I found a 1970s holiday that finally stopped my kids looking at screens

Back then, life could be dull. I am not, and never have been, a fan of Miss Piggy and at times it felt like The Muppet Show was the only thing on the telly. But at least my brother and I were free to watch it and moan. School was our only obligation and, on the rare occasions when our parents did hover nearby, we were being taught how to sail. The idea was that we would then put an entire Peak District reservoir between us and them — and cope. Eventually we did.

My children, by contrast, are busier and more constrained — by hockey clubs, homework, music lessons and endless questions about their next maths test. I often wonder if the reason they’re so fixated on video games is because that is the only time they can escape our supervision and taste some of the freedom I took for granted.

Sean and his family stayed at Neilson Messini Beachclub

This trip, then, would be a chance to swap joysticks for ropes, role-playing for a rudder and the machinations of an algorithm for the vagaries of the wind. In the process, they would discover a sense of independence and control far more addictive than a game of Minecraft.

That was the plan, anyway. But when they eventually clambered on to one of Neilson’s dinghies, the first thing they did was capsize. There wasn’t a breath of wind at the time but we had only three full days in which to turn them into old salts, so there wasn’t a moment to lose. With that in mind we had booked three private lessons to expedite the process, instead of simply having them join one of the free four-day group courses. Not surprisingly, that put some pressure on their instructor, Jeremy, and on the first day he had to paddle their dinghy around to create some forward motion.

I, meanwhile, grabbed one of the help-yourself stand-up paddleboards available from the sailing centre and paddled about too, pretending I wasn’t a helicopter parent.

I’m not sure what happened next but the result was a sudden splash and, when I looked round, the dinghy was on its side. Sam, who is 15, was in the water laughing while Ben, aged eight, had wrapped himself like an octopus around the driest bit of the boat he could find.

No one was in danger. The boys were wearing buoyancy aids, a rescue boat puttered in the background and Jeremy was patiently explaining what to do next. But poor Ben was clearly alarmed, as any eight-year-old whose dad hadn’t showed him how a buoyancy aid would keep him afloat if he fell in would be.

For anyone who can already sail, it’s something close to heaven

Cool as a sea cucumber, Jeremy righted the boat and carried on with the lesson. “How was that?” I asked Ben and Sam eventually when they came ashore. “All right, I suppose,” Sam said in that low, disengaged monotone teenagers reserve for their parents. Then they went back to the room and picked up their devices.

This was not, I hasten to add, an unhappy moment. In London, when we left home, autumn had been worrying our chimney pots with its first gale. Now here we were, suddenly back in summer, but the lovelier, late-season version with daily highs of 25 or 26C — the perfect temperature for trying the other free activities laid on by Neilson. Tennis and cycling are the main ones. We learnt later that one of the lustier cycling groups had that day pedalled to the top of Mount Taygetus, which tops out at 2,405m. But there was plenty more besides. Soon my wife, Vera, disappeared into a busy programme of gym classes, while Sam signed up for wakeboarding and Ben joined his kids’ club, the Sharksters. After an afternoon of swimming pool Olympics he told us that it was the best holiday club he knew.

In fact, it wasn’t long before Vera and I were asking ourselves why on earth we hadn’t come here five years earlier, even if the boys’ sailing careers were getting off to a glacial start.

Then, on day two, the local microclimate woke up. Neilson’s beach club is built beside a bay that works like a giant heat pump. In the mornings all is still, but then the land warms up faster than the sea, and the air rises. To take its place, an onshore breeze rushes in — and that’s what powers the sailing programme.

For anyone who can already sail, it’s something close to heaven. Not just because there’s a reliable wind or a choice of dinghies to try, but because the staff will rig them for you. You rock up on a whim and in ten minutes they will have a boat on the water, ready to go. A Dart 16 catamaran, perhaps, if you feel the need for speed and want to get stuck into the racing programme. Or maybe an easygoing single-handed RS Zest if, like me, it’s 29 years since you last held a tiller.

Meanwhile, beginners should reach the equivalent of the Royal Yachting Association’s level 1 by the end of their course, which means they will be able to sail, under supervision, in any direction — provided the wind is not too blowy.

Staff at the resort will rig your boat for you

After his capsize, Ben decided that he wasn’t quite ready to take charge of one of these big, tippy boats so he relegated himself to being Sam’s crew. But thanks to Jeremy’s calm and focused tuition his older brother forged ahead. Meanwhile, I reacquainted myself with the basics in my Zest and bided my time.

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Then, when Sam came ashore after the final session, I swooped. “Can we take out two Zests and sail them single-handed?” I asked. Three days beforehand Sam hadn’t known stern from starboard but within minutes we were back out on the bay of Messini, sailing side by side in separate dinghies. My heart nearly burst with pride.

“You can sail!” I raved back on the beach. “How do you feel?”

“Yeah, good,” he said mildly, and then, “Are we finished now?” I nodded and he went back to our room, no doubt to find his phone. Later he asked if he could do some more wakeboarding. Not for the first time I kicked myself for not booking a full week. After six days he could be sailing off into the wide blue yonder or maybe hooked on wakeboarding.

Sam out on the water

Still, there wasn’t time to dwell on this semi-success, for one simple reason. While we had been out together I had felt the first tug of a strengthening wind. I jumped back into my Zest and for the next hour forgot all about parenting and devices and the endless targets we set our offspring. All that mattered was coaxing every last ounce of speed from the dinghy until it was planing: the moment when it stops ploughing through the water and begins to skim over the surface. As soon as it does, it gets loose, skittery and much, much quicker, and you can feel the acceleration in every bone of your body, just as my brother and I did when we sailed our old wooden Enterprise in the late 1970s.

That’s when I finally realised that there will only ever be one person who wants to star in a remake of my childhood: me.

I’m already planning the sequel.

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Sean Newsom was a guest of Neilson Messini Beachclub, which has seven nights’ all-inclusive for a family of four from £1,384pp, including activities, flights and transfers (neilson.co.uk)

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