Will’s World: Sun, sea and budgie smugglers (or what I did on holiday)

There he stood, a god among men, women and screaming children.

Thinning red, curly hair, hands like grain shovels placed manfully on his hips – clearly no stranger to a hearty meal while simultaneously being as strong as an ox – his tanned face and forearms and jet-black Speedos starkly contrasting with his pure-white body.

A farmer in all his incongruous glory.

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I wonder if members of other professions could instinctively spot each other at 100 yards in the middle of a busy water park in the Algarve.

The only one I can think of would be land agents, who’d doubtless still be wearing hideously overpriced fleece bodywarmers, as they’re seldom seen in the wild without one.

Then again, they probably holiday somewhere far more exclusive.

Farm friends

We bumped into each other later in the day, as he and his children queued in front of me and one of my numerous daughters for a particularly terrifying water slide.

He’d obviously recognised me as one of his own kind, too, as he asked the immortal question, “farming yourself, are ye?” in a wonderfully broad Ulster brogue.

I can only assume it was the contrasting skin tone that gave me away. Alas, no budgie smugglers for me, though; maybe next time, purely for the teenage-daughter-mortification factor.

For the next few minutes, we chatted merrily away about the weather, current prices, and how good it was to have a break from the everyday stresses and strains for a short while.

“Christ, you’d want to get away after a year like this though,” was how my new friend beautifully summed it up before shooting off down the water slide like a torpedo. I couldn’t have said it any better myself.

For a variety of reasons this was perhaps the most-needed downtime I’ve ever had, and it was lovely to share it with family and the best of friends, making many happy memories together.

We swam in the pool, played lots of card games, walked along the stunning coastline, enjoyed a sea-kayaking adventure, greatly appreciated the last sunshine we’ll see for months, and ate lots of amazing food. Overall, it was close to perfect.

Luck of the Irish

We’re very conscious of how quickly our girls are growing up and aren’t sure how many holidays we have left with them – though I suspect we have a few more to go yet, freeloaders that they are.

Anyway, I’m glad I got to spend quality time with them and feel slightly less guilty for seeing so little of them over the summer and autumn months, even if I am significantly poorer as a result.

It’s hard to truly get away from the farm, whether physically or mentally, and we’re extremely fortunate that my parents are still more than capable of holding the fort while we’re away.

It turns out nothing went drastically wrong, as is usually the case when any farmer leaves the place for more than a few days.

The old man even managed not to hurt himself in my absence, which must be some sort of record.

My new friend wasn’t so lucky. I saw him again later in the day outside the changing rooms, animatedly pacing back and forth while on his phone – by now dressed in checked shirt, jeans and dealer boots – doubtless dealing with some farming emergency back home.

Anyway, if you’re reading this, David, I hope you got it sorted and managed to enjoy the rest of your holiday.