Today

The Grit framily has returned from their screaming holiday in Kent and I am doing the laundry. Four loads full. It is a bit smelly. Most of the dresses have wee on them. There are no toilets at Romney beach, but very good shingle dunes.

After a little while of the laundry, I have to start clearing up the mess in the house that was there before we left. I didn't do it then, but we have visitors tomorrow. I see I managed to arrange a hospitality session for tomorrow. It may end up in hospital, actually.

Because I am now doing everything, clearing out the car, unpacking, the laundry, extracting wooden spoons from the dishwasher with hairy mould on them, striding about the house shouting, tripping over Lego, pointing accusing fingers at small people, clutching my forehead, wailing about how no-one helps - because of all this I have to hide upstairs and cry. I have a bar of chocolate for company which helps. Tissues would help too, but we haven't got any, and someone has rolled the remainder of the toilet roll into a ball and stuck a toothbrush in it.

When I come down I decide to open the mail. This is prompted by the fact that there's a letter on the table outside that looks like it's been nailed on the door in our absence. It's from the water board. They say they're cutting us off. I open a letter from British Gas containing the nearest expression we'll get to an apology after they threatened us with the police. Then there's the monthly threat from the TV licence people who say they're coming round as well.

If they all came round on the same day - the TV people, the water board, the gas board, and the debt collection agency (re: our ongoing dispute) - then I could organise a tour, and probably charge for teas and coffees in the front room.

If this wasn't quite enough of a first day back, Dig rings up on Skype. Apparently he's had a very nice time in Malaysia, what with the bars, and the chit chat, and the food, and the invitation to Bali. He speaks to Squirrel and then says, 'Have you done any baking?'

'Have you done any baking???' I shout. I am a bit incredulous.

Surely Dig, what you really mean to ask Squirrel is, 'Has your mother survived the day without killing herself? Keep an eye on her, because there's still a few hours to go before midnight.'

Dig, you could add: 'I am sorry I did not screw on the door handle in the office, so that when you slam the door behind the retreating, squabbling kids, then, after ten minutes go to open it again, the door handle comes off in your hand and you are locked in.'