Florida Diary

The lead up to any foreign holiday is usually a stressful period in the Keen household as a certain key member builds herself (that's a clue) into a frenzy of worry. Some of this stress is probably due to the normal discussion or argument about the amount of luggage that the family insists on taking. After a few days of very long hours with little time for thinking about the business of packing I was pleased that Mrs Keen had performed heroics again in getting the family ready for the trip. On the bed she had laid out a suggested wardrobe for me for our 2 week stay in Florida. Included were 6 shirts, 2 sweaters, 27 t-shirts and 19 pairs of shorts ....many of which I had not seen for a very long long time. There followed the usual 'discussion' about the ridiculous quantities of clothes that the family insist on taking to all corners of the world, despite the fact that one of the main purposes of the trip was to visit more shops to buy more....clothes.

The other reason for additional worry was that elder son Jason (and new BBC radio personality) would be travelling alone to join us 2 days later after completing his Summer school course at Warwick University.

On departure day we crammed 5 of us, 5 suitcases, 3 rucksacks and 3 other bags into a specially requested people carrier taxi, unfortunately leaving no room for my golf clubs. I would have to settle for miniature golf again instead of the championship courses on offer in the Orange state (more on golf later). The taxi driver took it all in his stride, though he did enquire how long we were away for. Mrs Keen's reply of "17 days" was exact in order to make it sound longer than 2 weeks but it was still a poor excuse for the amount and weight of baggage. Some might say that I have an obsession with the luggage issue. But it is more of a family tradition for us to have one of our 'discussions' about it on the way to the airport - perfect way to start the holiday. Luckily the recovery periods are never that long.

In contrast to the baggage issue, I am mostly content to settle for a quiet life, so agreed with Mrs Keen's plan to arrive at Gatwick 3½ hours before departure. We left home with images on TV of Heathrow serving as a refugee camp to thousands of stranded travellers due to the strike. So it was with some trepidation that we made our way that early morning. With the aid of satellite navigation our taxi driver weaved his way across Surrey back-roads to reach the M25. I was tempted to point out that the M3 does a pretty good job but again opted for a quiet life. So arriving at Gatwick we were of course informed that our flight was 1 hour delayed. But at least being so early meant that we would get our choice of seats. Not so. We were told that there was no row left which had 5 available seats. Branson has introduced a new DIY check-in service which meant that more clued in passengers had swiped all the good seats. Carol managed to negotiate a slightly more forward row though we were still spread over 2 rows - but perhaps not a bad thing.

After wedging myself into 14 inches of legroom I settled down for the in-flight entertainment. Surprisingly it included the new series of Lost which is the story of a plane crash on a Pacific island. Thanks Richard.

The flight passed quickly enough and we were soon lining up at US immigration with hundreds of other tourists. Mrs Keen had taken the responsibility of filling in the embarkation cards and had taken the trouble to ask a stewardess for advice. So we marched from the plane to US immigration with confidence that the normally gruff immigration official could not possibly find anything to complain about. Again not so. Apparently our address was not exact enough - International Drive was not exact enough. For a split second I had visions of being marched back to the plane and sent back to England, but instead Mrs Keen's diplomatic skills swung into action. With a flash of that smile and some quick alterations crisis was averted. She could get a job at the foreign office.

For some reason, at Orlando International Airport, the process of arrival is made longer by the need to collect your bags not once but twice. After the first collection you hand your bags back to be taken to the main terminal while you travel by monorail. Your bags eventually arrive on a belt where anyone passing can help themselves which probably explain the mad rush to be the first to secure them. As is customary ours were some of the last to appear proving that anxiety had been wasted.

We had booked our vehicle with Alamo. I use the word vehicle because a normal car is nowhere near large enough to accommodate the family plus luggage plus new purchases. In 2003 we had to upgrade from a mini van to monster van. It was so big that the whole family could have probably got into the luggage area with the suitcases quite comfortably. So looking for some middle ground we had booked an 8-seater this time. They had a unique system whereby you can choose from a selection of vehicles of various makes lined up. You can imagine the scene as we all charged up and down looking for the vehicle with the best seating arrangement ad the nicest colour. After some consideration and some tears of disappointment we chose a gold Astro Chevrolet. Once we had worked out how to release the handbrake we were away. it is a crime that there is such a wealth of choice of vehicles in the US made for the Keen family dimensions and at such affordable prices whilst in the UK the choice is so limited and expensive.

On Saturday evening our first dining out experience was at Charley's steak house, which claimed to be in the top 10 steak houses. I'm not sure if this is in the world, tthe state of Florida of in a 100m range of the Sizzler on International Drive. We were after a standard family meal, nothing too fancy. After looking at 2/3, patience was wearing thin and tummies were rumbling so we took the plunge and went in. I worried when I spotted the tablecloths and saw the menu prices but by then the waiter was already unravelling napkins with a flourish and the kids were ordering drinks. So all hope of fiscal discipline on this holiday was lost on the first day. I didn't quite get the theme of Charleys with its wood panelled rooms, photos of nearly famous golfers and very dim lighting. So dim in fact that we experienced the 'steak presentation' by torchlight. The waiter showed us a series of hunks of meat that would have satisfied a small African village for a couple of weeks. Guilt was fleeting however and we tucked in. The sweet presentation was even more obscene, again by torchlight. The thought of more food passing my lips at this stage was giving me nausea so we decided to take a doggy bag of a carrot cake and a half eaten chocolate cake which kept the family going for a couple of days - I joke not!

Part of the Florida experience is to seek out bargains in the outlet stores. As far as Mrs Keen is concerned these are amazing bargains which cannot be passed up. As far as I am concerned it is a rare opportunity to buy stuff at normal rather than over-inflated prices, whilst still no doubt paying the wages of a Taiwanese sweat shop worker and providing the brand with a tidy margin. Bargain of the day was a pair of Timberland shoes which were priced at $40 but the turned out to be discounted by 50% at the till (sorry cash register). Needless to say we have made several shopping visits so far and have 'saved' a fortune including a large holdall to bring all the essentials back in.

The holiday hit a low point on Tuesday morning when the laptop wouldn't boot up properly. This was a minor (in fact major) catastrophe with 160+ fantasy football managers waiting to hear news of their teams performances. After a melancholic morning trying to resolve the problem and a email from the office IT bod, we journeyed to WalMart to purchase a Windows XP disk. an expensive solution but one which resolved the problem and got the ref back on line. My PC, the world wide web and me are rarely separated for long and never happily.

Click here to see movie clips - including the Tidal wave at Busch Gardens (Keen kids 1 row from the back)

after spending most of Wednesday sitting outside thrill rides at Busch Gardens, Mrs Keen put her foot down and proposed a visit to Winter Park. As you know for a quiet life I am happy to go along with most things. Winter Park sounded like a mini Busch Gardens to Anthony and Sian but there was the beauty of the trap. We were in fact to visit the Morse museum in a small enclave of culture in north Orlando. It houses the largest collection of Tiffany art anywhere in the world and Mrs Keen's new hobby of art history required a visit. If you are ever in a theme park and they announce that the particular attraction is not suitable for the elderly, don't waste your time sympathising. There are places for the elderly and Winter Park is one of them. When we entered the museum, the curator, a charming old dear (reminded me of Jessica Tandy - Driving Miss Daisy) early fell over. It had obviously been many years since she had seen children. In fact Carol and I were probably the youngest in the place by a clear 20 years. I am not an art buff by any stretch but some of the pieces were truly stunning. Fortunately, after giving up the search for the thrill rides, the kids were quite patient and were placated by the customary visit to the museum gift shop. We followed the museum visit with a 'scenic boat trip' round the adjacent lakes. The lakes and indeed the whole place is an idyllic location for a prospective retiree (and sadly we start to think about such things) but less than exciting for the kids. Another old timer piloted the small boat around the lakes and through the adjoining canals pointing out highlights such as the sculptures on the terraces of large mansions, various pets (including a very nice border collie which normally made an appearance but for some reason didn't on this occasion) and the appearance of cars in the local college parking lot which signified the approaching start of the new term. 'They're coming' he said.

By now we are old hands at this. To the untrained eye the Sheraton complex is a haven of tranquility. But if you happen to venture into the 'Preview lounge' you will be amazed. Dozens of families are offered a free breakfast in exchange for a presentation on the merits of vacation ownership (that's timeshare to you and me). Having been through this experience once (and succumbed) we felt brave enough to go through it again. The incentive was not just a free breakfast, nor even the discounted theme parks (worth about $100 to us) but the opportunity to vent our spleen about the incredibly frustrating system of swapping our timeshare week to other destinations. Our lack of success in this was evidenced by our return to our 'home' resort just 2 years after our previous visit. Poor Barbara soon realised that there would be no sale today and thankfully gave up her campaign fairly swiftly. But the popping of champagne corks in the room revealed that other families were still biting. And to be fair other families' circumstances probably suited more than ours. Our timeshare has become a long term investment.

Part of being on holiday is reading books. In the normal course of life my reading is limited to the FT, Telegraph, economic research and PC mags - interesting. So only when I am cut off from the business world and normally only after chilling for about a week, I relax enough to start some serious reading. I first finished a whodunnit paperback which I bought on a previous holiday - and I have forgotten the title and author already. Now I have started Frank Skinner by Frank Skinner. I've always thought Frank to be a comedy genius. By his own admission he takes 6 months to read a book but he writes as he speaks. It makes me wonder why I am bothering.

On every holiday I always get to that point when I am perfectly chilled. It only happens once and the moment is always brief but I just feel completely at peace without a care in the world. Today was a 'rest' day. Late rising. We drove to Ponderosa for a typical obscene all-you-can-eat breakfast. We waddled back to the resort for a relaxing time by the pool. Mrs Keen is just off to the bar for another round of drinks. Anthony and Sian re playing happily in the pool. Jason and Holly are also on good form, playing cards with Mum. Our only concern is where to go to eat tonight. Bliss

After experiencing the wettest day in 100 years in St Petersburg in 2003, we had another extreme weather day. Lets face it that's the way it has to be in the US. Sitting in our room during the normal afternoon thunderstorm there was an almighty bang which sounded like our building had been hit by lightning. Almost immediately an alarm sounded in our room and after checking with reception we were required to wait outside the room. This seemed slightly dangerous during the thunder storm which was raging on creating a river of the road. This was the first time we met our neighbours, though I'm sure they had heard us before. After about 20 minutes a Sheraton man arrived, disappeared into a small room and the alarm was switched off. We never did find out where the lightning struck.

A special Keen tradition is to tour the various Orlando mini Golf courses. We have a handicap system which is adjustable depending on performance. Never let it be said that my kids are not competitive. The choice moment so far was when Anthony lipped the hole and saw his ball slip into the adjacent water hazard. If Monty had lost the Open he would not have been any less upset. Only Holly shows any normal level of interest (i.e completely uninterested) and for that she is equipped with the highest handicap and the dubious honour of having lost more balls than anyone else so far.

Jason lining up a putt.

So far we have fed alligators and swam with sharks.
Click here to see Jason feeding an alligator

Like any good catholic family we rose early on Sunday to attend mass. Speaking as a heathen, you have to admire catholics and their loyalty. In the middle of Orlando is a church (in fact it is more of cathedral) to which the tourists flocked. The scene reminded me of Field of Dreams - a never ending procession of cars. There was a squad car to control the traffic and the car park was almost of Disney proportions. 'Build it and they will come' and that is exactly what the priest had done over the last 25 years in preaching to tourists. One clue as to how this was achieved was that the collection plate was passed around not once but twice. Also a large part of the sermon was taken up by a sales pitch for commemorative plaques which could be purchased for the pews or bronze doors and a plug for rosary rings which could be purchased in the gift shop. I think even Mrs Keen was embarrassed as this was the only gift shop in the whole of Orlando that we managed to avoid. Or did the priest miss a Disney trick and make sure we had to go through the gift shop in order to get to the exit?

The only genuine conversion of the holiday was the switch of loyalty from the Ponderosa to the Golden Corral as favourite breakfast destination.