A night with the family at the four-star Marriott Hotel Gosforth Park, in Newcastle, shows Joe Willis that fancy hotels and children can go together.

TEN minutes was a record even by Little Joe’s standards. Normally, it takes him at least an hour to hurt himself when he has been taken out of his familiar surroundings.

However, on checking in at the Marriott Hotel Gosforth Park, in Newcastle, it took the girlfriend’s youngest just ten minutes to fall off the bed and bang his foot.

On this occasion, it was not his own fault.

Firstly, it was mine for asking him to jump on the bed so I could attempt an action shot with the camera.

Secondly, it was the bed’s fault.

How can a boy used to bouncing on normal beds, with normal mattresses, be expected to cope with the luxurious properties of four-star hotel standards?

Anyway, no lasting damage was done and he quickly moved off to investigate the mini-bar with his brother.

Before we could shout: “It will come out of your pocket money”, the boys had taken out a small jar of peanuts. Due to modern mini-bar trickery, this meant £2.95 was instantly added to our bill.

A meal in the Plate Restaurant, winner of an AA Rosette, turned out to be a more relaxed affair. After reading that the restaurant had a dress code, we were at first a bit concerned about taking two boys with a fear of hairbrushes, but we need not have worried.

The maitre d’ was welcoming, even to an 11-year-old with a haircut he describes as “emo”, but his mum claims is more “emu”.

After an enjoyable threecourse meal, we retired to our rooms and found that the beds were much more suitable for sleeping in than jumping on.

The next morning the boys’ eyes bulged at the choice available at the breakfast buffet.

Normally, the “no swimming after eating” rule would have applied, but the check-out clock was ticking and so, after a quick walk around the grounds, which extend to 12 acres, where we spotted red squirrels, we headed for the spa.

For the best part of two hours, we ran from pool, to sauna, to steam room, to jacuzzi and even, occasionally, the freezing plunge pool, before jumping back in the first ready for another circuit.

When we headed home, we felt more exhausted than relaxed, but still very content.

If I lived by rules – other than never to speak during EastEnders – pretty high up would be one about not taking children to posh hotels. Apart from anything else, it’s a waste. Children don’t appreciate luxury any more than I appreciate rubbishy free toys from fast food restaurants.

Or so I thought. Now I’m not so sure, as I think the boys will remember this short stay for a long time to come