Nanny McPhee

We are in Sandwich squabbling over whether Shark or Tiger saw the Tudor house first. I have forgotten to bring anything to drink and things are looking bad. There has already been a fight over who gets to sit down first on the bench outside the guildhall and Squirrel has shouted she is leaving this family while standing outside Sandwich police station. Dig calls up. He's in Malaysia now, where the food is lovely and the weather's fine, so thank goodness he decided not to go to Bangladesh where there might be storms. 'I have an au pair' says Dig. 'Tell me about it', I say.

Apparently Dig might be somewhere else in the world but that's no reason to stop the great au pair hunt. Sasha's coming over for August, which leaves plenty of months free to give up a room to a weeping teenager in exchange for a few language lessons and a few new additions to the laundry, which now routinely spews over the kitchen floor because the basket's squished full.

'She might arrive next Tuesday' says Dig. Dig doesn't get back until Tuesday. We get back Saturday night. This is not enough time to clear up the house, prepare a guest room and get rid of the fridge. 'We've not decided that yet', says Dig, encouragingly. I might have to put up a bit of a protest about this. 'I will text you the website', says Dig. 'My money's running out and I have to go for dinner'. It's just as well. Tiger and Shark are beginning a full-blown punch up and are swinging their picnic baskets at each other outside the tourist office. We've already been in there and I can't say the woman was helpful. She just kept her eyes on us the whole time, probably in case we stole her brochures.

'I'll look if I've got time' I answer, and Dig's gone, probably to enjoy a peaceful evening chatting about commas and being important. I separate the fight and we embark on the town walk. I get hopelessly lost in seconds because I'm concentrating on keeping everyone in single file down the narrow streets so they can't take pot shots at each other with their hampers.

So we have an au pair coming next week. She speaks French. That's all I know, probably until she turns up on the doorstep with a suitcase, Nanny McPhee style. And if I find out any more about that particular adventure before next week, I'll let you know.