Of course I enjoyed the cool thrill of cold water on warm skin, the smell of the taverna that swept over the beach evoking a thousand dreams in one seasoned scent, the excitement of racing through the turquoise sea at speed, the lazy luxury of time spent alone with a book and the bliss of swimming in a crystal-clear sea, but the real highlight of the holiday was the company we kept.
Because for one whole week, I was with my family; these people who know me all the way back to the beginning and remind me of who I was, and who I am, and who I am meant to be; who mock me mercilessly and build me up just as quickly, and love me, love me, love me.
I laughed with my brothers, who are both ridiculous and cool, silly and inspiring in equal measure, who make me laugh harder than anyone I know, and who have spent far, far too much time in foreign climes in recent years.
I watched in awe as my mum spun a web of magic around my boy, enchanting him with her stories, engaging him in play and engulfing him in such perfect peace that he drifted effortlessly off to sleep.
And I delighted in the company of my Dad, who turns sixty later this year, who is the most selfless and generous man that I've ever known, and who chose to celebrate his birthday by giving us all that most rare and precious of treats; time together as a family.