Tarifa town. A pretty wee place, all windy streets, higgeldy-piggeldy whitewashed houses, hidden courtyards, secret churches, rusty wrought-iron and grey cobble-stone lanes.

But what I love most about holidays is the time for banter, the sinking into easy chit chat, the falling into familiar familial teasing, the opening up, the relaxing, the loose talk, over beers, over wine, over the pool table, round the pool, on the beach, across the dunes, over languid lunches and later, by candle light, long into the night.

And what subjects we discuss… I am joyously entertained by my teenage sons; they make me laugh, they make me gasp, they interest me, they challenge me, they question me, they tease me, they reaffirm everything I know to be good about this life.

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Tagged: diary, family, Holiday, Spain, Tarifa, writing