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Mexico

of the accident he responded: “He was peeling an orange!”. The girls had been pretty enfeebled in the rarefied air up on the plateau so appreciated the move.

I’d had a day in Acapulco on my way to Europe so knew it as a resort town famous for the rock diving. I’d thought it all a bit lame, especially as Elvis wasn’t there doing the high dive. We avoided the township all together and rode a little north to a beach area where it seemed like a small grouping of houses had been started, then abandoned … and that was exactly what it was. A small family (Mum, Dad and three wee ones) indicated it was fine for us to set up in a roof-less structure. We loved the way that as we moved in, they sent over the six-year-old boy with a machete almost his size to trim away a few large weeds. Quickly they became our surrogate family, and the mum was engaged to provide cooked evening meals for us. Of course, that is a winner all round, as they got hard-cash and we got tortillas with frijoles and occasionally eggs. They’d put a thatched roof on their dwelling making it a bit more four-seasonal than ours. This was a great place to while away the days. Roly claimed his best ever sun-tan after only four days and Lawrie and I ran the beach as well as spending endless hours diving in and out of the pounding surf. It was pretty idyllic. Oranges and coconuts completed our diet.

Our Mexican family