Not a Hobbit’s Tale in this case, but mine, about my recent holiday in Spain. I went with my brother and our respective other halves back to Javea in East Spain for a week of September sun and relaxtion, and it didn’t disappoint.

We had a reasonably early start due to the fact we had to fly out of Bristol (thanks for pulling out of Newquay, Ryanair…) but an easy drive led to a lovely smooth flight out which, as always, I loved every minute of. As nervy as it can be sitting on a plane about to fly, the second we start thundering down the runway I’m in my element.

The wing of our Boeing 737-800, somewhere over France

I didn’t even recognise the airport once we landed in Alicante, they’d built a brand new terminal and car park in the last twelve months which threw me right out, but a short queue at the Avis kiosk made me very, very glad that I chose not to go with Goldcar and join their 30+ person queue. I found we’d been upgraded to a BMW 118D which I was petrified about dinging, but luckily didn’t scratch once (despite once hitting a pavement in a manner that made it look like I was trying to get up on two wheels).

After a bit of sat-nav confusion we found the villa which was really nice. Not too big, not too small and a lovely pool. I won’t bore you with the details of every day out there, suffice to say there was a lot of dining out, a lot of reading, and a lot of lying around doing very little, and enough time in the pool to grow gills.

The Montgo mountain, looking across the bay at Javea

Getting home was a shock to the system, going from 37 degrees and glorious sunshine on Saturday morning to drizzle and 18 degrees back at home. Getting home was made all the more sombre with the bad news that one of our cats (Big Cat) had died while we were away. It was heart-breaking to be honest, it’s very odd to know he won’t be out waiting for me when I get home any more, and when the cat flap bangs it won’t be him, but he had a good life here and I know he’s somewhere else now, shouting at everyone else and sorting them out. RIP Biggie.

A week of highs and lows then really, but definitely a welcome break, and I can still safely say that the pasta at Lungo Mare on the Arenal in Javea will take a lot of beating. Autumn’s just about here, my favourite time of the year, and I can’t wait for it to start getting quiet and crisp outside.