A nostalgic journey back to the 1970s when the love affair with Nerja, Spain, began. Based on the true story of the Edwards family.
In 1972, smooth-talking London bookie Jimmy Edwards was horrified by the daunting prospect of a tax-grabbing Socialist Government. With a pioneering British spirit, he sold up and voted with his feet. Seduced by the balmy climate and low costs, he crammed the family into the Rolls Royce and headed for Spain, still under the iron fist of a Fascist regime. Blissfully ignorant of the politics, linguistically inept, and without relevant experience, they purchased a half-finished hostel from a dodgy developer in the quaint fishing village of Nerja on the eastern Costa del Sol.
The bureaucracy was a nightmare, and rip-off builders were laboriously slow. But Jimmy was smart. He appointed a Spanish lawyer in Málaga who spoke English. What could go wrong?
Unsurprisingly, the project was delayed and then delayed. In 1974, well over a year behind schedule, the Fontainebleau opened and was immediately at loggerheads with oddball ex-pats, eccentric guests, demanding tour operators, and the dreaded Guardia Civil. With family harmony falling apart and bankruptcy looming, their only hope was luck and a gritty determination to succeed.