When I asked my partner if he’d like to join me on a family holiday, he was hesitant. It was early in our relationship, after all. Then I told him the destination was the west of Ireland. “Lofty mountains, white-sand beaches and villages with more pubs than houses,” I said.

I wasn’t specific about which relatives would be coming along. Or how many. Once the flights were booked, I revealed all. He would be holidaying with more than 60 of my nearest and dearest. Welcome to the family reunion, darling.

It was a beautiful day as we gathered on the terrace of our base for the week, a stately home turned hostel. Most had come from the UK but there was an American contingent, a few from Australia and even a Fijian or two, all of us descended from a trio of siblings – Jack, Dennis and Kathleen – who grew up in London’s east end in the early 20th century.

It was my partner’s first encounter with many of the clan’s characters. He was introduced to our 79-year-old matriarch, who’d left England for New York aged 21, sailing off on the Queen Mary with her new husband. He got to know my uncle the ex-monk, who’d spent seven years in a silent order – and now doesn’t stop talking. He met my niece the circus performer, my glass-blowing cousin, and a 65-year-old aunt who swims outdoors every day… in Scotland.

He was soon buzzing with stories. How my sister’s idea of a walk turned out to be a three-peak challenge. About the beach outing that culminated in the building of a mile-long chain of sandcastles. The pack of nieces who cajoled him into buying the jewellery they’d fashioned out of shells. And the evening he didn’t know where to look when my aquatic aunt went skinny-dipping.

On the final Saturday we split into teams for the family ‘Olympics’. We competed in events ranging from a tug of war to the construction of rafts that would float on water.

The day finished with a campfire where we read out limericks and sang songs inspired by the week. There was a prize, too. I was bowled over when my partner won with a ditty that summed up our family as entertainingly as only an outsider could.

He was well and truly beguiled. “When’s the next reunion?” he asked on the way home.