Postcard from Spain - Children's holiday settings

It was a new experience, being on a prolonged holiday with children. They seem to have an endless 30 minute cycle of; play, get in fight, cry, tantrum, blaming one another, make up, play. I learned two things – there’s no reasoning with kids and their parents’ get very funny if you scream ‘shut the f**k up or I’ll beat you to death with your own spleen’ at a four year old.

Given that children show an amazing disregard for danger when climbing on rocks (I came a cropper when doing the same and would have had a nasty cut to the head if I had not been wearing my safety panama), they are astonishingly conservative when it comes to food. Faced with an astonishing selection of the foods of the world children, it appears, like nuggets. I’m not sure they care about the contents, possibly because they drench the nugget in enough ketchup to disguise the taste even if it was polonium.

Which made eating out in a Spanish resort quite an experience. One thing was for sure, I was in no danger of having my food poached. Judging from what turned up on my plate one evening, my phrase book Spanish let me down and instead of having a seafood selection I was confronted with what might be more accurately described as Horror from the Deep. The last time I saw that many tentacles on something was during a cheese and pickle binge induced nightmare. Predictably, it was delicious. The kids nearly went into convulsions So win win really.