Well, here I am in Cape Town for what I think is the fourth time now. I’m officially nearing the end of a ten-day stay in South Africa – namely a week with the family on the coast, followed by a few days flying solo in Cape Town after the family had headed home.

Having survived a somewhat, let’s say, “touch-and-go” journey out (mechanical problems, a looming Heathrow night-flight curfew and my Dad having literal kittens throughout), we eventually made it to beautiful Romansbaai – with its vast and ever-changing sky (plus resident zebras) – all more or less still in one piece. Albeit with the adults in the mix now harbouring an official case of travel-related PTSD as a result…

The intent was always for a chilled week of family “quality time” and, true to plan, our days soon settled into a gentle routine. Most mornings, after I’d squeezed in a scenic run around the bay, we’d head down together to nearby Franskraal beach, a vast, windswept stretch of coastline – cue miles of white sand, rocky outcrops, shallow rock pools and not a hint of commercialisation to be seen.

Suffice to say, the children* were absolutely in their element. Paddling in the sea, exploring rock pools, collecting shells, discovering starfish, poking at hermit crabs, and generally doing all the things children are supposed to do on a beach.

It was all just so gosh darn wholesome – almost like stepping into a Ladybird or an Enid Blyton book (minus the lashings of ginger beer). No Minecraft. No Switch. No K-pop Demon Hunters^. Just two utterly absorbed kids mucking about in the sea, both happy as pigs in the proverbial.

And Dad (aka “Dandad”**)? Well, suffice to say, he was in true seventh heaven.

Suffice to say he’s wanted to make this trip happen for a very long time. Watching him playing around on the beach with his grandchildren, absolutely beside himself with happiness, was IMHO worth the nightmarish 27-hour journey alone.

Eventually, we’d end up prising the children away from the beach with the promise of ice cream in the village, before a chill back at the ranch. On occasion, we’d also take a detour to glorious De Kelders for a spot of whale watching – much to Tommy’s excitement. (Holly, on the other hand, was enraptured for about the first five minutes, then promptly lost interest in favour of gathering yet more shells for he ever increasing collection…).

And then on to the highlight of the day: lunch! Pretty much every day, we went out to one of the many excellent restaurants in the area, reaping the benefits of Dad and Lorraine’s 25 years’ worth of local knowledge and the copious connections they’ve made along the way here.

A honey blonde beer and chicken salad at Pearly Bay Brewery. Ostrich fillet and mash (and too much wine) at the Great White House, eaten beneath an enormous blue whale skeleton suspended from the ceiling. Oxtail risotto at Siba’s Deli. Plus delicious seafood laksa and cheesecake at Lisette’s in Hermanus.

And last but not least, delicious sauvignon blanc and salad at the beautiful Stanford Hills (one of my favourites from our last visit out – for the scenery as much as the food here…).

We also had a lovely braai one afternoon courtesy of Dan (MEAT) and Vicky (sides), cooked on a proper wood fire. I didn’t think we’d make a dent in the vast amount of steak and sausage we got in for the occasion, but in fact we ended up finishing off every last bite – not all that surprising in retrospect really, given that we had Dan and his meat-loving mini-me Tommy in the mix!

The one proper day trip we did manage was a whale-watching excursion – just Dad and me – and it turned out to be really quite something! The highlight was a mother whale and her calf, both coming right up alongside the boat, giving us an incredible close-up view.

Not content with that, the mum then breached twice, before following up with an impressive tail flip – all of which I somehow miraculously managed to capture on video.

And in between all that, there was of course plenty of general hilarity back at the ranch – various convoluted games (“Would You Rather?”, anyone…?), inane conversations and the sort of familial anarchy that inevitably ensues when you stick three generations of one – already, lets say, “slightly unhinged” – family under the same roof for a week.

Anyway, overall mission accomplished, I think. Dad had the family holiday he’d been dreaming of, the children had an absolute ball, and we all survived a week in each others’ company with collective sanity more or less intact.

And so it was that, with Dan & co duly waved off from the airport on Saturday, it was officially my own opportunity for a bit of much-needed “me time” in the lovely city of Cape Town.

Having been to this particular neck of the woods a few times over the years, I didn’t feel any particular need to run around like a mad thing ticking off all the sights this to round – but instead wanted to spend a couple of days decompressing, before tackling the return leg.

That being said, I still managed to get up to quite a bit in the end.

I’ve managed several early morning runs around town, taking in everything from the V&A Waterfront to Table Mountain, to the stately government buildings and landscaped gardens of the Company’s Gardens.

Not to mention jogging my way through the colourful houses, street art and general hustle and bustle of the (at times quite seedy) downtown area, and Bo Kaap.

Even at 7am, it was patently clear that I was often catching the tail end of quite a few other locals’ nights, judging by the antics of some of the less salubrious characters still hanging around Long Street. No one bothered me at all, but there were definitely a few streets I opted to avoid en route…

I also made it to the iconic Long Street Baths for a couple of much-needed swims. Built in 1908 as the city’s one-time whites-only municipal baths, the place doesn’t appear to have changed much in the intervening 118 years.

In keeping with the bath’s “historic” theme, think traditional cold water pool, mouldy showers and peak old-school changing facility vibes. They do officially let black people in these days, at least – though, looking around me, I couldn’t help notice that, bar one or two exceptions, the swimmers were all still white and the staff almost exclusively black.

Which is South Africa all over really: the laws on apartheid may have been abolished over 30 years ago, but the social realities are evidently rather slower to catch up (or at least where swimming pools are concerned, at any rate…).

On a lighter note, to the surprise of presumably no one reading, I also booked myself on a half-day trip round the Stellenbosch wine lands (visiting the Beyerskloof and Lanzerac estates en route), because clearly I had not consumed enough wine at this point in the trip (*ahem*).

Only on rocking up to the meeting point did I discover that, rather disappointingly, I was – once again – the only person booked on a supposed small group tour. Now, anyone familiar with my Romanian travel debacle and infamous Ro-bot will understand why this unwelcome discovery may have proven somewhat “triggering” in my case.

Fortunately, this time it was only for just the one afternoon, and with a guide (Sumi) who, by contrast, could at least converse like a normal functional human being. He was a top bloke, in fact, and we actually ended up chatting about anything and everything from Princess Diana conspiracy theories to ultra-processed foods. Plus, wine – obvs.

Last but not least, on my last full day in the country, I opted to treat myself to a blissful afternoon at the upmarket Librisa Spa – complete with massage, facial and a supremely fabulous teriyaki salmon and avocado salad afterwards.

Then all too soon, just as I’d finally managed to settle into a state of proper holiday relaxation, it was time to pack up and head home again Bloody typical.

Still, all in all, a wonderful ten days. Seeing Dad so happy, the children having the time of their lives, and a few days of spa treatments, wine tasting and general Cape Town indulgence to round things off. South Africa, you’ve done us proud.

So, all in all, a wonderful ten days. Seeing Dad so happy, the children having the time of their lives, and a few days of blissful spa and wine lands time in Cape Town just to round things off. South Africa, you’ve done us proud.

As for now, I think I’ll just leave the final word to seven-year-old Holly, who rather charmingly summed up the whole family holiday in a poem she wrote en route home:

“Here at the café, the people are always talking and if they’re not, they are coming in.

Here at the café, on some chairs live one big happy family in South Africa.”

Which, when all’s said and done, is exactly what Dad had in mind all along…

And on that note, totsiens, South Africa – though I suspect Dad may already have plans in the making for the next collective family saga… 😉

* If you can’t tell, I’m doing a deliberate Meghan Markle and not posting overly identifiable family face pics up on public t’internet. Just as well really, as I’ve literally got so many from this trip, I wouldn’t know where to start!

^ I absolutely bloody love K-Pop Demon Hunters myself too btw, so no shade intended here.

** The name started as Tommy‘s childhood mispronunciation of “Granddad”, but given that my brother’s also called Dan, my Dad is also quite literally Dan’s own dad. I therefore give you “Dandad”.