Sorry about the silence. Am perfectly well (although rather grumpy) following an Internet-free, four-day break in the Shropshire wilds. Despite a delightful location, snug cottage, and a lovely visit to my uncle, I am grumpy because, yet again, it all went horribly wrong. Here is a summary of the last few times I've ventured away from home:
July 2005 - We were burgled. The resultant damage cost over £10,000, and ten months, to put right.
July 2006 - A postman named ALAN JENKINS smashed into my car (on my birthday) in a remote part of the Isle of Jura (itself pretty remote), and I had to take 50% blame DESPITE BEING STATIONARY AT THE TIME (still seething over that one).
Oct 2006 Had major row with husband, and had to be talked out of divorcing him on the spot by very good friend (thanks, Maggie!)
May 2007: My Dad, who was with us (in isolated Scottish cottage), had suspected heart attack.
Oct 2007: Small girl had croup for two days, baby teethed for two days/nights, small girl broke her leg.
Feb 2008: Small boy was unexpectedly, and spectacularly, sick in the car. Spent the whole time convinced he was going to vomit at any moment. Baby teethed solidly; got no sleep. Had four-day headache instead. Got £60 parking ticket.
I'm never going away again, ever...