Majorca, or more precisely the Sonbrull, near Pollenca in the north east corner. Thoroughly to be recommended if you want two days of 5 star relais and chateaux luxury, if I may say so. It’s sited in an old monastery which has been completely transformed inside with very hip black and slate gray modern bedrooms and great bathrooms.
It’s the first time I have been in Majorca since we came en famille when I was eight. I remember little except that we stayed in a very nice hotel in Palma and that the real British tourist trade (‘full English breakfast, football results by 6pm’) was very close nearby.
Plus ca change. Spin forward a few years to today and the British in Majorca have bifurcated further. There are hotels like the Sonbrull and villas at £1 million and above. Then there is Puerto Pollenca with the perennial full English breakfasts and a range of cuisines ranging from Tex Mex to Indian. Instead of Sports Report on the BBC World Service there are Irish pubs with seven games on Sky every weekend.
A glimpse at the local English language prints reveal the frightening self imposed isolation of the English community who have moved out here to settle and run the pubs and clubs. The letters column is like reading the Daily Telegraph from 40 years ago with their moaning about how Britain has gone to the dogs.
Actually make that the Rhodesia Herald of 40 years ago. One writer harks back to the golden holidays of youth in the Isle or Man when the threat of the birch mean violence didn’t exist. The rest of the paper is all darts nights and pub quiz nights