Dr Foster went to Gloucester in a shower of rain

  Richard Bell Dads Column – Issue 13

… But my wife, small daughter and I decided to bid the bad British weather “adios” and head for the sun-soaked isle of Tenerife.

Countdown to departure and my wife is busy piling clothes into a big suitcase. In her head, a highly detailed mental 'to do' list that would put Rain Man to shame, has just got round to item one million and 56 - travel entertainment for our daughter.

This was our little one's chance to select toys, games and stuffed animals to keep her amused on the journey. However, not being one to miss a trick, our daughter opted for the 'best behaviour' sweetie tin and a Wiggles DVD.

Suspecting that the entertainment value of the sweetie tin would diminish significantly when we refused to open it, my wife and I made an executive decision to pack sticker books, a favourite cuddly toy and colouring pads and crayons.

And we were off! ...

Our daughter omitting a yelp of delight as she caught sight of the billowing clouds outside of the plane's cabin window, her excitement and wonder at this strange new landscape lasting for all of five minutes before our peace was interrupted by those words that all parents on a long journey dread to hear: “Mummy, Daddy, I'm bored!”

Ten minutes later and with sticker books and children's fun pack exhausted, our daughter took to drumming on the seat back tray in anticipation for the in-flight breakfast and, upon tasting said culinary delight, announced at full volume: “Daddy dis mindin” (translation: Daddy this is minging). I think rows A-C stopped laughing somewhere over Portugal…

One four-hour flight and six 'false alarm' toilet visits later and we were finally on our way to the resort: our air conditioned hire car, complete with newly fitted child seat and ruddy piqued Brits, winding its merry way along the beautiful coastal road dotted with iridescent flowers, imposing cacti and impatient Spanish drivers.

Our complex, we were told, was an award winner for customer care (and the most steps anywhere) and the apartment itself, with its whitewashed walls and terracotta roof, commanded a spectacular view of the Atlantic Ocean.

The breathtaking scenery, however, was completely lost on a little girl who had just spotted a playground with a pool next to it. “Weeee…” Splash! “Too cold, Mummy, too cold, Daddy!” Cue hysterics, which could only be soothed by the emergency administering of strawberry juice and jelly jungle animals.

Unsurprisingly, the pool and playground soon lost its charm so we decided to venture out on some day trips.

The first of these was to Loro Parque an impressive sanctuary for endangered animals set in the steep volcanic hills on the north of the island. The attraction boasts the largest man made iceberg in the world (masquerading as the penguin enclosure), a sprawling Tiger Island and a two-acre teeming koi pond.

But all this paled into insignificance next to a life-sized brass statue of a monkey scratching its head and a toddler 'aping' said brass monkey, while simultaneously being fawned over by enthralled Spanish women, who were playing with her curly auburn locks and beaming with delight.

As well as being one of the main attractions in the park that day, our daughter also snapped at crocodiles, roared at tigers and told the performing dolphins off for not wearing armbands!

Following the success of our animal antics outing, the next day we set off on a boat trip to see dolphins in their natural habitat off the coast at Los Gigantes. On board were several tourists, two guides, three oceanographers studying the calls of the pod and one giddy tot sat cross legged being sprayed with cold, salty water.

With cameras poised, our eager lookout spied the first dorsal fin portside and yelled ecstatically. She sprang across the deck to follow the jumping bottle nosed entertainers, their sleek, grey figures easy to spot in the clear Cerulean waters.

As we left the boat thanking the Captain and crew, the oceanographers treated us to sounds of the dolphins communicating under the water, a series of clicks and high pitched whistles from a language rarely heard and never understood by mankind:

“Daddy, RD2, RD2!” (Translation: R2D2)

So that's where George Lucas got the idea from…

A couple of lazy days later and we're on our way to the ultimate Water Park at Playa de Los Americas, a gaudy reproduction of Blackpool where the smell of fast food gets up your nose almost as much as the Timeshare touts.

Aqualand, a Disney-esque salt-water mountain of slides and chutes was the perfect end to our holiday. The dolphin show was spectacular, the Pirate galleon a runaway success, the lazy river rubber ring ride with daddy and daughter meandering through the park like a couple of pooh sticks.

A happy end to a happy holiday, apart from the plane journey home, which was a carbon copy of the one there - except in shorts.