Center Parcs. These two words conjure up connotations of a certain strata of British society. Sensible, wholesome people who know what to wear in bad weather, and don’t complain about it. The kind of people who have bike racks on their cars and lots of friends and are easygoing and unpretentious and uncomplicated and really love their kids.
Being a dyed in the wool London media type I had never been to Center Parcs and didn’t know anyone who had. I instinctively felt it wasn’t for people like me. But with two million people a year signing up for a self-catering holiday in the woods, I can recognise a national institution when I see one, I was intrigued.
