A day

After a couple of days of excitement, adventure and expense ohmygodholidaysaresoexpensive on the coast, we're back in our regular holiday rhythm today.

We sleep til we wake up (the children tease me for saying 'don't get up until you wake up' but what I mean is you don't HAVE to get up the minute you wake up!) and we potter around the guest house in whispers, before opening the shutters some time around nine and changing the mood in an instant from quiet, sleepy, dreamy dark to BRIGHT! Wow! What are we going to do with this beautiful day!

After breakfast we gather our stuff into huge Continente shopping bags, which, being foreign and different are somehow more attractive than Sainsbury's bags for life, but one day I really MUST buy us a proper pretty beach bag, and head up to the 'big house' where Richard and Matthew live. On the way we're joined by the two black dogs; Mosi carrying her tennis ball knowing that she has five willing throwers and a thousand fetches a day ahead of her, and Sisi, the licker, who shows her affection by gently taking your whole hand in her mouth, which freaks the children out a bit, but she's sweet and affectionate and gives us her undemanding company all day long.

The big house and guest house are set in gardens. White stone paths weave in and out of lavender and rosemary bushes, thyme spills under your feet, hibiscus, bougainvillaea and morning glory provide colour, fig, orange, lime, pomegranate and olive trees are in full fruit. Bushes are sculpted into perfect domes, only white roses are allowed. Everything buzzes and hums.

Up at the Big House, Ricardo, Richard's PA is at work on the laptop. He's stopped off on the way to work to bring fresh bread. He asks if we've fed the fish - huge fat koi carp that flop lazily in the pond, sharing the space with two snakes, countless dragonflies and frogs. The children race off to the pond while Jamie and I work out the food situation for the day (as long as we've got fresh tomatoes, bread, cheese and pasta we're ok - no need to leave the house today).

The pool is opened, towels are spread, chairs are claimed, sun cream reluctantly absorbed, books reopened, dice rattled, cards dealt. Sally, our chief player, names the game. She nearly always wins, we never let her. I'm going to take her to Vegas one day and she if she can work her magic on the tables.

The morning passes; gentle activity, a game of catch in the pool, kids diving in, diving for coins, swimming underwater from one end to the other, jumping on the shark. Grace is reading The Help, she's on her seventh book; only eight to go before she can tick another thing off her bucket list.

The sun comes over the yard arm; 'is it that time already?' Super Bocks are opened, the kids fall on bowls of stick crisps and drink Lemon Ice Tea, their newly discovered holiday thing; 'best drink ever'.

Lunch happens around the table where THE PARADISE IS IN YOUR SOUL is carved. Wasps are annoying. Dogs beg.

A game of ping pong around the world after we've all cleared up 'yes you have to help'. It's too hot outside so they all sit inside, all three bunched round the laptop watching You Tube clips of Dance Moms. 'Let Tom watch something HE wants to watch, girls', 'But he likes this' they insist.

Jamie and I drift to the shade, to read and plan and play with the camera (me) catch up with the business and Twitter (him). Grace usually comes back first, picking up her book and immediately getting lost in America, 1962.

Tom and Sal come later, together, either bickering or best friends, always inseparable. Fidgety, too hot, can't settle, don't want to read, too cold to swim 'can we turn the heat up?' 'NO!' won't go in until one of us comes in. Gah! hard to tear ourselves away from our own enjoyment, but we've learnt; we either give 100% or no-one gets anything out of it. So one of us, or both of us, in the pool. A game emerges, out of nowhere, 'what you have to do is ....' 'come on Titch' 'FAMILY SWIM!' Grace still reading, eventually, reluctantly, rejoins us, then all of a sudden, dropping her years in a second she becomes a delicious, playful puppy again.

We play until we get cold, return shivering to sun-warm towels. Goggle-rimmed eyes, goosebumps and mock chattering teeth.

The day drifts on, excitement when two chameleons are spotted! The children give me frog updates 'there are three by the pond!' There is always Blip discussion 'have you Blipped, mum?' 'Is that your Blip?' 'Am I still your most-Blipped child?' Supper planned, cooked and shared, maybe a barbeque? Tom lights the fire, wine poured, 'use your knife' 'no more Ice Tea - have some water' 'what's for pudding AND DON'T SAY FRUIT!'

Later, we clear the pool of the boat, the shark, the noodles and the sunken goggles. The cover goes on, the moon is up. Belongings re-stuffed into bags 'how come we've got so much stuff?' 'We brought too much, we always do'. Back along winding paths to the guest house. I stay up for a bit to Blip where I can get a signal, then have to make my way down, on my own, in the dark, more scared than I should be, feeling the steps with my toes, hoping nothing runs, scuttles, crawls or slithers over my feet.

Safety in the pre-bed noise of the family, baths running, arguments rumbling on 'don't touch my side of the bed with your feet' 'those are mine' 'have you done your teeth?' 'No you haven't' 'say goodbye to the dogs' 'bye dogs' 'where's my book' 'I'm itchy' 'my feet hurt' 'go to BED'.

The stars are amazing. The SkyView app incredible. We locate Mars, Jupiter, the ISS 'is that it? Or is that a plane?' We name craters on the moon, we can see them on the zoom. We wish we had a telescope.

'Nice day' 'same again tomorrow?' 'don't see why not'. Familiar conversations, a steady rhythm, creatures of habit.

Tired, we sleep. We've been busy - doing nothing.