Friends of ours are almost millionaires. They take their holidays in Tuscan villas and Spanish ones, go to the USA for Christmas and 'pop off to Egypt' in the Winter, but recently they surprised the wotsit out of us and went to Butlins.
I could have choked on the sublime Steak Rossini they'd served us up for dinner. What's more they were raving about their time there.
'The kids were happy, so we were happy' they said - admitting they'd had a few reservations about going to a holiday park, but had been persuaded to go by other members of their family.
They couldn't fault it, said the accommodation was fine, the food was fab, that the entertainment laid on had been brilliant and they wished they'd stayed longer!
I've been getting myself all psyched up for when they buy a property in France which they've been talking about for a few years now, but instead of perusing Provence, they're talking about booking one of the Easter family holidays in Bognor. We can't believe it and honestly really don't appreciate these distractions.
I mention it to deaf ears. They've set their heart elsewhere temporarily. Somewhere they say is safe, suitable for all ages and, perhaps we would like to go too?
It's not lying on a lounger in the Caribbean, by a pool, with the sun beating down, a waiter bringing cocktails, nowhere to go, no-one to see and nothing to do but improve ones tan, which is much more my idea of fun, but those days are gone for now.
In fact, it's quite the opposite they enthuse -*Groan* - plenty to do, loads to see. There are pools and anything we'd like to drink, they argue. Plus there's professional sports coaching for the kids. Ouch. They knew if anything would defeat me, that might. They will love it, they contest, we'll all love it.
It's mighty tempting, because, according to them, these breaks are pretty good value, but if they don't break this annoying new habit, I reckon this time next year they'll be almost zillionaires!