– 8:22 pm

So how was it? The holiday you mean. Thought-provoking question, one your mother and I have pondered about, trying to assess whether this is a destination for parents with a child(ren) your age. We asked ourselves whether we’d ever come back and shook our heads. Another couple we met said the same thing. They had two teenagers and alluded the activities didn’t include ones their kids were interested in.

For us, it was harder to deduce why. You don’t incur any extra costs and the bill is frozen your entire stay whether you order coke or champagne, butter or caviar. There wasn’t any caviar but the food was pretty damn good (even the buffets), and the grounds, public areas and facilities had just been renovated so everything worked. The staff were very friendly (though I wish I wasn’t acknowledged or smiled at as much all the time), and you get a Tesla for a day to explore the region.

So what’s not to like?
Well, you didn’t like the creche (to no noticeable fault of theirs). You made it through two of the three hours scheduled on day one. They called us to pick you up at the last stretch. We didn’t think you’d last ten minutes so we knew it was coming and pleasantly surprised you lasted that long. The second attempt was a disaster and failed before it even started. You burst into tears at the gates, inconsolably so. There was no appeasing you. Not with any of the toys they had there (a lot of which you had at home). You looked so sad, too morose for us to force the issue. So we cancelled that and every other session we had booked. We did notice you were also the only child your age there so you had all the attention, which any other child would love, except you.

Personally, I didn’t like the hotel. I couldn’t believe my eyes driving up to this big beige building. I’d paint it if they’d let me. It just seemed so dull and a wasted opportunity to explore different tones and colour palettes. I expect grey buildings in England, not in Greece. Architecturally speaking, I’ve seen a better-looking block of flats. This had no personality. The only thing I remember about the interior is… wait for it… the beige carpet they had running the hallways. The edges were giving way like the ends of a continuously stepped-on pair of jeans, bubbling like a cheap sweater. I couldn’t believe that wasn’t part of the renovation.

The room itself was a joke. Unimaginative. Terrible use of space, really poor choice of furniture, tacky, deteriorating and not ageing with any grace whatsoever. The finishings lacked detail and attention. For example, the bathroom doors wheeled completely out of place and I found myself trying to fix it. If you looked around the bottom corners and edges, you could see the shabbiness either in the paintwork or the materials used. It’s all a bit shoddy and lacking finesse. Forget how much we paid – hint, it wasn’t cheap – but if this was my place, I’d feel a deep lack of self-pride. Perhaps I’m being a little unfair. (I doubt I am.) Your mother and I stayed at The Grand Park Hotel in Rovinj and The Ritz in Tenerife. The former especially was… Wow!

You’d have to ask your mother what her pet peeves were about the stay. I know for sure she didn’t like fighting for beds poolside or having to call someone because the safe had jammed on day one. I walked away from this one but I think she rightfully lost her poise and had to get some older kids kicked off one of the pool facilities designed for soft play and kids your age. If she kept a score then I don’t know what else she had on her list.

The best day of the entire vacation was made off-prem. We had the free car and drove into Afytos for the day. We didn’t walk for very long and settled at a restaurant called Vouka. They were experiencing a water cut. (We’d seen water flowing into the street walking up the hill presumably from some broken pipes.) The staff were normal (which amplified how exaggerated those at Ikos were). I spoke to the waiter about life in Greece, the economy, money pre and post-COVID etc – small talk. It flowed naturally.

Liza ordered something, Americano I believe and I got an Aperol Spritz which still stands as the best I’ve had to date. (I had a very good Passion Spritz earlier today at the shambles for food and service that is 36 Line in Jurmula but that’s another story.) They were also kind enough to find you an unwashed apple so you were ‘jiggy’ – you’re madly in love with apples at the moment. We don’t know why. You also took a massive shit which was tricky to manage without the option of water. Wet wipes to the rescue.

Eventually, the waiter said we could order food, clearly pointing out those we couldn’t have as they required water to prepare. I went for chargrilled octopus, squid and a ribeye. Oof! So good. I won’t forget the aroma of that steak in a hurry. The seafood was equally magnificent. The sauces were exquisite and clearly, very thoughtfully curated for the dishes they accompanied. I think this place officially sealed your marriage to hummus. You couldn’t stop. You didn’t give us much of a chance with the breadsticks either. They earned every penny of the tip we gave them. From there we drove back with olive oil and bits from the neighbouring local businesses.

Overall I think you were just happy spending time with us. You had mosquito bites the first night, including one dead centre between your eyebrows, like a bindi and very Indian-like. (I was calling wrongfully comparing you to the Dalai Lama for a bit.) But for the entire stay your skin cleared up from the allergies. I’m crediting the food and weather for this. We got to spade the sand by the stony beach and enjoy live music. There were great moments, the greatest of which was your time with Jack and Noah B, aged six and eleven I’m guessing.

We met them at dinner and started talking to their parents David and Sarah. Turns out David used to live literally a few minutes from where we live now. The odds of that are pretty wild – meeting complete strangers in another country who used to live down your road. Wild stuff. We got on really well. They had this authenticity about them. But what was astounding to witness was the chemistry between you and their wonderful kids. Liza and I were in awe of what we were witnessing, all three of you playing, laughing, running around… Beautiful. This continued the next day by the pool. It affirmed you just need the right characters to be social.

Oh and check this, it turns out the couple who also said they wouldn’t return have a ‘small modelling agency’. Their words, not mine. In fact, that was the primary conversation. They were very keen to get you on their books. You get quite a bit of attention wherever we go and while this was the first (to go as far as appearances for money), I doubt it’ll be the last time. They took our contact details but it’ll all be for nothing if not just friendship.

I can see where Liza is coming from when she says she doesn’t want you exposed to this type of vanity so early in your life. She’s a bold no. I’m a bit more “he’s so young he wouldn’t remember” but admittedly it’s a very slippery slope. I think you need some grounding virtues and a stable foundation before ever considering this path. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m thinking if the money you made from this went into something like the S&P500, by the time you’re eighteen… All that said, you do not have to earn your love from us. It will always come unattached and free of charge.

In other news, I’m writing this on a 9 pm flight from Riga back to London. It’s a loud one and there’s just been an unpleasant exchange between a family with kids asleep and a party who just wouldn’t shut it. I can hear them even through noise-cancelling headphones (though it’s more like background noise at this point). Anyway, I piggybacked off Liza’s work trip for the weekend. We miss you terribly. She stayed behind for her event tomorrow. She leaves for Paris thereafter and should be home on Tuesday. You’re currently with your grandparents.

You had your first pretzel during the transit to Greece, in Vienna. A pretty big one at that, without leftovers. We’ve also made small mods to the house for your benefit. We got you a bed low to the ground and without the prison bars. You’re still to sleep in it. You were very clear when asked, you said no (to sleeping in it). The chair we got you is in full use though, along with the low hooks to hang your jacket when you get in. Old habits die hard and you’re still rebuking any headgear. Without a helmet, time and progress on the balance bike are curtailed and slow. We’re working on that. You threw away your cap in Greece and it’s safe to say we’re reluctant to buy you another.

We’re approaching Heathrow and landing in a few ticks. I’ll add some pics to this and consider it done. Love you son and see you at the next one. Bye for now. Papa.

PS – Back in the day, I’d ask you how good something or your food was with a thumbs up and you’d reply, “Goot” also with a thumbs up. You’ve stopped saying and doing it. It’s rather sad.