The other day, an old school friend suggested something to me about trying out some campsites on the Costa Dorada. "What? Are you crazy?" I exclaimed.
But then she told me about the eternal sun of Spain, the Mediterranean sea breeze, the sunbeds under the pines, the salads overflowing with tomatoes, black olives and fresh cheese.
Her children spent the day scampering through the woods, her father played dominoes with other gentlemen, and she finally found some time to read a beautiful novel by Baricco that had been on her bedside table for quite some time. Also, to savour the intense pleasure of doing nothing, without haste, without interruptions.
She said that all this was between Salou, Cambrils and Vila-Seca la Pineda, places that have a special charm. All that is 'Campings of the Costa Dorada.'
The absence of a clock, dad’s smoking barbecue, the children laughing, the swims in the sea, the cards that are shuffled on the rug, the blanket on the shoulders at nightfall, a nice glass of wine before going to sleep.
Although I love holidaying in the UK, this year I'm going to give it a twist, and I'm going to run away from the grey sky of home. So pack the suitcases and take the children’s hands, we are leaving for the Costa Dorada...