Britain in January and February is cold, gloomy, damp – generally fairly miserable. The days are still short, it’s either fairly cold and wet (and muddy) or bitingly cold and slippery everywhere. Hardy accurately described early January in his poem The Darkling Thrush. I won’t try to improve on his words.

We wanted winter sun, good walking and somewhere new. Research suggested Madeira or the Canary Islands; so we thought we would do both.

A comparison, of sorts. Madeira first, for the very practical reason that flights were cheaper.

The 3.5 hour flight is the longest we have taken since our epic train trip (Rome is an hour shorter) – I have less tolerance for flying than I used to. But it was uneventful, with views of Northern Spain, the Portuguese coast, a glimpse of the African coast and some spectacular views of rocky islands and sheer cliffs as we descended into Funcal Airport.

Our landing in Madeira was noteworthy for being smooth. Flat land is at a premium in Madeira: the airport runway not only runs alongside the sea (and ends in it), but is actually cantilevered over it. I am reliably informed that it is often windy, making plane landings a trifle ‘exciting’.

The first thing to notice as we left the plane was the warmth (yay) swiftly followed by welcome humidity after the dryness of a 3 1/2 hour flight (also yay).

Madeira. A week of welcome sun, walking (it’s going to be hilly), good food, good wine… Bang goes the diet.