My physique went down particularly well, earning nods of approval from the variety of guests on loungers nearby. I suggested No1 Son seated next to me put his shirt back on to avoid embarrassment. I may have even made some remark about his cross fit and weight training regime being a waste of time.
One day the kids set off with a van driver for adventures older tendons and ligaments don't stretch to. They arrived home at high speed with two of the three succumbing to some form of virus and needing the first aid kit, and Boomerang Child suffering the attentions of their large and amorous driver.
It was obvious some parental advice was required and Mrs P stepped in.
That evening after a couple of hours discussing the situation, Mrs P stepped into something else - a large black hole where she thought the path was on the way to the restaurant.
Broken bones were a very real possibility as she smashed her legs on rocks and the edge of a wooden ramp, but my lady is made of stern stuff and the concern of rescuers and the watching crowd was brushed aside as she rose, shakily to her feet and continued on her way, a decent restaurant merlot proving it can fix just about anything.
Obviously, all good things must come to an end and it was with a little sadness that we traipsed to the shuttle for our last ride back to the airport.
We were stuffed in the waiting minibus until there was one seat left, right next to the driver. Boomerang Child grabbed it, only to discover Mr Amorous would be her neighbour for the next 45 minutes.
At this juncture, you may ask why I did not take steps to immediately put a stop to the one-sided, fairly pointed conversation going on as we drove. In my defence, I should point out I wouldn't have been able to get near anyway. So tight were we packed in I had a surfboard on my lap, a suitcase on my foot and somebody's elbow in my ear.
As passengers, suitcases and surfboards fell out of the van in a heap at the airport, a nervous Boomerang Child appraised me of the situation and a request from Mr Amorous to, er, say goodbye properly.
Obviously, where a child is concerned, the protective instincts kick in and I prepared for battle ... by racing through to the sanctuary of the departure lounge, a relieved Boomerang Child in tow.
It was only when the plane lifted off to safety that I sank back into my seat, utterly exhausted. It's draining having a relaxing holiday. Next year I'll just park a caravan in my driveway and read a book.
