The sort of people who go on a Mark Warner holiday would be the last to say, on their return, that they had just been on a package holiday. The very word would make them shudder. But that is what the company supplies - a middle-class package where, instead of focusing on the flight and the hotels, the emphasis is on the extras: sports, childcare and outdoor activities to suit everyone. You could, of course, just laze around in the sun all day, but that would be a waste.

We went last summer with the specific intention of learning the rudiments of sailing and improving our tennis in the sunshine, and did both.

Merely swimming the 50 metres out to the boats - Lasers and Laser Picos (different-sized one-man boats to those who do not know) - wearing life-jackets was enough to remind us that this was an action holiday.

The first lesson on land had been pretty rudimentary - a variation on the theme that the pointy end was the front and the wind would make it go - because there was nothing like experience. In a light breeze, we all capsized within a minute, which gave us the opportunity to try out our capsizing routine. With a safety boat zooming about, however, there was no suggestion of danger. And, after the lessons, you could take the boats out for a quick tack or two on your own. It makes falling in all the more enjoyable when the water is Mediterranean summer warm.

We were staying at the San Lucianu hotel, exclusive to Mark Warner, on the east coast of Corsica, which is half-an-hour from Bastia airport. But it did not matter because, once inside the gates, we could have been anywhere. This was a hotel with two pools, a tree-shaded path through to a circular open bar fronting a 100m seafront with a view of the boats and, occasionally in the distance, Elba. Behind the hotel, mountains towered.

It all worked fine. The bedrooms were functional, but then this was not a holiday for luxuriating in your room. And the beach was not for parading but a place between hotel and boats or waterskiing (by rota) or windsurfing. By the end of the fortnight, the sailing had progressed so that I could get around three buoys reasonably sedately while others whizzed past. It was something to do with getting too close to the wind. And my capsizing technique was turning into an art form. At the weekly medal ceremony, I was honoured for being the most improved sailor.

The wife and 12-year-old concentrated on the tennis. The three courts, with the mountains as a backdrop, were a delight, as were the three instructors, Nikki, Debbie and Olly. It is so much more relaxing playing when there is warmth in the air and I was taught to serve properly for the first time. Moving around the court was the only problem. "Come on, run," shouted Debbie. "Dad doesn't do running," said the 12-year-old. I would have hit him with the racket if I could have caught him.

Still, he and his mother reached the semi-finals of the weekly competition and parental interest in tennis has been rekindled.

We had hoped there would be other 12-year-olds around, but he was unlucky. However, the 10-year-old made lots of new friends. Children are looked after all day, except for lunch, if you want. There is a fabulous nursery with an army of nannies and, for the older ones, various clubs where they are kept busy windsurfing, waterskiing or playing netball. It is very relaxing for parents to know that the kids are being looked after and are not going to be whining with boredom.

Then there was the socialising. Everyone is encouraged to join tables for drinks and dinner which was alternatively buffet and à la carte. The first question was invariably whether this was your first "Mark Warner". We had to admit to being virgins, but most of the others seemed to have been before to various other Med locations.

We found ourselves talking long into the night on the restaurant patio with a British ambassador and his family about the European Union, had lovely conversations with an Irish finance director and listened, near nightly, to a man whose private life got more complicated at every telling.

The food was good and there was lots of it. Ditto the staff.

But what of Corsica? I am ashamed to say that it will have to wait until next time as we did not see much of it. We hired a car one day and went up into the mountains where the villages cling to ridges amid chestnut trees. But then we got lost and everybody got hot and bothered. However, our best meal came at lunchtime that day in a tiny restaurant about 20 minutes up in the hills. With a panoramic view back over the sea, we had local charcuterie, cheese beignets and cannelloni with some local rosé wine. It was Bastille Day and, afterwards, we walked along the beach to the local village, where we watched a spectacular firework display.

I would like to see Corsica, but that was not what this holiday was about. Not once did the kids say they were bored. As we left, a fellow guest asked whether I had enjoyed myself. "Yes," I said, "but it is a bit like holidaying in Weybridge-on-Sea."

"Oh, do you come from there, too?" he replied.

Way to go

Getting there: Mark Warner (0870 7704226, markwarner.co.uk) offers one week at San Lucianu from £545 to £1,118 for adults and £327 to £950 for kids. Price includes all meals with wine, most watersports, tennis, aerobics and children's clubs. Tennis coaching and scuba are extra.