"What part of England are we over now?" asked daughter, looking out of the plane's window about 90 minutes after take-off.

"We left England about an hour and 20 minutes ago. This is Germany or Austria," I explained.

"Didn't you notice we went over the Channel? It's a good job you didn't have to do geography O-level. I think you would probably have failed."

She ignored my sarcasm and settled back in her seat, leafing through the in-flight magazine.

We arrived on Skiathos a couple of hours later and emerged from the plane into a warm and sunny climate.

A short taxi ride later we found ourselves at our isolated "studio" - a basic but adequate room with absolutely stunning views across the bay in one direction and over- looking the "biotope", an area of natural conservation in the other.

It really was outstandingly beautiful. Of course the price you pay for a fabulous view is that you are quite high up a hillside, which means an exceedingly steep walk each time you return home.

This meant any high heels we had taken with us for night time wear were instantly forgotten, well, as far as I was concerned anyway.

Daughter insisted on wearing her favourite multi-coloured platforms and teetered down the slope each night alongside me in my comfortable flats.

Most nights we caught the bus, a ramshackle green affair which careered round cliff top corners in a dangerous fashion into Skiathos town to eat.

We took turns at choosing the restaurant.

My criteria was how authentically Greek it looked and daughter's was whether any of the waiters were cute.

Cats were everywhere and came begging at the tables, tolerated by the Greek taverna owners in a way that wouldn't happen in England.

"This one's called Ouzo," said daughter, giving a little black and white kitten some leftovers from her plate.

"How do you know it's called Ouzo?" I asked.

"It says so on that menu board. Look. 'Tidbits for Ouzo'," she replied.

I decided not to disenchant her and anyway Ouzo suited the kitten concerned very well.

We spent our days lying on the beach, swimming and snorkeling.

Daughter lost her veneer of Brighton sophistication and became the child she still is really, feeding fish and daring me to swim out to the buoy and back.

She also made me go parasailing. We had watched other people suspended from parachutes being towed behind boats and decided it looked like fun.

We also spent a day horse riding, trekking along hillside paths looking down on coves and beaches before descending through a pine forest back to the stables.

That was the best day for me although, not having sat on a horse for 30 years or more, I was extremely sore the next day and almost had to eat standing up.

Sadly the week flew by and all too soon it was time to come home.

It's back to work in a couple of days for me and a late start at school for daughter, now fully recovered from her recent illness.

Still, at least we can show off our tans.