Sun and fun on a late break holiday

LET'S be honest, none of us wants to admit to being old, especially old as in the expression 'old and infirm' - it's the association of the two in the minds of others that grates.

So when we of a certain age decide to take holidays out of season, it usually means that we are fit and active enough to do so and are simply taking advantage of slightly cheaper rates, the reduced hassle at airports and quieter resort hotels.

Having never been to Cyprus - unlike, it seemed, the rest of our family and friends, some of whom make repeated visits - we booked a week at the end of October in a five-star hotel near Limassol.

And knowing that we were headed for the most popular part of an island forever associated with Britain in war and peace, it was interesting to speculate on how the clientele might have changed with the seasons, if at all.

At least, we surmised, the place wouldn't be disrupted by brainless teenagers and twenty-somethings with upturned bottles of lager permanently lodged in their throats.

There would also be fewer children, not that they are a problem unless sun-drying parents are allowing them to jump into the swimming-pool directly in front of a sign saying 'No Jumping into the Swimming-pool'. It does happen.

The jet passengers were a mixed bag - some young families, a very nice lad from the north-west travelling 'on spec' without a hotel reservation, a Cypriot businessman using a mobile phone to transfer funds from a personal bank account so that everyone could hear.

And the oldies.

Plenty of them.

When you reach your sixties, oldies are in their seventies and above. They don't mean you, or so you believe, but it's obvious when they talk to you that they include you in their number. Perhaps it's your grey or greying hair.

The hotel proved to be either half empty or full of docile guests. There was barely a murmur.

We oldies are like that. A generation which by tradition is accorded respect tends towards discreet pleasantry when not in the company of those being respectful.

Much of this polite acknowledgement happened in the lift, as oldies on holiday seem to do as little walking as possible, mostly for very good reason.

A couple from the Wirral were on holiday to prepare for her major anatomical surgery when they returned home, a touching case of one's recuperation being clawed forward to a point before the descent of the surgeon's knife.

Walking for her was patently difficult and we sympathised, but others were wobbly examples of what to avoid for those of us still with reasonably-shape bodies and with time and ways of perpetuating our good health.

Walking-sticks, lumbar pains and the odd wheelchair, however, did not prevent the afflicted from joining the buffet rush at 7pm sharp and attacking the three courses like mildly-sedated piranhas.

One night, we swiftly reduced two whole salmon on a platter to Korky the Cat cartoon skeletons, much to the consternation of the chef.

If there was one thing we oldies did well it was to eat heartily, and not just because we were paying for it. For a generation that endured post-war austerity as children or young adults, we had certainly lost the habit of picking at our food.

We also looked reasonably well off and without worry, including the elderly Germans, a sure sign that we are a privileged generation, give or take a universal psychosis or two.

Remember, even an 80 year old would have been just 15 at the outbreak of the second world war.

Perhaps we were all reflecting on our good fortune, which would have added to the tranquility in the survivable heat - a breeze-blown 80 degrees centigrade on the coast, with some picturesque sunsets to remind us of mortality. There was ample space to enjoy it all at any time of the day.

Perhaps at sixty, the feeling of not quite being on the edge of old age makes the company of the truly elderly at best sobering, at worst depressing.

Yet, while we tucked into a triple-chocolate dessert one night and the resident musical duo strummed something jolly in Greek, a couple patently older than us began dancing.

There are some things age cannot weary, and when and where better to encourage them than on a balmy October evening in the Mediterranean?

FACT FILE

* Nigel and Ann Jarrett stayed at the St Raphael Resort, Limassol, and booked their holiday with Libra Holidays (0870 242 2525,

www.libraholidays.co.uk) through The Travel House, Chepstow (01291 623031, and with other Gwent branches).

* Flights were from Gatwick, with bed and breakfast overnight at Bundy's, a guest house at Lingfield. For £70, they left their car at the house and were taken next day after breakfast to the airport, a 15-minute drive, and picked up on their return.