The flight from Gatwick to Alicante is only a couple of hours long but it’s always a long day’s travelling by the time you’ve added in all the travel to the airport and waiting time there. Despite checking in online and printing our boarding cards it still took an hour to drop our bags off at the meanly manned (only four desks open) easyJet desk. However, Linda and George, who had been staying with me for 9 days, and with whom I was heading to Spain for a 9 day holiday in their home there, cleverly suggested getting to Gatwick North VERY early so we could find somewhere for a proper lunch, otherwise it would be sandwiches all day. I always think Gatwick North is a particularly grim terminal but we were surprised to find a Jamie’s Italian there which suited our needs perfectly. With windows along one wall letting in the daylight, over our long and leisurely lunch it was wonderfully easy to forget we were in an airport. I said in another post quite recently that I thought Jamie’s Italian had lost the plot a bit and gone downhill, but the food at the new Gatwick one was excellent, organic house wine very good and service friendly and efficient.

After an hour’s drive from Alicante we were following the small winding road that leads to my friends’ house. It was about 11pm so dark and late by the time we arrived, but oh so wonderful to be here again. Waking this morning I was surprised to see a heavy mist almost blocking any view, but by the time I was up, showered and sitting at the table near the pool with breakfast, the mist was clearing revealing the glorious view with the sierras in the distance, towards the sea, although the sea isn’t visible from here; the house nestled in a kind of amphitheatre.

Some shopping was a necessity as Linda and George had been away, so Linda and I headed into nearby Moiraira first. While she went off to an appointment, I wandered down to the marina, had a coffee and bought a sundress. Well, it’s hot! Then it was another coffee with Linda before heading to the supermarket. She had her usual cortado, a Spanish favourite – short and strong with a little milk.

It’s always fascinating for anyone interested in food to go to a foreign supermarket. I most definitely don’t ever see a stall with whole Serrano and Iberican hams in my local Waitrose or Sainsburys.

Back ‘at home’ we were now hungry for lunch. Some of the wonderful ham, a rich fragrant flavour.

Some cheeses, bread and salad.

And all in a glorious setting. Fruit after included figs from their fig tree.

If you want a lemon, you pick that from a tree too.

And just below the ‘stage’ of the amphitheatre where the pool and terrace sits, vines full of grapes – plump tempranillo grapes – are ready to be picked and made into wine.

Then it was time to relax. A book to get started on, a swim in the pool – a serious 20 lengths – and then a glass of chilled white Spanish wine as I sit at the table near the pool writing this post, and watching the sun slowly go down on a perfect first day.