Girl’s gone to Magaluf and it’s hard not to worry

At the Leavers’ Ball held to mark our daughter’s last day at boarding school, there were only two topics of conversation among the anxious parents. How early could we decently slope off without being rebuked by our girls? And the dreaded Leavers’ trip to Magaluf.

Magaluf — Shagaluf as the kids all call it — is the post-A-levels destination of choice for what seems like every school leaver in the country. If you’ve seen The Inbetweeners Movie you’ll know what it’s like: charmless, garish avenues of overpriced bars and clubs with pushy greeters, expensive party cruises, grotesque drunkenness, epic hangovers, sunburn, STDs and gallons of vomit.

Quite how much Shagaluf lives up to its nickname I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Perhaps I’d feel differently if Boy were going. Possibly, I’d expect photos of all his conquests, plus a short biog including where they were educated and their fathers’ net worth.

But with daughters it’s different. The very last thing you want to imagine is buff but brainless lads with waxed bum cheeks like the ones on Love Island even so much as making eye contact with that darling piece of virginal beauty and perfection you sired 18 years ago. If you could, you’d be out there with a shotgun, sitting with all your fellow dads on the doorstep of the girls’ apartment of an evening, counting them all out and counting them all in. Or if you were really brave, you’d do what one of the dads dared do and refuse permission to let her go.

That was never a likely option with me though. First, I’m a soft touch: Girl has only to bat her eyelashes at me to get whatever she wants. Secondly, she has earned it.