So I appear to have paid £1000 to stay in a damp bungalow and to be bossed about by unsmiling teenage staff members telling me off or telling me I can't do things, right, left and centre. I feel like I am back at boarding school, rather than on holiday. I've actually had a little cry, I'm so frustrated and feel so fleeced and got at. Hold my hand while I pretend to have s good time, people. I may need gin. And Pombears (which I noticed they sell in the Parc Market).