BBC Radio 4 20170811

“Why are you broadcasting from Norwich?” my producer asked me.

“I do every August. I’m on holiday by the seaside.”

“If you’re on holiday,” she said, “why are you broadcasting at all?”

Must be my upbringing. When my father, a clergyman’s son, retired and moved house he was shocked to learn that his new vicar took a day off: in nineteen years as a boarding school head master, though he had generous holidays he had never been off-duty in term-time.
My husband was a vicar for fourteen years and in a sense was never off-duty. Clergy are called to a “living,” which their families often live too. And the calling is in the character: not just what you do but who you are.

The need for rest, however, goes back to the beginning of time. God worked: and then God rested. Celebration after striving has always been part of survival. Wealthy Romans retired to country villas in between the urban business of state. Since before Chaucer went on pilgrimage, travelling to reflect on what God has done for us, as well as recuperate from the daily burden of life, has been part of marking holy-days.

As indeed has learning about other cultures. Renaissance young men had expensive gap years to widen their horizons – acquiring, according to Shakespeare’s Rosalind, rich eyes and poor hands. With the European turmoil of the Napoleonic Wars two hundred years later we learnt to sight-see at home, like Lizzie Bennet and her friends the Gardiners viewing historic country houses such as Mr Darcy’s Pemberley. Mid-nineteenth century rail made exploring more accessible, and by the time my grandfather decided on the North Norfolk coast for summer holidays a century ago, half his family would go in his new motor car and wave at the other half as they chugged passed on the train at the level crossing. Similarly I can just remember, with my mother and sister, overtaking my older brothers, aged seven and eight, bicycling eighty four miles from Cambridge with my father... long before gears were thought of.

And still we go: cousins, siblings, dogs, four generations, this year a two-week old. Like many pretty places, Sheringham is seasonally transformed: bunting in the streets, the summer rep, the one-time beach mission. We love it. But we also need to consider the impact we might have for harm we as well as good – as on the now-far-too-crowded beautiful Island of Skye, fearful of losing its very nature to the nonchalant holiday-maker.

Fortifying family ties. Connecting with other cultures. Reflecting on our faith. “Come with me to a quiet place and get some rest,” Jesus said to His friends, so busy they hadn’t had time to eat. He Himself often rose early to go somewhere alone to think and pray.

Holy days. Precious times. To build on what we believe, live awhile with those we love, reassess our ambitions.