Well it's not something you hear everyday.

But Mr PR could not resist, on finding himself at very clcose proximity to a certain actor from the soap wedged in the same chaotic queue we were in at Kefalonia airport, making this statement in a very loud voice.

The actor concerned did what lots of people do in close proximity to us (see Prince Charles at garden party debacle) and totally ignored us.

But Mr PR did get to 'sniff' him - and despite being scornful of all soaps and really not caring if he'd been standing next to Cheryl Cole in a thong rubbing his leg suggestively (ok maybe not...) it was an interesting observation and I'm sure made a change from the usual

'Blimey you're that Dev from Corrie aren't you can you sign my white bits?'

We all smelt a bit ripe to be fair -but it's good to know that being a sleb is no protector from the greek aviation calamity.

Yes - it was email olympics for me today. Managed to high dive, pole vault and 100 m sprint through the 386 emails sitting in my inbox awaiting my attention. I sort of filed them into a) boring b) boring but possibly important and c) you cheeky bastards I turn my back for two weeks and you try to pull this outrageous stunt...

I then volley-balled my way through an audit update - and then spent most of the day fending off a disciplinary hearing (not mine I would like to add), a tender process (not as in love me sadly) and finally some quality time with my much missed and adoring colleagues. I think they were pleased to have the boss back, certainly they admired the tan and made the right noises as I listed the A - Z of the robinson holiday (Air rage through impetigo to Zorba's orbs)

Rushed home from work hell bent on avenging the mystery garden waste attacker who I can now confirm also removed the 'sold' sign from our drive. My cunning and pathetic plan was to write the word 'still' just above the for sale sign on their drive and get it out of my system. I was distracted however by the sight of Mr PR's best friend's car outside our house...

His love life (the friend not Mr PR) more complex and salacious than your average tory minister, has been a daily soap opera on our holiday delivered in tantalising text messages - text messages I might add that Mr PR failed to probe in anything like enough detail. I wanted to take over the correspondence myself to get all the details but resisted.

Here's a taster of the text opera.....

'It's all gone horrbly wrong - terrible scene at ****#s house when (the wife) turned up just as we'd got out of the bath'

'All gone wrong here - don't tell ** about ** for god's sake'

'Am in France - been kicked out I knew I wouldn't get my pension'

Honestly - it was just the most wonderfully juicy gossip you could hope for, far better than any chicklit I was reading. It's an old story really, 47 yr old bloke suddenly led by his hyperactive penis into endless pointless beds (and slappers) and gets caught and is now self cast as the old fool in the no fool proverb.

He'll live. But Mr PR, as I hovered for the latest installment said

'I've forgotten most of it'

AGGH! Must leave tape recorder next time he visits, honestly men are no good at this kind of thing. Having met 'the wife' I can well imagine the 'terrible scene'. Marvellous stuff.

Sadly this wasn't the only interesting contact with the UK we had while away. I got this voicemail from my childminder

'Julia - your cheque bounced - thanks alot - by the way you're paying the £90 bank charges'

I DO NOT write bouncy cheques so was spitting as I called my bank who said yes the cheque was bounced because the childminder hadn't put her complicated name on it as I asked her to. Doh.

And then we got a text from Doug's brother 'Allan-it's- my -business-in life-to-wreck-everyone's-life -but -in-the-sweetest-possible-way-by- taking-passive-aggressive-to-new-dizzying-heights' Allan always sends us a mental and passive aggressive text when we're away, last time it was 'The baby is now out of hospital not that anyone bothered to visit hope you're having a lovely time' (NB the baby was a perfectly healthy sprog and was both born and released while we were in Egypt)

This holiday we got this one ...
'Mum's been to your house someone is sleeping in it hope you're having a lovely holiday' Well....we were Allan.....but thanks to you we then spent two hours frantically trying to find out if next door's teenage boys were using their cat feeding key to shag every bird that sauntered past in a crop top.

Other than that i have now reversed the suitcases into the washing machine and am now just about at the summit. Plainly the washing machine has done a hotpoint two finger salute so is now sulking through its tenth cycle on the same beach towels I put in yesterday. How irritating.

As for the ironing...oh my god....well actually no I just won't do it. I have filed it into a) boring b) boring but might be needed so will pay for it to be done and c) no chance that particular mini ra ra skirt is only worn twice a year and well away from anyone who knows me.

My joy about the rain has worn off too - am now feeling cold and wishing I lived in Kefalonia. Other than the whole irritating italian thing obviously...oh and the air rage incident with Mrs fat arse child hater who in my view should travel in the hold next time she goes anywhere.Preferably in a coffin.

Ah. Good. Back to venomous normal.....all is well.

I am so pleased to see rain - 2 weeks of relentless sun and heat(yeah tough I know) has almost unhinged me. I like rain. I like our climate. I like not having to spend my entire day thinking of ways to keep cool.

No point in being cutesy putesy about it - here's the lowdown on the Robinson holiday in Kefalonia.

1. We were late as usual for check - in - we always are - this started the first and only row of our holiday.

2. We got to Kefalonia and were pretty, no, very very very pissed off to find that the 'interconnecting rooms' the dopey peroxided travel agent in the first choice shop had promised turned out to be two very much not connected rooms quite a long sodding way from each other.

3. Pissed off became rage after endless phone calls which resulted in the following advice from good old first choice...
'Um - could the kids sleep on their own? Or maybe just the 6 yr old' I whispered the word madeleine and she beat a hasty telephone retreat.
'Er. what about praying that someone else decides not to come on holiday and also happens to be a family of 4?'
'How about using one room to sleep in (this was a very small room) and the other to get dressed in?'

4. Advice then turned to hostility
'Take it up with the branch when you get home'
'The island is full -you'll have to make do'
'No you can't go home - no flights - make the best of it'

OK - make do on a £4,400 holiday? I think fecking not.....

So realising that the entire intellectual capacity of the first choice employees put together is less than a bottle of aftersun, we decided to sort it ourselves. Quite literally -noone in a rep type uniform gave a toss. My brother called to say he'd found a studio 'Go and meet Monica she'll sort you out'

Monica was great - the studio not that great but better than a fortnight of living like single parents or perhaps trying a bit of child neglect as endorsed by the holiday company. Mr PR had by now got a car (in a temper so didn't shop around) and was ready to throttle everyone on Kefalonia and then had a brainwave. We went, like Mary and Joseph (only without the bump and considering the room arrangements no chance of a bump) begging at the hotel we stayed in last year.

Yes they had a large suite. Yes we could have it. I nearly kissed the receptionist - she was horrified at what had happened and merrily told me that would be 350 euros a night. Done. Anything better than the crap we'd been left to rot in. 1000 euros would have been ok the mood I was in.

We checked in and all was well. Henry however was rather overcome by now, and puked by the pool - luckily the place was empty as normal people had gone to dinner. The next day I tracked down the rep - and thaked her for all the help we'd received. Especially the bit about letting the boys sleep on their own round the corner and down a corridor. She curtly told me to 'take it up with Watford' (not the whole town I hope just their poxy shop) and I began to understand that the value of customer delight my own employer holds so dear is an alien concept to First choice.

We started to enjoy our extremely expensive holiday and tried to froget we were in for just under 9 grand...the letters could wait till we got home.

Don't know why but something nagged at me - I decided to call the dozy first choice shop in watford to enquire about the complaints process. Reluctantly they told me I'd need to fill form 5463g in or something, and would have to meet the rep ' in resort'. So a surly young lady and I spent a very happy half hour together filling the form in and then she told me it 'don't make much difference'

Time for a swim!!!

By now we'd trucked around the island in our little car, an island we love I might add,and as long as we didn't see any reps our blood pressure stayed normal. And then Charlie complained about toothache....oh no...here we go...

Like a flash I was sitting in front of the charming Dr Michaelides at 9pm being relieved of 90 euros for the consultation and then a further 30 for the antibiotics for Charlie's ear infection.5 days later the charming man confirmed Charlie was in the clear but still no diving etc. And then 2 days later I was back again - by now charming Doc was obviously wondering if I wanted him to perhaps examine me if you get my drift - as I presented Henry and his strange bites. Bites which were in fact impetigo - ye gods no pool for Henry and yet more bloody antibiotics and cream and christ the suite was starting to resemble a well stocked pharmacy.

One amusing medical moment was when I sauntered into a little shop full of old men and asked for vaseline (FOR CHARLIE'S EAR PLEASE.. BEHAVE) and was treated to several greek winks and nods about the many uses of vaseilne when on holiday in the Ionian. Difficulty to maintain your dignity in that situation - I just smiled sweetly and fled.

By now the strain was too much - Mr PR and I got utterly battered and were both horribly horribly ill ourselves as punishment. I didn't realise that Kefalonian rose is in fact 100% proof and could double as a chemical weapon, and he didn't realise that 18 pints of whiskey would nearly kill him. But we enjoyed it. It was time off from the relentless business of feeling abandoned and stitched up by first choice, visting the doctor and his grumpy chemist, buying of snorkels, ice creams, general tat and rubbish that each of my boys are obsessed with - especially 'shop for england' Charlie who actually spent most mornings talking about and planning his next purchase of tat and most afternoons nagging us to take him to a shop.

Out of shops both boys are a delight - in them and it's enough to send Joan of Arc over the edge.

For them the holiday, aside from the penicillin and the 4 veruccas we found tonight, was a wonderful adventure of beaches, underground lakes and of course, the finest restaurant in the world...the Mystic Gusto. I think they would live there if they could, the greek dancing got them on their feet in seconds as I sludged through my lager. Doug was quite taken with the dancing too - though I think the enthusaism of the waitress who morphed into some kind of can can high kicking zorba was greater than her talent or indeed her bra strength. Many men were mesmerised by her bouncing zorba orbs and laughably tried to effect genuine interest by saying to their kids 'let's get closer -you can see better then' HA!

So we've come home to a bizarre garden rubbish attack at the back of our house - the culprits were seen and they're neighbours who are just pissed off because we've sold our house and they haven't. I've got 2 medical insurance forms to fill in, a very long letter to write to First (Last) Choice (Chance) and some other admin I can't quite remember.Oh, and I need to take their garden rubbish back to them this evening.

Oh yes, alomst forgot - while Mr PR was off getting a car in a temper, I got locked in one of the two rooms neither of which I wanted (if you get my drift). Truly was locked in - and I couldn't get the aircon to work. Panic set in. And the phone was constantly engaged. I tried to kick the door in but hurt my toe 'Silly mummy' said Charlie who was not panicking' Eventually someone came and let me out. I was, by then , beyond rage.

So tomorrow I'll regale you with the other highlights
1. How much the Italians irritated me
2. How I almost got into an air rage incident on the way out
3. Why formatting your camera when you've no clue what you're doing is a very bad idea
4. Why thinking for one second that first choice might have managed to get us to the airport for our return flight was likely even though they'd been told 3 times and I'd checked twice....

But we had a good time. Honestly we did

I honestly believe that today I have covered about 18 miles - not including driving - by tearing around like a loony getting the Robinsons ready for 2 weeks away from casa robinson.

At least I know why I spend my life doing laundry (well not quite but you get the gist) the vital statistics of our clothing requirements would defy Imelda Marcos.

1. A staggering total of 70 T-shirts for males of assorted ages.
2. Probably not far off that number of shorts given Henry's recent unreliability in the wee department. The other males are continent just to be clear.
3. Then my stuff - oh sweet lamb chops I have got some stuff.

Then the trunkies.

Then the baby milk even though I don't have a baby anymore and have no intention of ever getting another one (roll on menopause)

I've ironed everything just so I can squash it into a suitcase and crease it again. And now I can't remember if I've packed Charlie's epi-pen so the whole lot will have to come out....calpol...oh god did I pack that?

Glam isn't it?!

So we leave a 4am for a 7 am flight and will be sipping Greek earthquake red cross liquid food by supper time (I shouldn't joke)

I'm already worrying about Matilda who is distinctly moody if go we go off for a week - such is the breathtaking feline hypocrisy of the creature who has openly shared a home with the family at number 21 for the past year or so.

And so we're off - just as I was getting into blogging again and making new friends I will fall silent for 2 weeks.

Bet you can't wait!!

there's some kind of crisis in our holiday destination. Much as I love Kefalonia, it is a bit hormonal in the natural disaster stakes. Last year the place was on fire, this year it's on fire and they've had a couple of earthquakes. In 1953 they had an earthquake which demolished most of it and it was only rebuilt in time for Nicholas Cage and the mindlessly irritating Penelope Cruz to rock up and play his mandolin (so to speak)

Despite this I have spent most of today doing what I always do before a holiay

1. Wish I'd started thinking about required clothing etc 2 weeks ago
2. Wish Henry could possibly detox from cow and gate milk and perhaps try some normal milk - I have to fill an entire case with the stuff and yes it's very very heavy.
3. Wish Henry could board a flight without needing to hold a bottle of his cow and gate milk through security as I always have to take a slug of it to prove it isn't a cow and gate dirty bomb...I'd rather taste a dirty bomb quite frankly.

Today saw the arrival of the much awaited 'trunkies' These are little kiddy suitcases which double up as a handy sit on and wheel along toy. They are now crammed with all the things Charlie and Henry have decided they will need to survive :

1 Not cow and gate milk in Henry's - god no - Mum lugs that about
2 Water pistols and emergency contingency water pistols (I'm still recovering from the very real looking pistol that Charlie aged 3 was given which I threw away in December which then reappeared as if by magic at Gatwick in July causing something of a 'situation')
3. Stethoscope and power drill
4. Nintendo DS and charger
5. Pants - lots of pants - these boys really take their pants very seriously.

I put on my new bikini this morning to a) frighten the boys into tidying their rooms and b) critically appraise things in terms of just how embarrasing it could be if I step outside our villa in it.

Actually it didn't look too bad - if you consider that I'm 40...I think Kylie would probably have the edge but let's face it an arse is an arse and once covered in stripy lycra things even up quite a bit. It's just that some people need more lycra than others..

Sorry about the international lycra shortage - if you were going out to buy a swimsuit this week probably isn't the best time to do so.

so I've turned into Norman Wisdom.

This morning in the v smart corporate eaterie I left a trail of milk from my over filled muesli - and laughed about it.

Than I knocked over and smashed a large glass bottle of tabasco (why do they put that out for breakfast?)It gave me and another bloke a fair old spicy splashing - dress down Friday has never been so colorful.

I laughed again. Lots.

Chortled my way back to my desk and then went to apologise to the staff who have to clear up after idiots like me.

I'm now officially on annaul leave - can't be bad.

So tonight I trailed around looking for summer clothing not realising that in retail land the ice age has arrived. Helpful.

My good chum Debbie has revealed that she's Kandinksy/Mondrian having protested for as long as I've worked with her that she's not creatvie. EH?!!!!!

So I'm looking forward to my house warming canvas - am very excited about it. Acrylics and everything! Last time I owned any acrylics I think they gave out friction sparks under my netball skirt.

Had to

Couldn't stop worrying about the horse.

They're sending an inspector out to check on things.

So I'll book a taxi now then to get to work as I doubt I'll have wheels or a roof by morning.

But it had to be done.

Can we please stop with the animal thing now??

Animals everywhere. Honestly, I can't move for them this week.

I found out that having a robin red breast in your house (yes it did happen see dolittle post) is a portent of imminent death in the house -but the good news is that robins do apparently cover your corpse with moss. There isn't much moss in Watford, and I'm hoping there won't be any corpses in my part of Watford either. It's made me a bit jumpy - there's something very unsettling about 16th century folklore. Not that I believe in it or anything but they must have basedthis on something. Some bloke obviuosly had a robin in his house and then got hit by a horse and cart or something...hmm...horses.

But before I discuss local horse... the whole 'moth in a pudding' business which was so speedily put right by the store went speedily wrong tonight when I triumphantly produced my £10 goodwill gesture token which, wait for it, had no cash on it. So the man behind me in the queue thought I was mental, the lad on the till thought I was taking the piss, and despite reliving the moth incident in graphic detail full payment was demanded which led to a sizeable though dignified strop at the customer services desk.

'I'll have to go and train him on how they work' she said

'It's a piece of plastic, not the hubble telescope, how hard can it be? Just give me £10 and I'll go away'

'No can do Im afraid, I just can't get into the system'

'But you can get into the till - look, there's a tenner, just give me that and stuff your plastic goodwill and I'll be off'

'Can you come back and try another day?'

'Certainly. What am I thinking here? Your goodwill gesture for trying to kill me with a moth should of course be on your terms and I should of course try to cash it in when the moons are correctly aligned. So sorry - I thought somehow a good will gesture meant making things up with me.'

So then a horse (I did say I had a horse to talk about do keep up) that's just appeared (yes highly probably belonging to people who prefer fluid living arrangements and I don't mean fish) by the childminder's house decided to have a bit of a nibble at my car. Well, more of a drool actually as I pulled up to enquire of the 2 under 8's in charge of it whether its owner intended to keep it there permanently on a 6 foot square of very short grass and no water.

Should have kept out of it really, but I'm worried about the horse since it's only decent meal of late has been Henry's ear and my upholstery.
I would call the RSPCA but knowing my luck it'll be a big palaver and someone scary will come and slash my tyres.

The house move continues to move at lightning speed - am now bombarded with admin to do around cess pits and light fittings. Frankly I just want to get going asap - I am rapidly losing interest in keeping this house clean and tidy....well that's my excuse anyway.

gone.

The house is sold. And you only have to drop the price by ooh 45k on market value these days.

But all is not lost. Because Mr PR is a 'don't mess with me' kind of guy - the complicated deal (well, I thought it was I wanted to focus on all the new things I will 'need') which we (he) struck with the developer of our new house, was, shall we say, pushing it a bit.

1. Pay our stamp duty
2 Pay our estate agent fees
3. Don't bother us with negotiations etc so yes please get whoever you like to market it
4. We want a good price from you
5. We know you'll have to sell it for alot less and take a hit
6. We'd like you to pay the legal stuff
7. Oh and carpets please
8. Nice bit of turf wouldn't go amiss actually...
9. Erm that's all for now - ooh nearly forgot we want to be in by october so get cracking.
10. Sorry, there is one more thing - you need to take 10k off your market price on the new house.

I thought it was cheeky.

But it worked and I can now focus on curtains and feng shui while Mr PR continues on a roll and gets an astonishing mortgage deal etc.

So we're off.

Bye bye Mrs Prosser 2 doors down who wants to stab us for undercutting her but for whom I have no sympathy since she accused Charlie of being a bully (he is many things - a bully isn't one of them)

Bye bye busy road, annoying man next door with old ford capri fetish that I'm tired of seeing

Bye bye Matilda....you bring in one more sodding robin redbreast and you don't get to bagsy a new bedroom.

I'm not kidding on this!!!

Good news today on the animal front - no real interventions other than a wasp which chanced its arm on my foot and got squashed shortly afterwards (accidentally I confess I am a bit of a pseudo buddhistso was upset about this)

back to the feng shui.

maybe we need some kind of chicken run/aviary.

I'd have got a job in bloody Whipsnade.

Today has been topped and tailed by curious animal interactions.

At 7am I was downstairs doing my usual frenzy of getting my usual 2 animals ready for the childminder and trying to calm my hair down, when I heard this

'Mummy? Mummy? Come and see this it's amaaaazing'

OK I often hear about amaaaazing things from my little boys, usually they are not that amazing and involve some interesting faeces or something one of them has produced. But then I heard this

'Hello. Where did you come from? What is your name? Who are you? Why are you here? Oh wow...'

Henry had adopted (at 3) the soft tone you might expect if an alien life form had appeared on your landing and actually by now I was resigned to my 74th ascent of my stairs.Just in case ET had decided to land in North Watford. Well you never know...

I found the boys standing in awe and pointing to the ceiling

'Look Mummy. Isn't that amazing'

Well, actually, since I thought a bat was on the loose in Henry's room the word amazing wasn't quite what sprang to mind.

I bravely screamed and then Charlie said

'It's ok mummy, it's come to see us.'

'It' was a traumatised robin red breast which was indeed flapping about in Henry's room and I really couldn't muster any thoughts on what to do. So I did what I always do.

'DOUG!!! THERE'S A FECKING BIRD FLYING ROUND HENRY'S BEDROOM!!!!!'

Doug opened on eye and suggested I open the window and shut the door, like it's something that happens everyday. Gingerly I went back in and the poor little things heart was almost pounding out of its chest from its new resting place on the curtain pole.

Great. It's going to bloody well drop dead now in front of my highly sensitive six yr old and actually I don't need this right now.

20 minutes later after accusing the cat of this heinous crime, though she stared at me with utter contempt, I crept back in to see if operation window had worked. Well of course it hadn't, and by now Henry was in a frenzy about his new friend and could we please keep it?
Just as I was about to call the RSPB and invite them to my son's bedroom, the robin mustered what was left of its strength and flew away. The relief, and the heartfelt 'good luck little bird, good luck getting back to your mummy and daddy' from the boys was quite moving.

'Won't be the last bird we find in Henry's bedroom' Doug commented from the safety of our room.

I wiped a tear and got back to the hair taming.

The day then ended with an indulgence of fudge pudding or something which looked too good to stay in the fridge, despite me being on full blown holiday diet alert, and as we reminisced about our little birdy and speculated about how it was getting on ( I just know it's dead from a coronary) I found a large dead moth in my pudding. My expensive sainsbury's pudding.

Enraged, I took the specimen straight back to the store, made something of an entrance and then unwrapped it with some drama as everyone crowded round to see what I had in my tissue after my intriguing 'Who's got a strong stomach then?' opener.

Full refund and a goodwill voucher later, and an offer of a new pudding (which I declined funnily enough) it was time to call time on my day with our feathered and winged friends.

Does anyone else have days like this or is it just some giant cosmic whoopy cushion at work from the minute I open my eyes?

Well????