Our holiday was going swimmingly, and I mean that literally in my son’s case. He had decided that he far preferred the beach and the warm, unpredictable sea to the organised chaos around the pool. His newly-bought lilo was quickly forgotten in favour of storming the waves in the sea with his goggles on, immersing himself in saltwater like he was born to it. Having spent my own childhood by the sea in North Wales during every school holiday, where I taught myself to swim in the lukewarm waters, I much preferred the beach myself and amused myself helping him dig massive holes and create our own special brand of sandcastle, or in other words, a huge mound of sand with a half-hearted moat around the base.
Our days were quickly falling into a routine – up for breakfast, taking a quick detour to the pool on our way to the restaurant to deposit towels on sun beds in true ‘European’s on holiday’ style, back to the room to pack a beach bag, then out in the elements until lunchtime at 12. Then it was back out again to the beach with the option of finishing off the afternoon at the hotel’s small waterpark before the evening entertainment.
It was an ideal holiday for us both. Gorgeous weather, plenty of activities to keep us busy, or the option of completely chilling out and going with the flow, and a chance to spend some quality mother-son time together without the stresses and strains of everyday life. Pure, relaxing bliss!