Who’s the Daddy? column


Kayak in the Mediterranean with daughter #1 and literally high-five, grinning, once we’re back on the beach.

We did think about letting daughter #1 and daughter #2 share a two-man boat but the arguments on board would’ve put Life Of Pi to shame.

We lounge around our hotel’s glorious swimming pool doing the square root of sod-all, day after blissful day, while the sun shines on us like a heat lamp.

I stupidly go on a training run along the beautiful Northern Mallorca coastline from Alcudia to Port de Pollenca and back. At 4pm. In 30C heat. Done some daft things in my time, none so brainless as that.

The cooling sea breeze may well caress your sun-kissed skin as you watch the waves crash against the rocks as the sun sets. However, running in it during the day has the same effect as opening an oven door.

We hire bikes and pootle along the coastline on a custom-built cycle path. And our girls don’t moan, much. Feeding Time (also known as Buffet Wars).

As if slaloming through dozens of sunburned zombies while carrying your teetering plate of grub through the hotel’s restaurant isn’t bad enough, the child worship displayed by some parents is enough to put you off your paella.

I don’t know what’s worse.

Toddlers plonked in a high chair, full-body bib on, sedated by a Winnie The Pooh movie blaring away on an iPad, or grown men acting like serfs, food tasting for their little princesses for fear they might eat something their delicate little palates haven’t encountered before.

We enjoy the kind of day that makes the holiday worth every penny we spent.

We meet up with our Lancaster buddies at Mallorca’s biggest water park and our kids spend six hours queueing, sliding and screaming down rides so high they make you queasy just looking at them.

As you walk out of the hotel for the last time to your coach back to the airport and see a pool full of cavorting holidaymakers, that’s exactly what it’s like after you die. Life goes on without you.

All the more reason to enjoy it while you can.