Oh for a bucket and spade

Like most parents we splash out on Christmas presents for the children. And, like most parents, we watch as they tear open the shining sit-on fire engine or dolls' house only to ignore them and spend the entire day making secret camps with the boxes and wrapping paper. They couldn't be happier.

This thought crossed my mind the other week as I sat by one of three swimming pools at an expensive hotel in Cyprus called the Anassa, 45 minutes drive from Paphos. My children, four and two, couldn't have been happier splashing about but I pondered: is there any point taking children on a swish, expensive holiday when they are happy with a bucket, spade, some ice-cream and any half-decent swimming pool?

The thought was particularly throbbing after lunch at the poolside café. Three sandwiches and four drinks had cost me £50. A snack lunch for a young family on holiday should never cost more than £30. Preferably £20. We opted for the café as the day before we went to the poolside restaurant for grilled fish and grilled chicken with salad and chips and a bottle of Greek wine. It was £100. That is more than Club 55 in St Tropez.

No, I thought, let's forget pricey summer holidays now and, when the children are older and can appreciate (and remember) the experience, spend it on trips to Africa, India, Cambodia and South America. Perhaps the odd weekend in Siena, Jerez or Istanbul, too?

This is not to say that a holiday at Anassa is not enjoyable. In fact, the hotel, a complex of pretty buildings with pale blue shutters and a spectacular garden, lovely beach and gentle waters, is immaculate in almost all respects.

The service and quality of everything from the food to the pillows and the towels to the spa is impressive. They were perhaps a little keen on marble, which is everywhere, but the clients, who tend to be footballers and glitzy types, like that.

One swimming pool has a bar with a stool in the water. They are popular in Florida. My two-year-old son wanted milk and biscuits there so over we went. He sat there, in armbands, in regal splish-sploshery. Later that night my daughter, four, asked if she could have room service. Were we spoiling them?

I panicked and organised a boat trip up the coast in search of simple pleasures. It was a delight, too. We bobbed to the bay where Aphrodite apparently frolicked, although the old girl certainly got around if the sign posts in Cyprus are anything to go by. She's everywhere. She is to Cyprus what Hemingway is to Cuba.

That said, the bays were the discovery of the holiday. For the Med the water is remarkably clear, with white sandy bottoms and framed by intriguing rock formations-One had what appeared to be the remains of an amphitheatre. The coastline has no development, although it would have been good if the odd one had a little restaurant like on Corfu.

We swam from the back of the boat in a deserted bay - the sort of brief blissful moment we hope for in a summer holiday with our children but rarely find.