Beatrix pottering: Mallorca Mark II: El Regresso

“You don’t need a coat Mummy, it’s not England!”. And glory be Jemima, that’s true. We woke up on our first full day in Mallorca to that amazing golden light filtering through the curtains. Outside the sky and sea were both shining blue. It’s just as wonderful as we remember.

We’d had a fairly serious false start to this trip - we’d planned to be here a week ago, but the expiry of Jemima’s passport put paid to that. But the replacement arrived on Thursday, in plenty of time for our re-booked flights on Saturday, and then it was all systems go!

I have to confess (at the risk of sounding ungrateful), I do find the preparation and packing phase very stressful. I now find some of the things we’ve done astonishing (eg setting off for a two month European road trip in a motorhome we’ve literally never slept one night in). Maybe it’s a product of age, but I seem to be making more of a meal of it these days. But we arrived at the airport on time with only one bag overweight (and Ryanair didn’t notice) - from that point on, I began to relax.

Jemima enjoyed her trip through the airport - she was much more aware of the different stages than previously, and even got a solo trip through the scanner, which she looked very chuffed about. (It was hilarious seeing her queuing up in a line of adults, holding her shoes.) And the flight was very easy - Kevin was next to Jemima, so I indulged myself with a Jilly Cooper (the unbeatable ‘Rivals’). Then after a couple of hours, we saw the sun shining on a green mountainous island below us - it was Mallorca!

And even from that high up, we could already see the glorious golden light. That was the moment when I thought all the stress in the build-up was worth it.

A painless trip through the airport, and a swift taxi ride through the glowing dusk to Portals Nous. The contrast with last year: instead of the uncertain excitement of an entirely new adventure, it was the joyful excitement of discovering old friends in all the familiar landmarks. At the apartment building, Jemima didn’t even wait for us but ran off through the gardens to the entrance to our block. And then we were back in our home away from home! Some slight differences (new dining chairs, a new TV), but mainly, wonderfully familiar, and just as great as we remembered.

As soon as we could, we headed through the apartment complex down to the marina, for the festive arrival by boat of the Three Kings (the Spanish equivalent of Father Christmas). We missed the disembarkation by five minutes, but no matter, we’d seen it last year, and we caught a glimpse of the Kings themselves. Then as the wonderful Puerto Portals Christmas market was thronged, we retired to our favourite spot for wine and jamón - and despite the crowds, “our” table was free! Kevin and I have regularly reminisced about returning to Flanagan’s, and it was just as good as we remembered. And Jemima loved running around outside as usual. We wandered back to the flat feeling very happy, and very at home.

This morning was similarly lovely: a lie-in, some unpacking, some pottering - all with the sun streaming through the windows. Then off we headed back to the marina - it’s the last day of the Christmas market, so we needed to make the most of it.

After a free craft workshop (Jemima made a plasticine penguin), we stopped at our favourite tapas stall from last year. And it was as good as we remembered - we’d been disappointed by the Basque style of tapas on our motorhome trip around Spain (various stuff on slices of baguette-style bread). But these were the way they should be: delicious, varied, attractive little morsels. Yum.

A fabulous walk/ scoot along the sea wall in the warm sun (Jemima got so hot she stripped down to her vest); then it was back to the flat for Kevin and Jemima, and a quick supermarket stop for me. More unpacking, then at 4pm we went back to the marina for the Christmas Market goodbye party.

This was something we’d learned last time: at most events, the Mallorcans lay on specific kids’ entertainment. And today we had two youngsters organising games, and (fake) snowball throwing competitions. At first Jemima was a bit reluctant to join in (“I don’t know what she’s SAYING!”), but musical statues crosses all language barriers, and she was off! The next thing she was speaking confidently into the microphone (in response to being asked in Spanish what her name was): “Hemima!” Our Mallorcan girl is back.

Where else could the day end but dinner in Cappuccino, the granddaddy of all the marina Cafés, dominating the corner that gets all the late afternoon sun. By this time (5pm) it was getting a bit chilly - but the sun was still out, and there we were, sitting al fresco, coatless, in January. No Jemima, it’s definitely not England. It’s good to be back.