Priorities

Here's the plan.

Tomorrow we all drive to Wales to drop off Squirrel for her adventure holiday week, then we come home, by which time Aunty Dee will have arrived.

On Sunday morning, Aunty Dee takes over the management of Shark and Squirrel, then me and Dig leave on the train to get to Heathrow and on to Cairo in the afternoon.

That sounds very well worked out. Except at this point, with less than 24 hours before Squirrel is thrown out onto a Welsh mountain, I haven't located or packed a thing for her. The list is quite exhaustive, requiring multiple pairs of trainers for wet and dry activities, trousers suitable for all weathers, long socks and short socks, and tee-shirts with varying sleeve lengths.

Neither have I stocked up on any essentials for tomorrow's journey, like fruity buns, apple juice and 4-hour CD stories for the car. That means trips to the Co-op and library. Tomorrow, Aunty Dee will be two hours late because she drives everywhere at ten miles an hour, even on the A1. And I have nothing suitable for a first-class return journey from Cairo apart from a pair of torn jeans, so fit in a shopping trip. I could, of course, wear the jeans anyway and hope they make me look like a rock chick and not a freeloading bag lady. And I have yet to leave a full fridge, maps and instructions for Monday. On Monday Tiger is booked into an all day workshop at the art gallery and Shark starts her stage two sailing course at the lake. Aunty Dee, who drives everywhere at ten miles an hour, has to get them there. On time.

But then I spot that today there is a very good workshop on insects over at a local country park. The wardens there are excellent and can tell us all about Carabus violaceus if we accidentally stand on one. If I pick Squirrel up from her final kayak session I could just make that, and then we can learn all about beetles and bugs and slugs and slow worms and this will be very good for home education.

I tell Dig we are now out until tea time, and he asks, what about the packing? What about Wales? What about Aunty Dee? What about Cairo? Dig, I say, everything will be alright. Trust me. At this point, what could possibly go wrong?