“Daddy, where is our small pool?” queried my three and half, going on four, going on fourteen, year old daughter on arrival at the small, charming cottage we had rented for the week in Pembrokeshire.

She was referring to the fact that our villa in the Maldives (our last family holiday) had a small plunge pool. Our house in Wales did not due to geography and climactic differences that, as yet, are a little beyond my daughter.

The next comparison with the Maldives was the fact that the beach in Pembrokeshire was stony and not as soft as the Maldives.

Then of course she commented on how cold the water was….

Notwithstanding the fact that Pembrokeshire is famed for its potatoes, the final straw was when she had the gall to ask, “Daddy can we please have chips like in the Maldives?”

I am painting a horrible and definitely unfair picture of my daughter. She is not spoilt, far from it (the fact that chips are a rare Maldivian treat perhaps backs this up). Rather it serves to illustrate that whilst we had a great time last week in Pembrokeshire it cannot compete in my mind, and certainly that of my daughter’s, to the week we had in the Maldives….