A holiday within a holiday

Is it greedy to feel like these last few days have been a holiday from our trip (when the trip is of course a holiday)? Our current norm is us three travelling in Beatrix, and our time in Javea has felt very different. The big things: the presence of my parents, which has also meant two extra pairs of hands for our (most beloved) Jemima; remaining stationary for a whole five nights (so far). But little things too: staying in bed this morning to finish a fun thriller my dad had lent me; sunbathing on the beach; the best weather we've had. 

And because Kevin has hired a car, and the grandparents kindly agreed to entertain Jemima, he and I did some pottering around together today: we've always enjoyed driving to explore. Perhaps the foundation of our trip? But you can't take a motorhome everywhere. We drove steep cliff tops, tracks through woods, and winding, narrow roads of sea-view villas - all impossible in Beatrix. And fun, as a change. Plus lunch, just the two of us, in Moraira, where we came on holiday five years ago with Kevin's three grown-up children and their partners/ friends. (Our dream holiday villa: on El Portet, the south-facing headland near Moraira.)

But holidays end: a lovely last dinner together tonight, on Arenal beach, setting for so much fun; and the grandparents go home tomorrow morning, leaving behind a disconsolate Jemima, a new collection of 'people' to play with (all the Bing characters), and a different Octonauts DVD (a change is as good as a rest, I hope). And for the three of us, it's back to the adventure.

Our drive:

Granny and Grandpa's bungalow:

Dinner:

Still in Javea: