Weerrowhiskinkrow! And a few more hisses to ensure the intruder has bogged right off. It’s how I am awoken in my four star hotel in Petrovac, Montenegro.

It’s already heavy with heat as I step out on the balcony to catch a glimpse of my feline alarm clock at 5:30am. I can see the sea, just over the red tiled roof tops, palm trees and flags from the Hotel Rivijera. It looks calm, peaceful and refreshingly cool – perhaps today I will feel brave enough to tackle the seething mass of humanity to take a dip or more importantly to get over my very British rectitude and pay the €10 per person fee to sit on the beach in relative comfort.

It’s not something we are used to in the UK – paying for space on a beach. I do know that if you want a deck chair on Brighton Beach that fees are to be paid – but I’ve never hired a deck chair on any beach anywhere so the thought of starting now is just a bit alien.

There again this whole holiday is a bit alien as we set ourselves up for new experiences everyday – not too alien just a little out of our comfort zone.

At the moment we are resting and recuperating from a weekend of Serbian family fun which involves copious amounts of food, drink and culture with more on the food and drinking bit so that culture when it comes breaks up the day.

If it hadn’t been for the Serbian part of the adventure, we wouldn’t be here at all. The chance invitation to come out for the joint family Slava – birthday celebration – and the fact that Charlie could take more than two weeks off at any one time owing to the fact that he is on Gardening leave between jobs, proved the catalyst needed for this Grand Tour of Europe en famile. It’s unfortunately a once in lifetime opportunity for I don’t think that we will ever be able to be together like this again this side of Charlie’s retirement and by then I am not sure the kids will be inclined to join us. For now though, they have no choice…

So back to my feline alarm clocks.

One of the joys of travelling is seeing how different other cultures are from ours and reflect that perhaps we British are just a little too law abiding and fond of rules and just a bit too uptight about sticking to the plan. Here, outside the European Union, rules are slightly bent and life is more relaxed and easy going. Standards here at the hotel are as high as you’d ever expect them to be  – don’t get me wrong – but I love the fact that there are cats prowling around as we take our evening meal in the outdoor dining area under the trees being hand fed from the tables, chased by the children, petted, encouraged – it’s not something that would be tolerated in Padstow I fear.

The cats are slim and slinky. Savvy little buggers who drift under the tables as we eat. Some of the younger ones mewl to catch our attention and do not move as fast as their elders when the children run to catch them and pet them and squeeze them, or indeed kick them when their parents are not looking.

The older, wiser cats glare balefully at the kids out from under the chairs and tables occupied by the adults, poised ready to either flee from hot sticky little hands or else snaffle a tidbit offered. They take the proffered food with great delicacy, no snatching, no impolite gulping, as if aware that if they were to be so ill mannered the entente cordial in place between them and the hotel would break down irrevocably and they would be without their golden goose. For all these cats are feral, wild in essence living off the good nature and indulgence of huge guests at the hotel. And long may it never change for that is part of the charm, the difference between a smart four star hotel in the UK and what we find here. And I know which I prefer…