Sometimes it's nice to spend a few hours talking about the Sprogs rather than with them .... And so Husband and I passed a pleasant evening together at a fancy hotel restaurant down the road from our holiday house. Husband's best friend, who's been sharing the house and his truculent two-year-old with us for the... Continue Reading →

Two-year-olds are so frigging cute it's almost criminal. They're also the most effective birth control on the planet when they don't belong to you. That's because they cry about absolutely everything. They cry because they are tired. They cry because they are hungry. They cry because they want to take their shoes off. They cry... Continue Reading →

I'm not sure two-year-olds are cut out for touring medieval ruins. Or four-year-olds. Or five-year-olds. Or seven-year-olds. Or 43-year-olds for that matter. I thought Carcassone would be a no-brainer - restored castle walls containing multitude of cheap souvenir shops and junk food. But no. The masses still revolted ... were revolting. Our group of four... Continue Reading →

Ok, it's not really a cottage we're staying in. Unless cottages are three stories high with six bedrooms, three bathrooms, multiple living areas and medieval turret. I just though "manor" might sound a bit pretentious and lessen sympathy for our medical crisis. And while it's not quite as glamorous as the pictures on the website... Continue Reading →

Sprog 1 started pissing blood yesterday (that vomit fountain wasn't caused by Fartons, palm oil-fried crackers, bananas, a virus or car sickness after all). Going by how challenging it was to get a beer from the apathetic and non-English-speaking hotel staff, I didn't anticipate getting medical assistance would be a walk in the park. After finally wrestling the front desk guy's attention from his constant mobile phoning, only... Continue Reading →

1. Six-hour car trips where nothing entertaining happens except service station attendants trying to flog you 2-for-1 bottles of wine instead of Kit-Kats. 2. Smeary touch screen on iPad requiring one-fingered guess-typing while being held at strange angles to escape the glaring mediterranean sun. 3. Sprogs being hungry. 4. Sprogs being thirsty. 5. Sprogs wanting... Continue Reading →

Choices you shouldn't give your children on holidays: Would you like to admire the Spanish countryside as we drive to the historic town of Guadalest or bury your head in a Doctor Who book the whole way? Do you want to try a delicious local speciality of meatballs wrapped in cabbage for lunch or order... Continue Reading →

Suri Cruise needs to go to bed earlier. I'm an outspoken member of the head-shaking press pack that questions the wisdom of letting a five-year-old stay up so late. But I've let Sprog 2 lead a Suri-style lifestyle on our holiday, and I'm paying the price. On our first night in Singapore, we didn't get... Continue Reading →

I have these ridiculous, unwritten rules when it comes to my diet. If no-one is watching, it doesn't count. If it's stolen off someone else's plate, it doesn't count. If it's a canape, it doesn't count. And if it's consumed on a holiday, all bets are off. (Warning: those repulsed by gluttony should stop reading... Continue Reading →

Woody Allen is an odd little man. But I think he's onto something with Midnight in Paris: people like to imagine their golden age to be in the past rather than the present. I've been doing that a lot lately. Owen Wilson's character thought Paris in the 1920s was his nirvana; I've convinced myself modern-day... Continue Reading →