Ibiza 3 - sunless, sea and beaches

Once we had touched down in Ibiza, collected our bags and picked up our hire car we drove to Es Canar where we were renting an apartment. Our mood was light as it was the first day of our holiday and despite the mad dash at the airport nothing was going to ruin it.

We eventually found the apartment itself which was pleasant enough but how to get to it? It obviously wasn't built for anyone disabled or with a pram with no lift or helpful ramps in sight and we struggled up the three flights of stairs to the top floor. The apartment had a wonderful view across the sea but unfortunately it was north facing and barley a slither of sunlight touched balcony - something else the owners forgot to mention we rented it. The air conditioning was also broken and there was no high chair for Pork Chop which meant we had to construct a sort of chair out of a plastic garden seat and a mini inflatable lilo. I know I sound a little mean but we had paid quite a lot for the week and had certain expectations.

Still, despite these few niggles we settled down to relax, take in the sea breeze and the sunny view and polish off a bottle of Baileys and some red wine.

The video my other half made of me uttering, "I'm not pissed, I am just tired" will no doubt be recycled at every family gathering for years to come. Anyway I still maintain I wasn't really drunk and that a long day's travelling was just catching up with me. I did feel a bit guilty however when Pork Chop awoke in the middle of the night demanding to be fed and I still felt slightly wobbly as she latched herself on. I don't make habit of it and I did feel rather guilty but I sincerely hope my health visitor isn't reading this!

A new dawn, a new day and we decided to take a look around Es Canar which, to our mounting horror, was the Ibizean equivalent of Faliraki. No exotic paella or unusual Spanish dish for sale on the beach but instead you could order a chip butty and a pint of Murphy's. Bars and clubs drowning in flashing lights and neon signs carpeted the main street and Britons in mini skirts and impossibly high heels tottered along. It was our worst nightmare. We actually visited San Antonio while there and surprisingly it was lovely but has been unfairly burdened with a reputation as being Europe's clubbing capital.

Now I am English born and bread and proud of my nationality - except when I am abroad. I cringe at the sight of the Englishman in a foreign land, shouting loudly at the waiter because they think they will understand him more. When I lived in France and travelled back and forth on the ferry I used to speak French only because I didn't want people to think I was like all the other English. I am also embarrassed by my severe lack of Spanish language skills which just amount to the odd gracias and por favor here and there.

But to come to the point, we made a decision there and then to spend as much time as possible away from Es Canar and the apartment. First beach we visited wasn't much better. Cala Llonga was full of fat Britons of all ages, showing too much flesh in tiny bikinis and swim suits. I have never understood the desire to show off everything. Even before I had a baby I generally didn't enjoy showing off my midriff but now after childbirth I wouldn't been seen dead flaunting my sagging flesh.

Second beach was Cala Vedella which was generally pretty lovely except for the dozens of pink jellyfish floating at the water's edge. I only noticed quite how many there were after getting a rather painful sting across my leg. I did ask The Other Half to pee on me in the absence of any vinegar but he snorted with derision at the very idea and refused. The Ibizeans are all very laid back but I think even they would have drawn the line at that.

Third beach was Cala d'hort which was very tiny and picturesque but also swamped with jellyfish. Pork Chop didn't seem to like it that much either so after half an hour there we eventually gave up and went to eat and overcooked, overpriced fish and seafood lacking paella in a nearby restaurant. The Other Half was complaining for days after that his kidneys were hurting because of the amount of salt in it.

Finally several days in we came across one called Cala Benirras right at the north end of the island which was the beautiful beach for beautiful people. We felt like interlopers who had somehow managed to sneak into the VIP area of an exclusive party and were at any moment going to get kicked out. I have never seen so many bronzed, toned 6ft blondes in bikinis with perfectly pert tits that have obviously not been drained by breastfeeding. There was even a photoshoot taking place there one day. At one point an impossibly skinny model was sitting on a rock being preened by a very gay looking man who was putting in masses of hair extensions. Anyway suffice to say, despite feeling wholly inadequate being there we settled in for the remainder of the holiday.