The perpetual blue sky, the elegance of the Spanish guitar in the background and the feel of baby sick between your toes – I love a good holiday.
We’ve just got back from a sunny week in Lanzarote and we’ve got some amazing memories.
The main lesson I learnt on this trip is that holidaying with two children is gruelling.
A colleague – without offspring – went away at the same time as us and was telling everyone else about how many books she had read, how she had listened to her iPod from start to finish and the crazy, lazy, nights of 14 hours sleep she had enjoyed.
I read one paragraph of my book – in a week.
At just under a year old, our son Jack is teething at the moment.
Flying for four hours, sat in a seat that Kylie Minogue would find a squeeze, with a tormented baby on your lap biting the woman in front’s hair, is not as relaxing as it may seem.
This was the seating availability on our flight – premium or battery.
In fact, I would go as far as to say that the confinement we suffered on those flights was a contravention of basic human rights.
One real benefit of a teething baby is that you do get to enjoy a beautiful sunrise, even though I had eyes like a dormouse’s ear.
Jack had decided that sleeping in was over-rated, so he wanted entertaining at 4.37am on most days.
Sadly, the hotel had not laid on too much entertainment at that time of the morning, so I would bundle him into his buggy and shuffle around the grounds of the hotel.
I must have spent hours walking in circles scowling at one of the German guests – in his revolting underpants – as he scurried about putting towels out on sunbeds.
Meal times at home are challenging enough with two kids, let alone when you are sharing a dining hall with an additional 400 people from all over Europe.
It really was a gastronomic minefield, with cutlery, napkins and pastries flying all over the place.
I thought I was pretty lucky to only witness one grilled tomato-related injury.
The array of breakfast on offer was staggering.
From herrings to tropical fruit and omelettes, it was certainly rich pickings.
As the Italian children on the table next to ours methodically peeled and nibbled their dainty kumquats, I watched on proudly as my daughter Molly filled her plate to periscope depth with baked beans and then launched in four hot dog sausages...the breakfast of champions.
To be fair, the whole family had a great holiday – we just need about six months to get over it before the next one.