribe. Patrick was cross and instructed me to get rid of them at all costs. I said that we couldn’t do that, as they were good customers. I said that I wasn’t going to let them spoil my holiday. Live and let live!

Gladys walked out of my en-suite bathroom and said good morning. I wondered if she had heard our conversation but concluded that I didn’t care anyway.

I met George in the corridor and asked him what he was doing. He said that he was carrying their cases to the front door. I got excited and congratulated him on his initiative. My euphoria collapsed when Fred carried them back muttering something under his breath.

I found Jamie outside with several jam jars. I asked him what he was doing and he said that he was collecting flies.

During lunch I noticed that two steaks had disappeared from the fridge. What a cheek I thought!

During the night I heard banging coming from the Douglas’ bedroom. How disgusting and in my house too!

In the morning it became apparent that they had been infested with flies and mosquitoes during the night. Well done Jamie, I thought.

I started the day hovering but found only limited suction from the blasted device. On closer inspection I removed two moth eaten steaks from the nozzle and a variety of insect life. Had they discovered Jamie’s plot for eviction?

Breakfast was a silent affair. The twins sat in silence staring at my children and they stared back in turn pulling a variety of faces to relieve the boredom. Gladys had squeezed herself into a black bikini and rolls of fat hung loosely from the tight fitting garment. Fred was wearing his Speedos but I avoided another close inspection of his male bikini line. Patrick was in the garden shed mixing up some weed killer. He wasn’t going to, was he? Eviction was one thing; murder quite a different matter. I went out to him but he assured me that he was only killing the weeds near the pool, which was now a pastel green colour. The product of bodily fluids jettisoned into the water?

We called the pool engineer out who discovered that the pool had been filled with green food colouring. George was nowhere to be seen when this news was announced. Gladys announced that she was going to go topless in the garden and Patrick suggested that we should go for a walk. We all agreed and started the long march up the farm track to the village.

During our walk we had such a laugh. The children came up with numerous schemes to get rid of the uninvited! They ranged from bogus weather forecasts; recorded in their bedrooms, to a telegram requiring the immediate return of the Douglas family owing to a sudden flood in their suburban dwelling. We enjoyed this rest from the uninvited but returned to a shocking scene.

As we walked down the garden I noticed Gladys and Fred lying on the sun lounger in the nude. Next to them the twins sat clutching their juvenile wedding tackle. Suzie announced that she was going to be sick. Patrick said a cheerful hello walked past them and left me alone in the garden. Fred stood up and asked me if I wanted a beer. I instantly thought of an ape family as I perused his copious body hair. I decided that I would not like to clean out his bath plughole! I made my excuses and hid in the sanctity of my bedroom for half an hour.

As I pulled back the bedroom curtains I saw Fred fiddling in his car boot. I looked for suitcases but they were sadly lacking. I watched him wash his car. Was he preparing to move on? My juices almost flowed with excitement. I showed love to Patrick in my excitement. He didn’t complain.

By 10.30am we were sitting in our car plotting the route to Mulzin beach. The Douglas family were strapped into the Volvo and waiting for our first move.

Patrick drove like a maniac. He pulled out in front of overtaking cars to try to lose our guests. Each time we thought we had lost them they would appear waving in the rear view mirror.

Outside Bordeaux Patrick tried another manoeuvre. He overtook a lorry and then swung violently to the right to take a minor slip road obscured by the articulated lorry. We went another 5 kms and stopped in a lay-by. We had lost them.

We spent a lovely day on an alternative beach and I was glad that we had left the door key hidden under the plant pot. If the Douglas family had returned they could have packed and be on their way before we got back.

Tired, happy and exhausted we arrived back at the house. We were greeted with nine bowls filled with pasta illuminated by candlelight. We ate in silence and I saw George pinch Daniel under the table. The boy didn’t cry out but just smiled at George in a satanic manner. George announced that he was going to bed early and left the table. Daniel followed him a short while later and I heard muffled screams coming from the boys’ bedroom.

After a few gins I decided to tuck the children up in bed. I was shocked to see George tied by the hands and feet wearing only his underpants. The Douglas twins were standing like angelic forms at the foot of his bed with a curious smile on their face. I told them that there were ice creams in the fridge and they left the room of juvenile bondage. George eventually calmed down and swore his revenge on Satin’s spawn.

The Douglas family were sitting at the table when I walked into the kitchen. I forced myself to offer a pleasant ‘good morning.’ They were listening to the weather forecast on the radio. I recognised the voice of the announcer. So Patrick had made the recording after all! They were not impressed with the hurricanes predicted and discussed whether they should move on. Was the plan going to work? Gladys announced that she was happy staying here and that they should stay until the day before we, as a family, were to depart.

Undercover of darkness we, the Brandon’s, crept out of the house. Our bags were packed the previous night whilst Suzie distracted the Douglas’ with a tale from school. We drove to another emergency booking. The house was smaller but free from outside intervention. The pool smaller, but gladly free from nudist psychopaths.

We spent the day lounging by the pool but our Shangri-La was interrupted by a voice from beyond the hedge.

"It’s only us! We’ve come to visit!"

Cold pasta is always unwelcome in any home. Patrick retired to the bathroom clutching a packet of razor blades. I wondered if he had the courage and whether his life insurance was paid up.

The farmhouse welcomed us back with the absence of a Volvo parked in the drive. We unpacked and spread ourselves around the house enjoying the freedom.

The crunching of gravel on the driveway shattered our bliss. A green Volvo came to a halt and the Douglas family emerged from the passenger compartment carrying several cardboard boxes. They announced that they had bought enough provisions to see us all through the week. Patrick started to cry and the children jumped into the pool and spent rather a long time under water. They only emerged when the twins jumped in.

Patrick suggested that we should all go into Riberac for the music festival. It seemed like a good idea and I was up for it.

We sat outside the French restaurant on a large table. Surrounding us were families having fun and we were entertained by an accomplished music group and associated drama contingent. The food was adequate and the entertainment most enjoyable. A sweaty Frenchman manhandled Gladys and Fred was whisked away by a strange female sporting an advanced growth of underarm hair. The twins watched with some interest as they chewed on their tartar steak. They frequently wiped their mouths on the paper serviettes, the colour changing from white to red by the end of the evening. Was I sharing my holiday home with vampires?

We left early and drove back to the house. The wine and congenial atmosphere of the evening caused some merriment in the car during the return journey. We decided to place their suitcases outside the house and wait inside under the cover of darkness. We would leave a note explaining that we had been called back to Nottingham as a matter of some importance pinned to the front door. Our plan was set and we watched as the Douglas family pulled up outside our violated holiday home. The note was read and the twins carried back into the car. The car remained stationary for the remainder of the night.

What were we to do? We could not remain hidden in the house for the last day of our holiday. Various schemes were planned but Suzie’s was the most promising. By using the back pathway we could sneak round to the car, hidden behind the neighbouring barn, and approach the house giving the impression that we had returned. The plan was agreed and executed.

As we emerged from the car, its radiator hardly warm, we approached the steamed up windows of the parked Volvo. Its occupants emerged somewhat the worse for wear and greeted us like long lost friends. I felt the first drops of rain fall on my blouse as we carried their suitcases into the house. The clouds darkened and the heavens opened a torrential burst of rain. We ran into the house.

Fred announced that they would be leaving. We all made mock protestations but he would not be dissuaded. The suitcases were carried back to the Volvo and we waved our best wave as they reversed up the drive towards the south of France for their second week of their holiday.

We walked into the quiet house and I made a cup of tea. The children settled to watch the final part of James Bond and I started packing. The holiday was nearly over and I was looking forward to getting back to Nottingham.

My alarm woke me at 5.30am. Two hours of cleaning and packing awaited me. Patrick cleaned the pool for the next guests and the children gradually emerged from their bedrooms to a chorus of ‘mind that floor, it’s wet!’ The car was packed and we shut the shutters on our 2001 family holiday.

The journey back was relaxing. We stopped several times to enjoy the local cuisine. Patrick let me drive and we arrived three hours late for our train. We were happy, yet sad to be returning to work and school.

Next year we will travel across the Sahara Desert in a camel train. We should be safe from the Douglas family. But who knows?

I shut the book with a curious smile on my face. The receptionist called me to my appointment and I hardly noticed the three injections placed firmly into my gums. During the drilling I thought about the commercial potential of this diary. It would transcribe readily into a Docu-soap. That was my plan and I was going to make it a reality.

Two months later Fred and Gladys Douglas were sitting on their ancient sofa watching television. Gladys looked up from her knitting and spoke to Fred,

"Fred, there is a docu-soap on channel 6. Turn it over, I want to watch it!"

"Ok, my little jelly fish," replied the overweight, hairy man. He changed channel and they prepared to watch the programme.

‘Tonight we show you a holiday nightmare. Have you ever been on a holiday that ends in disaster? We join the Smith family who will tell you their story…’ the announcer stated with a merest hint of a Scottish accent.

With the programme ended Fred turned out the light and Gladys started to follow him to their bedroom.

"What would you have done, Gladys, if you were in the position of that family?" asked Fred as he scratched his member through his baggy purple underwear.

"I’m far too sensitive to let it worry me! I know that I wouldn’t inflict myself on such a lovely family," responded Gladys as she adjusted the strap on her black holiday bikini. Fred turned off the light and patted his wife gently on the behind.

Careless talk

Leads to events unsurpassed.

Lies and deception

Rule the day.

Steven Longman-Marshall