to make my son cringe

I felt really proud at bagging a good deal over the net, a holiday for myself and my eighteen year old son, in Kavos, Corfu.   He was so please to be going to Kavos, and it looked to be a really nice hotel.  As I had booked it last minute, the tickets would be collected at the airport on arrival, so all we had to do was pack and turn up.  I packed my channel no 5 perfume, a few nice dresses for night wear, and some good walking shoes.  My son packed at random, as if he was travelling hand luggage only.
The flight was a bit scarey, as when you come in to land in Corfu, you think that you are going to land in the ocean, as the run way starts at the waters edge, it is a wierd sensation to fly down to water, plus the plane does a mighty U turn to line up.  We survived that.  It wasn't until we got our luggage and headed for the rep's area that a strange feeling began to decend.  I felt like, I was at college.  All the people were very young except me, I was 45.  I found the rep for the hotel, which was on my paperwork and presented myself and my son.  He had a big gaping smile on his face.
" Club 18/30 ?" he said .
" No, I'm 45, not 30"  I exclaimed.
He gave me the once over, and said.
"Well, you'll pass!"
"Pass what ?"
" that's what you're booked onto.."  laughing from the cotton socks upwards.
"But I didn't know..they didn't tell me over the phone!  bloody hell !"
" Mother!"  my son laughed.
I think my son was glad, to be going on a club 18/30 holiday,  but not with me.   I got that impression by the way he tended to walk two yards in front of me, or two yards behind, and every five minutes I heard the word
"MOTHER!" as if he was announcing to the world that I was his mum and not his girlfriend.
We arrived by coach, after informing the whole coach that I was his mother, my son seemed to feel a little better, although it was, a mixed location coach, and nobody was actually going to the Seed Bed that we were appointed to.  We arrived, dismounted and presented ourselves at reception.  I could tell, there were a lot of apparments.  It looked a bit like Butlins altough the screams were not screams from fairground rides, they were squeals of delight coming from most windows, I reckon they must have cable tv in all those chalets and flats playing non stop Benny Hill shows as I could feel the exitement coming through the walls.  There was an old Greek guy on the reception.  He looked at me, and I said
" I am the mother, this is my son"
" he nodded and made a sound like a hedge cutter revving, like we would say arhh..it sounded a bit Zorbarish and reverberated .,,' like a hedge cutter revving '.
" mama...no worry, you come with me, mamma"
Bloody norah, they're all at it, I thought.  But I didn't know then, that this guy was the owner, and he lead us to a block or four apartments, which were swish, with a private patio.  They were not the Butlin type chalets I could see over the way, where they were avidly watching Benny Hill. 
The first night, my son ventured to the bar, alone.  He is eighteen, in a foreign country where the beer and alcohol cost pence.  I thought, I would let him his fly his kite.  This was the first time abroad for him, and we had come on this holiday to bond, as he had been living with my daughter for a while, due to a few personal problems that had left him a little bit mixed in his ways in life, but spending time around his sister had made him realise a lot of things, and work things out.  So I released the string and let the kite go.
It was about eleven thirty, and I was watching, "Benny Hill" on the tv when a huge knock battered on my door.  I didn't get up, I just opened the door as it was near the head board.
"are you Mrs Codd?"
" yes!"
" are you ?"
"yes..what do you want ?"
" can you come and fetch your son, he won't leave the bar "
" you are joking"
it was the rep, he was laughing as if, he thought it was a bloody joke, that my lad had his mum with him.  Which as I said, was a bloody mistake in the first place.
" right, I'm on my way"
I got to the brightly lit bar in full swing full of lads and lasses dressed up to the nines, noted no Benny Hill T shirts apparent, to a uproar of
" bloody hell !  he did bring his mum !!"
and there was Dan, worse for wear, drunk as a skunk and had been fighting with another boy ..and wouldn't leave the bar.
"come lets go back" I said
"no, I'm stopping here"
The rep says you have to go
"well he goes too" said Dan.
"yes, you are both banned..both"
I managed to cagoled him to leave the party..and he was put on a curfew at the bar, he could only go there after seven on alternate days when the other lad wasn't there.  What a carry on with embarrassment, if I as much as hinted I was even a distant relative twice removed, he would die,  never mind his mother.
A few days later, I had to go shopping, and I came back all flustered from walking down the lane carrying bags, and fancied a nice cold beer.  I entered the bar area and saw my son in his fake Raybans, cool Hillfigger top and Speedo's in mid chat up of some right nice lasses in their bikinis.  I didn't stall my gaze on him..momentarily or fleeting as I already picked up the vibe " don't speak to me, please don't speak to me"  I reckon I can spot this vibe with most men I meet in life.  I feel it in my bones, being not angelic in features, and more of a suck and see sort of person.  Maybe my intuition button is always on green, or I look after my pineal gland better than my type 2..but it was there, blatantly shouting out to me 
" make like you don't know me mother"
  I milked it, I moved a bit closer, I tell you these moments are well worth the wait to pay back all the sleepless nights..the potty training ,.the constant whimpering in childhood..
I'm gonna make you sweat boy, who's the mamma who's the mamma.
The Greek owner came into the bar and spotted me.
" Mamma!  Mamma ! "  he shouted squeezing my cheeks like a kiddie.
" I get you drink, I get "
I had a few Ouzo's whilst my son stewed..he couldn't stand still on the spot.  Kids think you don't know.  It's not by accident. I knew no way did he want me to  speak to him, I knew it, it's a bit like Jesus and Peter who denied him three times in the bible, we didn't have to hear a cock crowing it was enough with  Benny Hill on the telly.  I cast my assertive look in his direction a few times, then left.  Let him fly his kite.
We had breakfast in the cafe a few times, and the young ones looked, thinking what's this lad doing with her, it was quite funny.  We froze wet flannels in the freezer in the apartment and let them thaw on our faces, we played cards, we laughed.  We went on a trip over the sea to Sarander in Albania, and ate Aqualora ( icecream) and laughed.  I really had a good time on that club 18/30 holiday.  My son went on a boat trip with the rest of the hotel but I declined that.  That would just be too much ..I don't think these kids are ready for me.

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