A gland, a pony and a burned-out bus

BC, oh how exasperated we got with, and superior we felt to, friends with children. The ones who turned up at our meeting place half-an-hour, an hour or even two, late, wearing half-apologetic, half defiant and totally exhausted looks, as their children burst, yelling, from the car to vanish, in several directions, who-knows-where. 'That'll never be us', we thought.

Yes, well.

Beri spiked a MONSTROUS temperature at 3:30 am of the morning we were due to leave, and his throat looked like he was having difficulty swallowing a golfball. So off he and I went for another emergency doctor's appointment, while Jeremy did what packing he could. Sid's contribution, when asked to get some clothes ready, was to spend her time looking for Pony Flakonie (her name) to the exclusion of all other activities. It's to Jeremy's credit, and infinite patience, that we left only and hour and a bit later than he wanted. Never mind - still time to see Portchester Castle, even if supper at a pizzeria was going to be a little more rushed than we wanted.

Yeah well and ha ha, that was without the burned-out bus, which brought the entire M3 to a shuddering halt. Ever sent your kids to play on a motorway? Well I have. But after over TWO HOURS of this the novelty had rather worn thin, and we were all relieved to get moving again. We skidded into line at the ferry terminal, ten minutes before we boarded. (And EVEN MORE credit to my husband for never once pointing out that, if we had left when he wanted us to, we would probably have been in Portsmouth before the bus even ignited.)

The children really enjoyed sleeping like little logs in our cabins. Jeremy and I - not so much. Woke up every time we turned over, figuring that we could stand it for one night. Again, ha ha - this was before we met the beds in our caravan. Oi veh.

Still and all, the weather is sunny, the swimming pool great fun, and the surrounding caravans populated by children of similar ages.

And Beri has been really cheerful all day.