The boys are back

On arriving back from the airport with Sharon yesterday evening, we had a wonderful reception at the front door. In the half hour I'd been away to collect Sharon after her conference in Birmingham, the boys had arrived home with Nana and Papa after "their best holiday ever". Angus was standing on the front step, already in his favourite fleecy sleepsuit despite the heat (he saw it on return and just had to put it on) and beaming from ear to ear as we pulled into the drive.

Sean wasn't far behind, launching into a big hug, while Rowan and Finn were a tangle of limbs around Sharon at the foot of the stairs. It was nearly a week since Sharon left Ireland and almost a fortnight since I bade them farewell in New Ross and suddenly the peace was shattered and the house was alive once more with shrill, excited voices.

Calming them down a little with showers and pizza (even though it was half past nine), we were regaled with tales of swimming in Lough Rea with Tricia's kids (Sean being re-united with Diarmuid with whom he used to play when just a toddler and Tricia and Barry lived in Edinburgh), making their own wooden "Skog people" with Adrian (Finn has even made his own V-shaped thumb and nostril "plug" to try and wean himself off the thumb-sucking!), boogie-boarding down at Fenit and just generally having a great time with their aunts and uncle. Nana and Papa weren't getting much of a look-in other than putting food on the table and getting them off to bed. Having been imploring Sharon not to leave last week, Angus had been saying he didn't want to leave Ireland but "wanted to go and stay in someone else's house". He was crying for his cousin Barry going to bed.

The boys travelled all round Ireland, made new friends, spent time with family, enjoyed fantastic weather, ate enough "ice pops" to cool a small village and just had a wonderful three weeks' holiday! It's only when I got up this morning and saw them all together in Sean and Finn's room that I realised how many children we have!

Road to Athlone

We packed up and headed off from Bushmills on Monday, stopping in at Lisa and Ian McGarel's house in Ballymoney for a visit. Lisa is a Pampered Chef director that Sharon knows. The boys had a good bounce on the trampoline and watched Willy Wonka while stuffing themselves with all manner of cakes and biscuits. Fortunately these did not make a reappearance on the drive south to Belfast and on to Dublin. Angus slept for a good part of the journey. We had a break for a snack at Liffey Valley shopping centre then belted down the final stretch to Athlone. The new roads certainly make a big difference.

Nana and Papa were delighted to have all six grandchildren under the one roof, as Edel was already at Ardilaun with Barry and Hannah. Barry was beside himself waiting for his pal Angus to arrive and was Angus was equally delighted to see him. After dinner there was much playing in the garden and running about to use up the energy that had been pent up in the car before tired boys were sent to their bed. Sharon and I were staying across the road in a spare bed in an empty house which was rather odd, especially the following morning when we had to cross in the pouring rain.

Tuesday was a bit of a lazy day, watching the showers and reading the paper, cooking and eating and clearing up and then starting all over again. Sharon took the big five (including Barry) to the nearest soft play while I had a stroll around Golden Island shops and Tesco, picking out the food for the dinner. Sean and Finn were great minding Hannah, who is closing in on her first birthday and is crawling about and threatening to try and stand. She's a smiley wee girl and the boys have really taken to their first girl cousin. Sharon loves her to bits and would spoil her rotten if she lived any closer. Edel left with Barry and Hannah after dinner and Sharon and I went round to the Coosan Tavern for a late pint, Sharon having met Tommy Colsh earlier in the evening and then bumping into his parents in the pub.

Wednesday started a little overcast but the rain held off and the boys eventually found their way outside to play with the Murtagh children, kicking a ball about Ardilaun and generally running about in a gang that obviously brought back childhood memories for Sharon. She took them down to the play park by the Leisure Centre while I cooked the dinner and watched Andy Murray struggle to overcome a Spanish player to win his Wimbledon quarter-final, coming back from two sets down. Angus insisted on staying up until Adrian and Olivia arrived, Adrian having been over to Sweden for an interview at his former college. He's not optimistic of getting the post but we'll see.

Giant's Causeway

Sunday dawned reasonably bright as Angus fell out the camp bed in our room. The boys kept fairly quiet however and Sharon and I had a lie in while they arranged their own breakfast downstairs. We made the short drive to the Giant's Causeway late in the morning and parked in the Bushmills Railway car park since, at €6 for the day, it was considerably cheaper than the €21 being asked for the combined car park and visitor centre that opened last year. We walked back up, through the tunnel and down the coastal path to the Giant's Causeway itself. The walk is reminiscent of the cliffs and raised beach of Skye or Arran. After about a mile we reached the hexagonal columns of the causeway itself, their flat tops and undulations like some geometric construction designed by man. The boys clambered all overs the columns and up some of the narrower ridges which was a bit nerve-wracking in the gusty wind. Reputedly the Causeway is the windiest spot in Ireland.

I headed out with the big three to where the waves were breaking and the spray was flying while Sharon waited for the bus back with a tiring Angus. Then the rain shower arrived! We huddled in a gap in the basalt as the rain lashed around us until we decided to make a break for it and return to the road. I survived a nasty slip on the slick rock. Sean and Finn walked back up the hill at a good pace while I accompanied Rowan. Despite the rain we were all in good spirits when we met up with Angus and Sharon at the top. Finn was funny, mimicking a woman who had been "singin' in the rayin" to her children. But we were pretty wet!

I dropped everyone back at the cottage then did a quick lunch shop in Bushmills before returning for a well earned roll and sausage. After a rest we drove along the coast to Portrush, a busy resort town with a stunning beach and a great looking links golf course. The boys had a brief free runaround in the rather grimly decorated Finn MacCool's soft play then we wandered along to the very busy 55 Degrees North who didn't have a note of our booking but who managed to find us a table nonetheless. Despite the business the service was good and the food was excellent, my pork chop, mash and red cabbage being very tasty, Sharon enjoying her steak and the boys tucking into their pizzas, pastas and salmon. It was very good value too, on the early evening menu but with portions that would put most restaurants in Edinburgh to shame.

I went to get the car and was held up as an Orange march made its way through the already busy streets. The boys headed along to the glorious stretch of beach known as the East Strand. Angus and Rowan immediately stripped down and ran into the sea, evoking memories of the last evening in Mallorca in 2010 when the big three were chasing in and out of the waves. Eventually we rounded them up, dusted them off and headed back to Bushmills to end a second enjoyable day in Norn Irlnd.

Bushmills and beyond

We've arrived in Bushmills after a pleasantly unremarkable two and a half hour drive to the Cairnryan ferry terminal this morning. The 1130 ferry time meant we were able to rise around 0630, breakfast, finish packing and get on the road at 0815 without the usual panic and rush and early start that accompanied our previous journeys to Stranraer for the 0930 crossing.

On arrival in Belfast we headed north for a change, through the showers to Bushmills, on the doorstep of the Giant's Causeway. We are staying at Aunt Rachel's cottages in a nice little stable / byre conversion about a mile out of Bushmills. The boys settled in quickly, had a wander round the farm (Angus was asking the ponies their names, but they weren't talking) then Sharon and Sean went for a run. Sharon is trying to capitalise on Sean's competitive instincts and the fact that he seemed quite pleased with himself after last week's "Race At Your Place" at the school, at which he and Finn ran the 1.5km course without stopping. Sharon accompanied Rowan round the course with just one or two stops. Tonight, Sean and Sharon ran for 28 minutes and managed about two and a half miles, which was a good effort, with Sean leading the way for the second part of the run.

We then went to the Smugglers Inn where Sean and Finn surpassed themselves, putting away ribs for starter (Sean was even seen to eat his salad, without coercion) followed by a burger and chips. Rowan and Angus tucked away their mains with little fuss too, so we went to a local playpark to burn off some energy.

After the usual carry-on trying to get them to settle in their new beds we've had time for a quiet hour or so. Time for bed, as I suspect, tired or not, they'll be up with the lark (or the farm animals, more to the point) tomorrow morning.

Final blow-out

With the start of a new week the pool area got a little busier, which prompted us to find the "big" pool further down the twisting roads of the urbanizacion. This was next to a small bar and sales office for the estate and also a tennis court, but the thought of running about in the heat did nothing for me. The sunbeds were a little less pristine and the bigger grass area a little more rough than the surroundings of the "small" pool but it was a nice enough spot to while away the afternoon. The boys certainly enjoyed the change of scenery and when the Threlfalls arrived there was great whooping and hollering, no doubt much to the disdain of the other residents and holidaymakers who who have preferred a quiet afternoon in the sun. All the children were lining up to be thrown hither and thither in the water by me, Axel and Sharon in her "Witchy Woo" persona. Noisy, it was!

Even Angus was up for being thrown in the water. He's been very confident in the water this holiday, admittedly with his armbands on and using the tube floats to great effect, but it's good to see him enjoying the water. Rowan too has been good, up to a point where he either gets cold or bored and has had enough. His swimming still isn't improving noticeably. Leaving his custom-built prescription goggles at home didn't help as he undoubtedly isn't happy when he can't see properly.

We headed back up to the villa and pulled together a quick dinner party for the Threlfalls to come over later in the evening. Axel's Mum has had one of the terraced properties across the way for twenty years but it was the first time he had been across in Villa Cantarranas and he certainly enjoyed the view and the novelty of looking down on his Mum's property that he's been visiting all this time. The kids ate and watched a DVD while the adults sat out on the balcony and chatted till the sun went down. It's been good meeting a new couple and getting to know them a little and I'd like to think we'll keep in touch with them. Jane is a writer for Sky News and Axel is the anchor for Reuters Business Insider internet TV channel so they are an interesting couple, working in the media and living in Shepherds Bush in London. It makes a change meeting people who exist in a completely different sphere.

As night fell the boys were keen to repeat their skinny dipping exploits of the night before. This started with Finn jumping into the pool with his T-shirt and shorts on and carried on in a similar vein although Angus and Oskar were a little too tired to join in. We finally called a halt after more diving and synchronised jumping in and each retired to their own house.

Tuesday was our last full day and involved plenty of steady packing up of stuff and using up of the last of the food in the house. Once again we sought out the big pool whre the boys were having fun on Edie's inflatable crocodile and playing with the dive sticks although it took me an age to locate and retrieve one from the middle of the deepest part of the pool.

We saw out the final evening by our "own pool" with a final chance to catch the glorious late afternoon and evening sunshine filtering through the palm trees as we read and had a last, leisurely swim. We headed into Mijas, parking down the side street and walking up into town and on up to Calle San Sebastien, an asthetically pleasing upwards curving street lined with restaurants and shops and whitewashed houses. The Secret Garden caught our eye and we headed inside and through the back to...the not so secret garden, judging by how busy it was. Sharon and I shared the Argentinian barbecue while Sean and Finn tackled the aptly named Mega-hamburguesas. You'd have needed to unhinge your jaw to get your mouth round one of those. I'm increasingly ambivalent about barbecued meat. Generally I find it tough going with food inevitably getting stuck between my teeth. A sign of age I suppose. This one was nice but a bit too meaty and could have done with some vegetarian balance.

We staggered out stuffed, but still had room for a stop at the nearby gelateria where the boys feasted on yet more ice-creams before waddling back to the car. A full and fitting last night out to end a fine family holiday in the sun of Spain.

Finn falls ill

Finn felt poorly after breakfast on the Saturday and was complaining of a sore stomach and was running a temperature. We had home-cooked squid and pork the night before and I was initially concerned that he might have had a touch of food poisoning but between being in the pool so often, the heat at night (the fans don't really cut it compared to decent air-conditioning) and the troublesome presence of tiny ants or termites in many nooks and crannies of the kitchen and other parts of the house, Finn could have picked up a big from anywhere. He was eventually sick and perked up a little but he swung back and forward through the day.

I had a fruitless search for the "big pool" which is also available for our use, navigating the narrow avenidas of our and the neighbouring urbanizacion to no avail. In the evening I took the three fit boys into Mijas for a wander and some dinner. We dined at Restaurant Oscar which had a great view but was pretty average in its fare. My risotto was evidently pre-cooked, microwaved then grilled so the "paella crispiness" was on top rather than underneath. And they used long grain rice rather than arborio or even paella rice. The boys ate their pizza with little comment although the breeze took Rowan's menu over the parapet. I had to check him for attempting to follow it.

We wandered some more and found a great homemade (well, homemade in Malaga) helados shop. Sean, Angus and even Rowan enjoyed their ices! Back at the house, Sharon had had a torrid time of it with Finn and his night terrors which lie dormant for weeks on end but when they do surface can be quite alarming. This time was the worst he's been, screaming and demanding to get out the house then screaming more in the small garden and wanting to get out and over to the pool, even in the dark. He would not be placated and he wouldn't wake out of it. I went with him across to the pool the second time it happened and he did waken up as we went through the gate although there was no sudden realisation that he was suddenly awake, just a calming down of the hysterics and gradually awareness that he was out of the house. Needless to say we didn't get a great sleep, keeping an ear out for Finn rousing and starting once again. Angus got up too and was sick, after demanding Sean, his roommate for the evening, get him glasses of water which he gulped down. It was a rough night with various changes in bed personnel before we were done.

Finn was tired but recovering by Sunday morning, with no memory of his wanderings of the night before. The boys had discovered the Uno card game and were enjoying it, led by Finn who had been taught it at school. As midday approached we decided to head into Malaga for the afternoon. The drive in was fine but just as we approached where I wanted to park the road system threw us, taking us further and further away. Eventually we looped back round and got parked. From there it was a short walk up to the cathedral square and a stop for a lazy Sunday lunch, shaded from the fierce afternoon sun.

After an ice-cream stop we passed the ruined semi-amphitheatre of the Teatro Romano but Finn was starting to flag so Sharon elected to take him and Angus back to Mijas. Sean and Rowan joined me for a climb up inside the walls of the Alcazaba. It's ten years since Sharon and I were surprised by the views and the feeling of calm that pervades as you climb up into the cool Moorish interiors with their neat gardens and formal pools. Rowan didn't necessarily exude that same feeling of calm but he and Sean had a good time exploring the walls and archways and gardens with me. We eventually found our way barred and returned back down to the Jardines de Pedro Luis Alonso to the car. The drive back to Mijas was a lot easier in the daylight compared to our late arrival on the previous Sunday.

Back in Mijas we had a great evening to ourselves by the pool which led to skinny dipping by the boys with Sean showing his much improved dive. After all this, Finn was once again fraught going to sleep and repeated his terrors of the previous evening, perhaps not quite so severe but still beyond the norm of the ones he has at home. It seems as though the combination of the tummy bug and the foreign location have brought some stress to the surface and we can only hope he calms down again soon.

Donkey

On Thursday afternoon we returned to Urbanizacion Voltacado and successfully located the Johnston's villa. We had a splendid afternoon relaxing, chatting and nibbling by their pool with Carol and Mark and their friends Gary and Nicola while the combined families played pool and in the pool. Their villa, booked through Mijas Villas was one of the newer vast, airy, tiled affairs with plenty of space to roam around in and a large garden with pool. Eve showed Sean up by doing multiple cartwheels although I didn't know Sean could do a one-handed cartwheel. And his headstand is coming on well too.

Once back in our own holiday house and after a light dinner (everyone had been grazing all afternoon) I headed into Mijas Pueblo myself for an evening stroll. The town was lively with stalls and a band playing in the main square and plenty of people eating and wandering about. I came across a flamenco exhbition in the Alcazabar then wandered slightly off the beaten track to the western end of town. This is more "tipico" and less touristy, with the houses piled up the slope of the mountain on top of one another. After the hubbub of the town centre it was remarkably quiet despite the density of dwellings and I stopped to survey the view to the plains below with peace only broken by the tolling of the bells signalling the hour and the occasional dog bark.

I followed a track that wound round the cliff beneath the bull ring, the hills below tumbling away towards Fuengirola and was surprised to find a very rustic stable in the lee of the bluff with a couple of the many donkeys being stabled for the night. The ubiquitous horses and donkeys and traps that circumnavigate the streets of Mijas have to live somewhere I suppose. There are plenty tethered under the concrete concourse by the main square but I suspect that is a temporary holding area rather than their permanent home. The track carried on and took me beneath the Alcazabar and back to civilisation as dusk fell. On my drive home I nearly piled into the back of a herd of donkeys on the winding Coin road, a feeble red light the only indication they were on the road ahead of me as they were herded across the lane to a back road at the very top of Mijas.

Lazy days in the sun

The remaining days followed a similar pattern to the first. The boys would get up en masse, the DVD player would go on, always slightly too loudly for me to be able to sleep through and Sharon would sleep on, having been disturbed by Angus falling out of the bed in the night, or Rowan thumping his way through the house in search of the toilet or Finn sleepwalking. Angus would typically refuse his cereal while the others mucked about and laughed and ate their toast and jam and fruit and pestered us to go to the pool. The advantage of not having a pool as part of the property is that we aren't worried about Rowan or Angus walking out the door and falling in: the downside is that one of the adults must be with the children to take them over to the top pool. The trips to the pool were generally late morning, up until lunchtime and then again late in the afternoon, before dinner.

The boys enjoyed jumping in with Edie and Sharon bought them more pool toys: noodles (long floats that allowed Rowan and Angus to ride them like horses into the deep end), water pistols (they didn't play with these much) and goggles and masks. Finn's flippers mysteriously disappeared on day one, to our annoyance. Edie and Oscar shared their inflatable crocodile and rubber ring too, so their was plenty to occupy the boys in the pool as well as sunbeds on which they could rest and dry off in the sun. Sharon and I read and joined the boys in the pool and took it in turns to prepare lunch and dinner, passing the time and not worrying about being a slave to the clock. Things have turned a corner with Angus now being old enough that we don't need to worry about naps, nappies and strict routine, although he is still in night-time pull-ups and has chosen to go "for a wee lie-down" most days after his morning stint in the pool. The heat and the late nights have disrupted all the boys to some extent, so it's important to relax when we can.

On Tuesaday afternoon we had a fruitless search for Carol and Mark Johnston's holiday villa in the neighbouring Urbanizacion Voltacado, trawling past numerous sprawling, gated houses in the baking heat. Giving up, we returned to Mijas Pueblo for a wander around and a stop for ice-cream, eventually, after a fruitless search amidst the stairs and terraces of the Alcazabar area. We visited the playpark with possibly the best view of any we've been to, up by the oval bull-ring. Sharon decided to re-attempt to locate Carol's villa with Angus and got lucky. Seeing a curtain twitch she buzzed a gate and found them. Angus spent the rest of the afternoon throwing dive sticks for Cameron and Tom (Gary and Nicola, friends of the Johnstons, were sharing the villa) and having a great time.

For Wednesday lunch we drove down to Cala de Mijas, some 30 minutes' drive from the house down to the A-7 and along towards Marbella. The heat by the beach was only slightly attenuated by the onshore breeze blowing through the beach umbrellas and sunbeds. There was far more people about than we had been used to up in the mountains and my feeling, which the others agreed with, was that we preferred the quieter environs of our villa (quieter that is, when Rowan isn't clamouring endlessly in excited squeals by the pool) to the business of the beach.

That said, the boys had a fine lunch of pizza and pasta bolognese and burgers; all very tasty, according to the recipients. My salade grande was less so. By and large, the food we bought and prepared ourselves was far tastier, in my opinion, than the food in the resturants. Maybe our choice of establishment was the cause or maybe the economic woes of Spain have dictated that cheap food now tastes like cheap food whereas once you could be assured of tasty fare at reasonable prices. Now, if you want decent food you have to pay for it.

Rowan and Angus had a play on the ship climbing frame, we had another of many ice-lollies (hours have been spent selecting ice-creams and poring over lolly boards) then Rowan and I visited a supermarket while the rest headed home. In the evening Sharon escaped into Mijas for a stroll about without children and to sit down for a much-needed coffee. She reported the town had a great vibe in the evening, with people sitting out, enjoying their food and chatting as the evening wore on. We had a fine dinner on the balcony ourselves, seared tuna, octopus with chorizo and egg, ratatouille and potatoes, washed down with wine and the quiet sussurations of the trees around us.

Settling in to Villa Cantarranas

Sunshine! The late night didn't throw the boys out of their inner clock, unfortunately, so it was pretty much their usual wake-up time when the round of scraping chairs, thumping feet and sibling squabble began. The main difference was it was gloriously sunny outside and warm!

Breakfast was served on the balcony looking out over cypresses and through palm trees to the hazy hinterland dotted with villas and fincas that stretched from Fuengirola up to Mijas Pueblo. To our left, half-glimpsed through the foilage, across a small car park, was the so-called top or small swimming pool shared by the 180 houses of the Urbanizacion. To the right, beyond the barbecue and chimineria on the balcony, rose the Sierra de Alpujata, blue-brown in the morning haze. As balcony views go, it is up there with the Rome Cavilieri Hilton as the best we've had. And it was so quiet! Apparently many of the houses of the Urbanizacon are owner-occupied and only a few are let out, so the population at any given time is quite low.

The boys were clamouring for the pool so we got the gear together, begin the sun-cream ritual, and trooped over to the "privado" pool. Snag. The gate appeared to be locked and we had no key! We soon found a side gate and there was a button to press to open the main gate so panic was averted. A family from London had just arrived too, Axel and Jane with their children Edie and Oscar. Axel's mother owned the terraced house right by the side gate so between us we had the prime locations for access to the pool.

The boys were quickly in their stride, second skins on (and armbands for Angus) and into the water. The kidney-shaped pool was fairly deep at one end, ideal for Sean and Finn to start jumping in once their confidence grew. Sharon went in search of a big supermarket and ended up a lot further away than she intended, driving all the way to Marbella to do a "big shop" that would see us through most of the week. She eventually returned to prepare us a sandwich lunch on the balcony then the boys settled into their routine of quiet play indoors with iPods and such like as the afternoon sun reached its hottest.

After a second trip to the pool, we changed and drove into Mijas Pueblo, eventually finding parking down a side street. The memory of visiting it from our stay in Mijas Costa back in October 2007 came back as we trooped into the small network of streets around the town centre, passing donkeys and traps and the usual selection of arts, crafts and leather goods shops. We climbed up a steep staircase and found El Capricho, where we had eaten back in 2007. Its frontage is unassuming, a doorway leading on to a staircase, but once up and inside there is a terrace with a splendid view back over the town up to the encircling mountains. The boys were beginning to flag, their late Sunday night catching up with them, so their enthusiasm for the tasty (though expensive) calamari, gazpacho and seafood paella was low with only Sean showing any real vigour. Rowan insisted on listening to Harry Potter on an iPod.

We eventually took leave (and Finn left his iPod behind - fortunately Sharon was able to claim it the next day) and ushered the children back down to the cars to take them home to bed. Sharon and I were then able to enjoy the peace of the balcony in the twilight and subsequent dusk, watching the swallows darting across the darkening sky and then, as the stars struggled to pierce the last vestiges of daylight, bats traced a more erratic route across the rooftops. It was good to sit with a glass of wine and forget all the troubles of the world.

Long haul to Mijas

After much excitement in the build-up to leaving, not helped by the atrocious weather which has kept the boys penned indoors for large parts of the week, we got up at 7am on Sunday and got the boys dressed, breakfasted and on the road south. With the Scottish school holidays in full swing, but the English ones yet to start, it made plenty sense to book flights from Manchester, as it was around £600-700 cheaper. The down side is a three and a half hour drive to England. Fortunately the torrential rains of the previous 24 hours had abated and driving conditions were much safer and easier than they might have been.

We stopped at Westmoreland services to appease Angus's cries and Finn's sore tummy. They had an excellent soft play area which afforded the boys a chance to let off steam along with their snack. Seventy five minutes later we were at Manchester Airport. We took advantage of the meet and greet Park and Go service and were soon through baggage check-in and security. At first there appeared to be just a bit of a delay to the flight departure and Rowan was becoming increasingly erratic in maintaining attention, running off, hiding under seats and generally not doing what he was told, which is always guaranteed to drive us daft.

Presently, however, it became apparent that there was more than a slight delay. The departure board changed to "More info at 1500" then 1600 then 1700. We should have been away at 1405. From looking out the gate window it appeared there was some sort of engine fault so I suppose we'd rather be on a late plane that flies that on a plane that doesn't get there at all. There was a soft play by the gate and the boys ran themselves ragged, especially Rowan and Angus, who was his usual sweaty self within minutes.

The delay afforded some viewing of the Wimbledon final elsewhere in the terminal. Andy Murray had become the first Briton in 74 years to make the final and was in with a chance of becoming the first Briton since the legendary Fred Perry in 1936 to win the title. He even took the first set off Roger Federer, perhaps the greatest player of the modern era. Alas, as soon as I started watching (not that I'm overly superstitious as a sports spectator, but my viewing of Murray inevitably seems to coincide with his downfall), Federer pinched the second set and a marathon game midway through the third on Murray's serve looked like it would be pivotal. By this time we were in a Frankie & Benny's restaurant, feeding the boys courtesy of meal vouchers from Monarch Airlines. Eventually we were told we would be leaving at 1745 and duly boarded a new plane that had flown in from Faro, only to then be told that fifty of the bags had been misplaced in the transfer and were now being located. It was around 1900 before we took off, some five hours late.

The boys were remarkably patient and relatively well behaved given the boredom of the delay. Finn did well on the flight, not getting too wound-up on take-off and Rowan and Angus were contained. But it was after 2300 local time as we approached southern Spain on a cloudless night. Angus looked out and said "Spain has sparkles on top" as he surveyed the night-lights from the air. Meantime, Andy Murray had lost to Federer, who had claimed his seventh Wimbledon title and his record 17th grand slam title in all.

Once the bags were collected we located our malagacar.com rep who directed us to a bus-stop from where we were transported to the car hire offices. I dealt with the paperwork while Sharon kept the boys amused with a snack out front. We picked up our two cars, a white Toyota Aris for Sharon and a smaller white Seat for me, and drove off into the night, heading west along the E-15 towards Fuengirola. I had Finn and Rowan with me and we managed the initial junctions well so that we made it along to the A-387 in good time before starting the low gear climb up to Mijas Pueblo. The road then took us above Mijas Pueblo, granting us a first glimpse of the spectacular view back down towards the coast as the Coin road wound around the spurs of the Sierra Mijas. From the west end of Mijas I was able to cut back to the edge of town then bear right down the hill and back up into the Urbanizacion Mijas La Nueva. A few bends later and we pulled into the dark, silent car park behind the Villa Cantarranas.

No sign of Sharon, who had left before me. Rowan and Finn were a bit spooked by the cicadas chirruping in the dark and I struggled to locate the key under various flowerpots around the outside of the house. I found it at last and was able to open the door and put on some much needed lights. Fortunately, Sharon arrived soon after, having missed a turn or two but, with Sean as navigator, she had managed to get back on track without too much trouble.

So, after midnight, we were able to get the luggage in, decide on who was sleeping where and have a brief look out from the balcony to the twinkling lights of the Costa del Sol laid out below us. Here's hoping for a peaceful and happy holiday.

Sharjah and home

Pete and Tracy are renting one of the many massive mansions that line the streets of the UAE. With four-metre high ceilings and plenty of floor space, it seemed big enough to fit our house into a couple of rooms. There is very little garden since, as Pete pointed out, looking after one is too much work in this climate. They have a small pool at the front and Jamie, Helen and Michelle have been making the most of it, their swimming improving on a daily basis. We ate out by the pool in the evening we arrived, the heat still warping the air.

On the Tuesday, I didn't venture out the house! I got into reading magazines and cookbooks and just enjoying having the time to do so, without worrying about shopping, cooking, cleaning or looking after the boys. That said, Helen adopted me as soon as she came home. We had to "draw wishes" in a Dora the Explorer annual. Unlike Rowan, her peer, Helen was very into writing and telling coherent stories (Rowan's tales usually descend into superheroes and baddies and abstract flights of fancy pretty quickly). Jamie is also an avid reader, unlike his peer Finn, who given the choice of sitting sucking his thumb or reading a book would take the digit option most times. Sometimes Sharon and I wonder if we are encouraging or pushing our boys hard enough academically. But they have to be want to do it.

We had a fantastic Sri Lankan curry in the evening cooked by Pete and Tracy's part-time housemaid earlier in the day and a relaxing drink in the lounge. Pete is working while we're over, unfortunately, so the evenings are his only chance to see us. Wednesday followed a similar vein to Tuesday, with Sharon continuing to pile through the Hunger Games trilogy while I began Stephen King's Dark Tower series.

Once the children were home we headed into downtown Sharjah where the university and administrative buildings were magnificent in their architecture, more classical and less glass and steel then in Dubai. Sharjah has its share of towering office blocks and apartments too. It's hard to believe that there are enough businesses and workers to fill all the office space. We stopped at the Blue Souq for a wander round the shops which were notably more local than the familiar names that populated the Mall of the Emirates in Dubai. Sharon eventually bought a camel soft toy for Finn. We earlier bought a pad for Sean and a toy "boom-box" for Angus that plays a selection of Arabic ditties. Rowan got some Ben 10 twistable pencils and Jumeirah wristbands (Rowan likes a wristband).

Next we drove closer to the coastal parts of the city, where docks and ports and tower-block lined drives swept round artifical bays. We stopped at the Al Qasba canal area to meet Pete while the kids played in the playpark, curiously juxtaposed with the concrete monoliths of surrounding multi-storeys. Dinner was a huge mezze of Middle Eastern dishes in a nearby restaurant - very tasty and extremely filling! We drove back to do some packing as we had a relatively early start on the Thursday morning. We bade our farewells and headed by taxi to Dubai airport. Despite the many lanes, progress to the airport was slow, speeding up slightly once we crossed into Dubai with its even more lanes.

Our flight was delayed inordinately on the runway, sitting for an hour and a quarter before we finally took off. Whilst not quite as comfortable as the A380, the 777 was still a pleasant ride as we made our way back up the Arabian Gulf, over Iraq and Turkey and across Europe to Britain. Such was the delay at Dubai our transfer from Terminal 3 to 1 was fraught and close to the cut-off time. Not surprisingly, one of the cases didn't make the transfer in time so were a case light when Michael picked us up at Edinburgh.

Edinburgh had been enjoying indifferent weather in our absence but the sun came out for our homecoming. The boys were delighted to see us, and us them. I was away from them for 11 days, which is the longest separation since Sean was born. Angus was running about the garden, soaked from the hose, as we dined on the patio. It was good to be home.

Pierchic finale

After the Saturday activities, Sunday was a much quieter affair, as it generally is on a Pampered Chef trip, once all the Level 1 and 2 achievers depart. Back home though, Finn was having a much more exciting time of it. He was one of three Beavers picked from his colony to go to Longcraig at South Queensferry for a special day of activities for the Beavers and Cubs of the South Morningside troop. Along with Rory Fletcher, he made a tomahawk and a head-dress and then was surprised by the special visitor for the day who flew in by helicopter: Chief Scout Bear Grylls! Sharon and I knew this was what was planned, but we hadn't told Finn. The Cubs and Beavers got to talk to him. Finn got a signed photo. Between this and holding the Olympic torch earlier in the year, Finn probably doesn't appreciate he's had a couple of special occasions recently.

Back in the 40-degree plus heat of Dubai, we had a lazy day after a late breakfast in the airy and stylish restaurant of the Al Qasr Hotel, a short abra trip away from the Mina A'Salam. We read and lounged about until late afternoon when we got dressed up for our last evening out. We boarded an abra just after sunset, the lights of the hotels and apartments of the Madinat resort reflecting off the water as we made the short journey to the end of the private beach across from the Al Qasr Hotel. From there we walked out a broad wooden pier to the exclusive Pierchic restaurant, the Burj Al Arab billowing splendidly in the twilight further up the coast. After a drinks reception on the terrace we moved indoors. Surprisingly perhaps, there was no view of the Burj Al Arab from the interior, but the food had our undivided attention, being splendidly presented and delightful in taste. We were seated with Hannah and Gav and Tracy Campbell and her mother. Part way through the meal there was a proposal (accepted) in the party which set the cap on the romantic ambience of the meal, the company and the location. The stroll back along the pier was leisurely then we had a swift buggy ride back to the Mina A'Salam from where a good few of us met up in the McLeish's room for a last hurrah.

On the Monday morning we located yet another breakfast room but foolishly opted to sit outside in the already stifling heat. The rest of the party departed for their flights home while we took our time packing and easing out of Pampered Chef mode, being able to indulge in a late check-out at 3pm. Our taxi to Sharjah was a massive black vehicle, almost Hummeresque in size and very comfortable in size. The directions sent by Pete were eventually digested by the driver who dropped us at the Kavanagh's residence in the Al Goaz district of Sharjah.

Long hot Saturday

I was up early on the Saturday morning for a golf date withe Pete. So early, in fact, that I was first in the restaurant for breakfast at 0630. Having enjoyed that, fortification for the day ahead, I got a taxi out to the Els Club in Dubai Sports City for 7.30 to meet Pete and knock some balls on the range. It was unpleasantly warm even then as I adjusted to the hire clubs. Fortuntely we had buggies, otherwise I would have been done for by the first tee. Joining us to make up a four, it turned out, was David Provan and Paul Darling, fellow PC guests from Sharon's team.

The course was long and set up for a competition that was off straight after us. Pins behind bunkers on 200 yard par threes with lightning greens weren't going to do us any favours. I struggled all day, managing only one par and pretty much giving up the ghost as the mercury passed the 40 degree mark. The fairways were cut through a half-occupied estate of identikit cube-shaped villas, and bounded by sandy wasteland. Enter there at your peril. The temperature rose even higher if you dared seek a wayward drive amidst the scrub. By the end I was capable of raising the club and letting it fall on the ball, not to much effect. The others fared better by degrees but the Bermuda grass and hogs back greens and 6800 yards and desert heat were too much for me!

I bade Pete farewell and taxied back to the Madinat with David and Paul. Sharon had a bot of a late night and then a morning working out in the, fortuntely, air-conditioned gym. We ended up having a lazy afternoon, me more so than Sharon who headed out while I caught up with some much-needed zeds.

After 4pm we reconvened in reception, by the pool of petals, beneath the domed ceiling with its map of the UAE painted on it, before transferring to our Toyota Landcruisers for the drive into the desert. On the way we passed a lorry, recently tipped over on the road - not the most heartening sight before taking to the dunes in a high-powered car!

We paused briefly to let the air out the tyres, so that the cars would have more traction through the soft sand, then we reloaded the cars and were off, the anthill mob following one another over the dunes. Our driver was good fun and up for a bit of egging on, more so than some of the others who were going through the motions. It wasn't particularly life-threatening but we had a few slides and jolts and near misses with the lethargic driver in front as we would our way deeper into the dunes. Eventually we stopped in the desert for some refreshments as the sun dipped sharply towards the horizon. Sharon and I, and Hannah and Gavin and Alain and Graham, clambered on to the backs of some camels to lead the party up and over a dune in the dusk, to enter the caravanserai which was the scene for the evening's entertainment. The camel ride was more alarming than the dune bashing and I think I ended up with mild whiplash as the camel plunged to its knees, Sharon yelling in front of me.

We were seated at long tables in the open air, beneath the desert sky. Many of the ladies availed themselves of the henna tattoos that were on offer, in between partaking of the barbecued meats, curries and various Middle Eastern dishes that were being served up. In the midst of it all we were treated to some belly dancing. Fortunately, this didn't turn into audience participation - we were content to watch the two dancers do their thing. One was considerably better than the other. After the festivities we slowly cleared the camp and returned to the jeeps. Again, some drivers were more up for it than others: slaloming through the sand (because, our driver claimed, he was driving on full tyres and needed to keep swerving to avoid being stuck) and driving for prolonged periods with their lights off - a rather scary prospect in the black night of the desert.

Once back at the hotel, a few went in search of TV coverage of the Champions League Final while we went to Anne Marie's room. I had to content myself with watching the penalty shoot out by crowd reaction. The best CNN could do was film people's reactions as they watched the denoument in bars in Germany and Kenya. As it happened, Chelsea won. It was a long and tiring day in the sun for me.

Dubai days one and two

Many's the time I've castigated the England cricket team (and other sporting emissaries from the UK on fruitless trips abroad) for their poor performance in locations such as Sri Lanka and India and Australia, unaware of just quite how debilitating it is to walk, let alone attempt to play sport at a high level, in 40-degree heat with a touch of humidity thrown in.

Well now I know. It has been incredibly hot here in the UAE, to the extent that doing nothing, or at the very least doing something in the safer and cooler confines of an air-conditioned interior, is the preferred option. We arrived after an extremely comfortably overnight Emirates flight from Heathrow (but with a minimum of sleep) and were processed through the first of many brand, spanking new buildings at Dubai Airport. The first taste of heat, at 0730, was as we left the terminal and moved to the coach for the transfer to the Madinat Mina A'Salam Hotel, part of the Jumeirah resort, looking out to the distinctive sail-like structure of the Burj Al Arab Hotel, the definitive landmark of Dubai tourism.

The drive from the airport along the Sheikh Zayed Road took us past the fabulous towers lining that 12-lane highway: tall, narrow structures fronted with tinted glass and subtle variations in angles and skeletal infrastructure but all dwarfing the street-level life that scurried around their roots. The unbelievable dimension of the world's tallest man made structure, the Burj Khalifa, rose behind them like some science-fiction space-port, growing ever narrower and climaxing in a needle-like mast that pierced the clouds some 828 metres above sea level.

More mundanely, we breakfasted by the channel that circumnavigates the Madinat hotels, realising how hot the day was becoming. Our rooms weren't ready till the afternoon, so we killed the time on the beach, sweltering under shades and trying to sleep without waking up roasted. "Ye's'll be like rashers," our Cork air-stewardess had pronounced succintly on the flight over. I dozed and sweated and got grumpy. Sharon just dozed and sweated. Some swam in the sea, which was a bit like swimming in warm soup on subsequent days but quite refreshing on this first day, exhilirating in the pounding surf. I didn't swim. I didn't want to even move. I got burnt in the few minutes heading to the toilet from the shade and the sand was liable to singe the flesh on your feet.

Eventually we got our room keys and moved tot he sanctuary of air-conditioned five-star hotel life. It was some 20 degrees cooler in the rooms. Opening the doors to the balcony was like opening an oven door, a thick stew of Arabian air challenging the cold air of the room. However, we didn't stay there for long (and besides, the hotel had misplaced our luggage) so we took a taxi with Anne-Marie to the Mall of the Emirates, the smaller of Dubai's vast shopping malls, to the Carrefour supermarket. Sharon was conscious of being underdressed (due to our luggage misplacement) having moved from private beach to public retail outlet and received a few disapproving looks from the white-clad Emiratis. As ever, the supermarket had a splendid selection of fruit and veg but elsewhere the mall displayed some very familiar names: from Next to Debenhams! Once loaded up with snacks and mixers, we queued for a taxi back to the hotel.

Our luggage finally appeared. After a brief rest, we dressed for the reception dinner. Despite the sun having gone down around 7pm, the air was no cooler. We crossed the road in front of the hotel entrance to the Fort area which was reminiscent of a Legoland Arabian-themed area set in a very warm climate. It's no use pining for authentic, quaint, original buildings in Dubai - the oldest structure in the city is reputedly 32 years old. The roll call of achievers was run through, with Hannah the top points earner and Tracy, another of Sharon's downline and a first time trip achiever, second. There was the usual exhortations to bigger and better things next year and then we attacked the buffet. Fortunately I was on water (and have been for some time, owing to the prevalance of gout attacks) as to drink alcohol in such temperatures would be to invite illness, in my view. Sharon didn't quite see it that way. In Dubai you cannot buy alcohol outside of hotels. There are no off-licences nor non-hotel bars as such, hence everyone had arrived with a healthy quota of duty-free purchases as the only places to drink were in hotel bars and restaurants or in private.

We had a great sleep in our vast bed. The air-conditioning was reasonably quiet and the temperature control was spot on. We met others down in the Mina A'Salam for breakfast then got on an abra, a small wooden boat holding about 8 passengers, for a tour of the resort. There are wonderful villas and gardens in our section of the Jumeirah resort, as well as two Hotels, the Mina A'Salam and the Al Qasr, a souk (market) and anywhere between 29 and 42 restaurants, according to the literature.

We alighted at the Madinat souk and once more escaped indoors. The high, vaulted ceilings of the interior meant the winding marketplace was pleasantly cool but I was still feeling rather worn out so I retired to the hotel room after a brief browse around the shops. Sharon went on and had a salad lunch. I dozed. Our next appointment was the "Old" Dubai tour, leaving the hotel at 3.15pm. We crossed the Dubai Creek to the older part of town, to the Gold Souk. Here we entered the darkened, L-shaped market where upwards of fifty jewellers and goldsmiths sell some of the 20% or so of the world's gold that is traded through Dubai. Many hawkers, vast choice of jewellry, no women to be seen; only men. To be honest, there is so much stuff it would be impossible to browse, even if you had the time, which we did not, being marched through at a fair lick. You really would have to know what you were looking for. The Gold Souk sells 18, 21 and 22-carat gold, the last being unusual and generally not to Western tastes, as it looks more yellow and "fake" than the paler, lower carat gold preferred by Europeans.

We moved on to the Spice Souk next which was more to our liking. Again, a couple of dark alleys full of shops with sacks of spices and dried fruits and herbs, a wonderful aroma filling the narrow lane. There were wonderful dried, black lemons which, when puncutured, released a deep citrus scent. We didn't get far before Sharon was in and conversing with a salesman who fairly shovelled the curry powder and vanilla pods into bags. A little obligatory bartering, which Sharon loves and which I, of course, can't stand, and then we were on our way. Another short walk in the afternoon heat and then we were on an abra across the creek. The short journey to the other bank and slightly down-creek was reminiscent of what I'd imagine Venice (the destination for next year's trip) to be like. From there we made our way past shuttered shops, Friday being the holy day and many places closing up, up to the Dubai Museum. At first sight this was a paltry offering, but moving down from the sun-bleached open-air entrance arena to the darker, cooler interior shifted the level of interest, although parts were too dark to actually see in. It was a bit like Ailwee Cave in County Clare! The last port of call was a restaurant called "local restaurant" or something similar, that sold camel burgers. None of that for us, but a refreshing drink and chance to lounge about in cool rooms on rugs and have a chat. Eventually some ice-cream which may or may not have been made from camel's milk did arrive. It was a very relaxing hour or so.

From there it was back to the hotel and a quick turnaround to get in taxis and head back towards Downtown Dubai, to a restaurant called Fazaris at a hotel called The Address. Unfortunately our taxi driver wasn't quite sure where he was headed and a massive traffic jam caused by the breaking at the end-of-the-holy-day delayed us from getting to the restuarant in time for the booking. This wasn't a problem however, and we made our way through the very stylish hotel to meet up with the others, including Pete and Tracy who had booked the meal.

It was good to see the pair of them, ex-pats now based in Sharjah, looking in fine fettle. The food was good and the added bonus was a middle distance view of the fountain show at the foot of the all-conquering Burj Khalifa, towering above us into the hazy night sky, the ultimate statement of manmade Dubai City. Sharon enjoyed sashimi and a Goan prawn curry, while I had tomato soup and lamb rogan josh. Afterwards we returned to the Mina A'Salam, me to bed and Sharon to someone's room for a late snifter. A busy couple of days!

Preamble in London

I flew down to London around teatime on Sunday and made my way in to Green Park tube station as I was staying at the Washington Mayfair in Curzon St. in advance of the Gartner Enterprise Architecture Summit on Monday and Tuesday. Having muddled up the air-con I ended up with a most unpleasant, warm night which felt like climate training for Dubai later in the week.

The walk to work on Monday morning was a pleasant one however: across Green Park and the Mall, then through St. James' Park and past Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament before crossing the Thames at Westminster Bridge. The summit was in the Park Plaza Hotel which looks across the bridge to Big Ben. I stayed in the Park Plaza last year but cutbacks have decreed it is too expensive for me to stay in this year. London was grey and showery and chilly, in keeping with the gloomy economic forecasts that surround work these days.

The conference was worthwhile, more practical and less theoretical than some of the Gartner output of recent times, and I was able to chat with a few of my peers too. At the close of play on Monday I took a long walk back, cutting along Whitehall to Trafalgar Square and then up Haymarket to Regent St and Oxford St, doing a little light shopping with an eye on Dubai. I eventually turned down to Mayfair, passing Claridges and Berkeley Square which was lined with a far higher proportion of Bugattis than I'm generally used to in Fairmilehead.

I dined out in The Little Square in the Shepherd Market just across the road from the hotel, a great little hideaway of restaurants and boutique shops in the heart of Mayfair. On Tuesday I was greeted with rain as I checked out the hotel, so I caught the tube to Waterloo prior to the conference. After the summit ended I was back at Waterloo to catch the train to Mortlake (after a mis-routing to Barnes Bridge) to stay with Ali and Gordon for the evening. Splendid company as ever, with Innes now a stomping 18 months old, competing for attention with Megan and Freya.

Wednesday was my day off, so I returned to the city centre, blagged my bags into the concierge at the Park Plaza ("Yes, I've just checked out. Room 319.") and set off on a wander. I headed down Abingdon St, round the side of the Palace of Westminster and was impressed at the detail on the Sovereign's Entrance - reminiscent of Notre Dame Cathedral or Il Duomo in Milan. Buckingham Palace was slightly obscured by temporary seating which has been erected for the Diamond Jubilee celebrations in three weeks' time but I still saw the changing of the guard.

Predictably, I headed to Kensington Whole Foods for a perusal of the food on offer and made a selection for lunch. Next I found myself a book for Dubai (it took a long time to find a bookshop in central London - the disintermediation of booksellers by Amazon and supermarkets continues) then I sat in a pleasant burst of sunshine in a park by Victoria Embankment next to Charing Cross, watching two elderly people play table tennis.

The "me time" was over. It was time to recover my luggage and get on a busy tube to meet my wife at Heathrow Airport...

Auchenlarie break

The boys were desperate to get on their Easter break, after passing the first week of their school holiday. I picked up my new car from the Patersons and decided to break it in with a drive down to Dumfries and Galloway, taking Sean with me, while Sharon made the journey in the Sharan with the rest of the lads.

We were staying at Auchenlarie Holiday Park or, more precisely, across the road from the park, in a luxury lodge that had three bedrooms and, most importantly from the boys' perspective, a hot-tub! Auchenlarie is about two miles past Gatehouse of Fleet on a site that slopes fairly steeply down to the sea. The centre of the park was across the busy A75 and down the hill. This is where the swimming pool, leisure centre and bar/restaurant were located, along with the entertainment. We weren't quite brave enough to partake of the entertainment although Sharon witnessed some real "entertainment" as she made her way back from the gym one evening - a right barney going on. We did venture into the restaurant on the first evening, which was fine, had a swim on the last day and the smaller boys were in the soft play a couple of times too.

The boys were able to practice their cycling on the wooden deck and farm road by our lodge ("Lilac Lodge") and we were in the hot tub on a few occasions. The first time I though Angus was going to come out cooked! Given the general greyness of the weather, it was most pleasant to sit in the heated tub with a view south towards the Isle of Man, watching a variety of shower clouds scythe across the Irish Sea.

There was plenty for us to get on with despite the indifferent weather. First off we headed to Cream of Galloway. This featured a great go-kart course. I took Rowan, who, true to daredevil form, was standing up, yelling, as we plunged down steep inclines towards low-roofed tunnels, so he could bump his helmeted head off the tunnel roof. Sharon took Angus, who similarly had a great time as a passenger. Sean went on his own but struggled on the climbs and Finn abstained, as is Finn's way. Sean did "down the hatch", as did I, a disconcerting feet-first barrel plunge in which you feel you are dropping out the sky before it levels off and you crawl out in an undignified manner. Sean also did the Flying Fox and we all went on the 3-D maze and other adventure playground parts. Lunch was tasty too, local burgers and ice-cream.

We went to the RSPB centre at Mersehead for a scavenger hunt where, once again, Finn impressed with his knowledge of birds and their calls. Despite the long drive to get there we had a great time looking for the items on the hunt, Sean and I jogging on to the beach when it looked as though we were going to run out of time.

Another day was spent at Mabie Farm Park south of Dumfries, where we met Rachael Ridley and her son Owen. In between the showers the boys looked at the animals and played in the indoors barn but the highlights were the hay barn, where the boys were swinging on ropes and jumping off bales while having hay fights with Sharon and Rachael (don't think it did my asthma much good), and the grass slide. I apparently went airborne, which I can ratify with the thump my coccyx received. Even Finn joined in, no doubt shamed that his younger brothers were quite prepared to get on their shovels and slide down. Afterwards, we drive around the Southerness peninsula with its stunning views south to Cumbria, to Rockcliffe. The boys had dozed off and were grumpy to a man, so I undertook the short but interesting walk through the woods to Kippford - just in time for the rain to come tipping down! I was soaked and had little opportunity to enjoy the views. Sharon drove round to Kippford to join me at the Anchor Hotel where we had a great, relaxed dinner in the back room with lots of other families and everyone in fine form. Definitely one of the highlights of the week.

But there's more! I took the boys to Cardoness Castle in Gatehouse of Fleet and we went to the local market in Creetown where we gave the boys some money to spend and watched as they made their choices round the various stalls. Finn, bless him, spent his last 50p on a cake for his Mammy. He can be so mean at times, to Rowan especially, but at other times he is the most generous of the boys. Late one afternoon I drove along to Newton Stewart with Finn and Rowan, to a real old-fashioned cinema, to see The Muppets. It was actually quite an enjoyable film.

My outing with Sean to play golf at a nine-hole course at Tongland near Kirkcudbright wasn't quite such a success however. Sean was fairly hopeless. He probably managed a generous 16 at the first par three hole and it went downhill from there (his golf, as well as the course). My investment in their lessons at Swanston is looking like a sunk cost. I suspect the next term will be their last, as Finn isn't that keen either. They seem to enjoy it with their pals (after moaning about having to go), but neither is showing any interest whatsoever in the sport, or any sport for that matter.

Another day we drove towards Castle Douglas to visit Threave Castle. This required a fairly lengthy walk to the River Dee where the castle sits on an island and has to be reached by boat. Once we got there one of the week's frequent showers darkened the horizon and swept in. We retreated to what little shelter the ruined castle offered as the rain teemed down.

A big treat for the boys was our visit to the Cocoa Bean Company at Twynholm. Entry to this place gets them into a chocolate workshop where they get to make chocolate things and decorate them. It was funny to see them all troop in, from Sean down to Angus, dressed in their aprons and hairnets. It's fair to say they loved it. Rowan could hardly keep his face out of the chocolate!

On our last day we packed up then drove back to Mersehead for a family fun day, meeting up with Jane Wilson and Molly, John and George. Once again we had a great day there, making our way to the beach this time. I really enjoyed supervising the creation of our beach art, a red kite. We joined the RSPB, on a whim rather. The nearest RSPB reserve to us is Vane Farm by Loch Leven in Fife, so I suspect we won't get the use of RSPB membership that we do from the Historic Scotland membership. But Sean's competitive streak won't let Finn be the bird expert in the house and anything we can do to get us all outdoors has to be a good thing.

We had a great week in Dumfries and Galloway despite the indifferent weather. We spent a fair bit but there's lots for the kids too and plenty they'd go back and do again. And with better weather there are lots more walks and beaches to explore. I'm sure we'll be back.

Finn and the flame

Finn held the Olympic torch today at school. It was being shown round the classes. He seemed quite pleased but he perhaps doesn't appreciate yet what a great honour that was. On the sporting front, Finn had a tennis session last week at Craiglockhart through the school. He enjoyed the stations and hitting the ball and probably the change in routine.

Last week Sean was at Dynamic Earth with his class as part of their rainforest project. The next day he was part of a Pentland team of P5's who were at some sort of Maths Fun Day at Merchiston Castle School. It wasn't clear (from Sean) if the 26 schools represented were just from Edinburgh or from further afield. They had to do puzzles but Sean seemed more enthusiastic about the free lunch on offer. Pentland came fifth, according to Sean.

Rowan was at Tae-Kwon Do on Monday for a trial lesson at Gracemount. A martial art could be just what he needs for some discipline and control and he's been daft about Kung Fu ever since watching the Karate Kid. Sharon watched him do some of the drills and reported that he certainly had much greater speed than some of the others. For example, in pairs, you had to touch your partner on the shoulder and avoid him touching you. Rowan was far outscoring his partner. Likewise in an all-fours drill where you had to touch others hands and avoid them touching you. Rowan's great problem is listening so we'll see, if he goes along to this class, if he can crack that. He was a little better at swimming this week, as his teacher got him to lead rather than wait his turn.

Sharon was in Copenhagen at the weekend, meeting up with Ruth and Susan for their annual get together. They had a great time catching up and eating. Copenhagen was expensive but not quite Oslo-expensive. Sharon had time to herself on the Sunday and visited a couple of exhibitions. Meanwhile I oversaw a fairly quiet boys' weekend at home. Golf and soft play on Saturday morning followed by watching St. Mirren salvage a 2-2 draw against Hearts in the Cup quarter-final. On Sunday we were a bit more proactive and headed to Beecraigs country park for a good play in the playground and in the woods. After a Tesco lunch we hunted for trolls in Linlithgow Palace and climbed to the top of the tower before playing tig in the courtyard.

Reunion in the Lake District

It was long overdue but, thanks to the organising efforts of Richard A Brown, the Paisley boys finally met up again at the weekend. Only Jim was unable to make it due to a late change in work plans, but the rest of us congregated in an isolated part of the Lake District to celebrate, well, nothing really! Forty years since most of us started Primary One together at Bushes Primary school in Paisley, with a couple of blow-ins from Lochfield Primary admitted in the interests of embracing diversity.

I drove down on the Friday night, through slashing rain on dark and winding roads. Had I known how close the road around Ullswater was to the lake itself, I may have been a bit more circumspect. As it was, my petrol guage decided to jam at "full" after one particularly steep dip and bend. This is not a useful feature, especially at the end of a long drive in the middle of nowhere in the dark and rain. I drove slowly round the tiny hamlet of Hartsop looking for the cottage Richie had booked. It was very reminiscent of the film Withnail and I when they head for a weekend in the Dales. I could not see the place we were supposed to be staying in and turning and reversing between stone walls and up steep drives was no fun. Eventually I stopped alongside another creeping car and got out in the rain. It was Richie. We retired to the local pub, the Brotherswater Inn, about a half mile up the main road and there we got directions to Brothersfield Cottage. I'm sure comedian Simon Evans came between us to get drinks from the bar. Mind you, it was Richie and I who were comical looking. I was limping a bit from gout and Richie could barely walk due to some orthotics-related leg injury. The farce continued as we tried in vain to get the keys for the cottage from the key safe in the pouring rain. I eventually tried the front door handle and the door opened! In I went to wave to Richie through the window, thinking the place looked a bit basic. On my way out, I suddenly noticed a girl huddled by a coal fire in the sitting room. I explained we had trouble getting in but she seemed non-plussed. It was then I spotted a noticeboard which indicated this was evidently some sort of fell-walkers' bunk-house. We should have been in the house next door.

We duly relocated and found a much more comfortable cottage thirty yards along the road. It was just Richie and me on the Friday night so we got first dibs on the beds. I had a poor sleep though, feverish and gassy by equal measure. At least I got a lie-in for once: our boys always seem to pick Saturday morning for their earliest, most boisterous start of the week. As I was sure I needed petrol, Richie and I drove in convoy over to Windermere up a pass that was 1 in 5, fog-bound and with sheep on the road. With my car replenished we had a cup of tea in Windermere then picked up some essentials for the 24 hours ahead - late night snack food and early morning fatty foods. Vegetables didn't feature high on the agenda. although some tomatoes and mushrooms did make it into the basket. We returned to Brothersfield for a peacful read of the papers before the rest began arriving after midday. Greenie drove in with Niggy and Eggy, at which point we headed along the road to the Brotherswater Inn. Soon Hunter's distinctive thatch of hair was visible above the wall as he and Chubby elected to walk along from the Cottage. The lunchtime crowd ebbed away from the Inn leaving us to get reacquainted and pile in to the beer (I was on tap water). The jukebox was raided a few times and the conversation got a bit lively. We decided to head back to the Cottage about 7pm, with several deciding to walk along the road and path in the dark. I almost ran over Hunter as he stumbled over a wall and almost fell into the road as I drive back.

Once back in the Cottage the guitars came out, were tuned up and old songs were tortured beyond the limits of reasonable adaptation. Food was cooked, Food was eaten. More songs were dredged up until, at two in the morning, everyone was in bed. Some lasted better than others. No-one seemed too bad the next morning but the smell of bacon, Lorne sausages and eggs did set a few jaws trembling and caused a few pairs of cheeks to be puffed out. It was a fine morning as we posed for a group photo and bid our goodbyes. It was good to see everyone again and relive a few moments of our youth, with the school holiday to Austria in 1983 always a source of memories.

I was keen to make the most of the day so Chubby and I parked up at Glenridding and went for a ramble round a rather muddy circular path for an hour and a half before having a tea. It was interesting to hear what he had been up to in his time with National Grid as we've hardly seen each other in the last 25 years, having been frequent playmates in our schooldays. Afterwards I stopped in at the Sun Inn in Pooley Bridge for some lunch, a rather bland and chewy pork belly, before cracking back up the M6 to rejoin the family.

St. Andrews

The forecast for the weekend was for very heavy rain so I decided not to go camping with Sean and Finn this weekend. Instead, I headed up to St. Andrews with all four, to find a window in the weather. There was a carnival on in Market St which was most unlike St. Andrews but there was also a farmer's market and food stalls so we were able to tuck into some burgers, garlic mushrooms and Spanish omelette by way of lunch. After that we had a wander round to the Scores, a play by the bandstand and first tee of the Old Course, then went into Ma Bells where some of my old Uni chums were meeting up. Scott, Steve Dane, Mark Salmon, Jon Lyall and Tom Elliot were all in, and the beer was starting to flow. I could have happily settled in for the afternoon but there were boys to mind so had to settle for a half hour chat before departing to the Castle. My lads had a good play about there then we headed back to thwe car, arriving there just as the first spots of rain spattered on to the pavement.

And how it rained! It poured all the way home, all evening and night and was still going hammer and tongs on the Sunday morning. Scott phoned groggily at 0730 to say there was no chance of playing the golf planned for Drumoig that morning. Instead, I had a lazy morning, save for nipping out to do a food shop, then after lunch I returned to Wester Hailes for a swim with Finn and Sean. Still Finn couldn;t quite bring himself to jump in from the platform, although he teetered on the edge a few times. Sean was very confident in his leaps from both boards and even managed a decent head-first dive off the springboard. No danger of me trying to emulate him!

Sean had quite a few bad nose bleeds yesterday. Off all the boys, he's the only one who seems to suffer from this. Hopefully he won't end up needing his nose cauterised like his Aunty Lesley did many years ago.

Lads on tour

Sean, Finn and Rowan drove down to Tralee after we left, with Adrian in charge. They spent one night at Edel's before moving on to a mobile home in Castlegregory on north side of the Dingle peninsula. Olivia joined them and it sounds like they had a ball, dashing out to the beach and getting buried in the sand. Neither Finn nor Rowan have stayed in a caravan before (and this was a mobile home, not a caravan, they were quick to point out) so I can only hazard a guess at the extent of Rowan's giddiness. There was a play area just yards from the mobile home and the boys were out in the fresh air at every opportunity: the weather was great but why do they have to be dragged out the door when they're with us?

There were wetsuits in the mobile home which fitted the three lads so Adrian had them down to the beach, boogie-boarding. At first he was just aqua-planing them along the wave-slicked sand but, day on day, he got them all further into the water and started them on their way back to shore on waves. They loved it, even Rowan, and even Finn, despite taking a nosedive off the board and doing a somersault under the water. Needless to say they were reluctant to leave the idyll of County Kerry to return to Athlone. Adrian did a fine job feeding them and keeping them entertained.

After a couple of nights back in Athlone, Adrian brought them up to Dublin for the flight back to Edinburgh. Fortunately Finn wasn't as bad as the last time he flew. He wasn't too happy on the way up but at least he wasn't sick and all of them were lively enough when Angus and I went to pick them up at the airport after their 15 days in Ireland. They were glad to be home but hardly seemed to have missed us and had a great start to their summer holidays.