Hola! Here we are in Spain with our friends Jake and Rafia. Weather lovely, food good, etc, etc.

The first week has passed pretty smoothly, especially after we touched down at Alicante airport.

The journey in the air, however, was horrendous. We soon discovered our toddler, Eve, prefers looking at planes in the sky to actually travelling in them. Just 15 minutes into the flight she was too restless to sit quietly in her seat.

The narrow aisle, with its constant traffic of trolleys, air stewards and queues for the toilets, was clearly far more attractive.

"Want to run there very fast," she said, pointing to it. "Well, you can't," I said, piling a load of books and crayons on to the tray in front of her.

"No, mummy, no," she squealed, slithering off her seat in to the jungle of legs and hand luggage.

I hauled her back up and managed to calm her down with ice cream from the in-flight meal.

This worked for a while but it also meant she ate three portions, which we were all later to regret.

After two exhausting hours of trying to contain Eve, the seat belt sign came on and the captain informed us we would be landing in 20 minutes. This was when the problems truly began.

My husband and I had to pin down Eve to get the straps fastened, which made her scream and scream and scream... until she was sick. The ice-cream cometh.

Fortunately, we found a sick bag just in time but the three people in the row in front were not amused.

"It's her first flight," said my husband, hoping to win their sympathy.

The woman smiled weakly but her two male companions looked at us with murderous intent.

By now my nerves were shattered but Eve made a full and rapid recovery and was all for playing on the carousel at baggage reclaim. For a second I considered attaching a label to her with a false name and address. But, hey, what sort of parent would really do that?

Anyway, Eve's behaviour has improved vastly in the past few days thanks to the influence of Jake and Rafia, who won't stand any nonsense from their own well-disciplined toddler.

If I don't tell her off sternly her playmate does it instead. As a result, Eve has become more obedient and compliant. The only drawback is that, under her playmate's guidance, she now calls me Auntie Jacqui rather than mummy.

The other thing we have been laughing about since we arrived is my complete inability to get to grips with the local currency.

Even though I have been told 250 pesatas are equivalent to £1, I cannot do the mental arithmetic to work out how much I am spending.

I nearly lost my cashcard in a bank machine yesterday when I couldn't decide whether I needed 75,000 or 7,500. I reached 'time up' on my first two attempts. On the third I went for the higher figure. I now have a nasty feeling I am carrying around an awful lot of dosh and will be conned out of £40 for a can of Coca Cola.

My husband has offered to take control of my purse but I don't believe him when he says that beer and CDs are outrageously cheap here.

jbealing@mistral.co.uk