Aussie style weather is forecast for today. Yippee!

Yesterday, I enjoyed the weather, and I tried to not feel too guilty about it. How often does  Britain enjoy the same weather as St Tropez or the Costa del Sol in the summer? It feels like holiday time here in Hampshire. It is easy forget that a lot of Londoners are sweltering in the crowded underground or overland trains. Outdoor workers must be keeling over. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.

The first year of the Millennium was eventful for us: Anna needed plastic surgery, we rented Corn Close Cottage in the Cotswolds, Hugo began school at Eaton House, and I began work for Mr and Mrs Connecticut on their seaside home in Salcombe.

The year before, however, was a bit tepid – a bit blah. I was made redundant by the American law firm I worked part time for. There was not enough work, and the insurance policy we were helping a Lloyd’s syndicate to launch – failed to launch. Geoff was working hard at his new job as Finance Director for Centaur Media. The weather in Norfolk during our summer holidays with the Barbers – was bad.

The new year arrived. I felt down. Maria Guyard, the beautiful Swedish mother at Anna’s school, suggested I take the children to Club Med Sandpiper Bay in Florida. I used some of my redundancy money to fly to the sun in January, 2000. Geoff couldn’t take a break from his new job.

Sadly, I discovered on arrival that the resort was not on a bay connected to the sea. It appeared to be on an inland lake. Big disappointment. The day after we arrived we hit the pool for the first half of the day. At lunchtime, I wandered over to Reception to ask when the trip to Disneyland Orlando was scheduled. I had promised the children this “experience of a lifetime”. The receptionist said in her super-southern-American voice, “I am sooo sorry Ma’am. That trip left this morning.” I asked when the next one would be. “After you leave” was the response. She broke the devastating news with a big smile, revealing orthodontically-perfected, pearly-white nashers.

I promptly went into meltdown. I started speaking very quickly in a high-pitched, stressed voice. I explained that we had come all the way from London to visit Disneyland, apart of course to visit Club Med which was “marvellous”, blah, blah blah. She said that I would have to hire a van. “How much would that cost?” I asked. “US$200,” she smiled.

Any parent in my shoes would have done the same thing, if they could. I coughed up the money.

The driver turned up in a very large recreational vechile. I am not fatist, but he was very large. He could barely squeeze out of the driving seat. To make matters worse, I had no idea that Disneyland was so far away from the resort. It was a two hour drive there: along highways that were flat, sparsely inhabited, with little scrubby vegetation. And swampland. We were in a backwater.

At this stage Anna was 5 and Hugo was 4. They got really bored. I kept their spirits up by saying banal things like, “It’s almost time for the ride of our lives!” or “Wait to you have a cuddle with Micky Mouse!”

Finally, we were there. After five tedious hours at the resort, as the children were too small to go on many rides, we met our driver to make our way back to Club Med. After about an hour on a badly lit, deserted highway, the RV broke down. Mr Driver told me that we would have to sleep in the van, as they could not get a replacement vehicle to us until the next morning. I snapped. “I will not pay you a penny!” I muttered through clenched teeth. He thought I’d paid. Somehow he radioed that a vehicle must be found for the Hysterical Mother from Hell.

Out of the black night came, like a panther, a stretch limousine. And out stepped a cowboy of a man, named Bear. Sadly, he did not look like Bear Grylls. He looked like he’d seen and done a few things in his time. Finally, we were safely back on the road. I took in my surroundings. The interior of the limousine was padded in red velvet, and there were cheap glass decanters in the doors filled with yellow spirits. It felt like a lot of action had gone down in this limo!

Bear wound down the glass partition between us. “Ma’am, is there anything I can do for you?” I nodded. “Yes, we need food.” After McDonalds – we were awash with fast food – Bear struck up conversation with me. Being Aussie, I couldn’t help but to engage. I couldn’t freeze him into silence. Now I can, but then I couldn’t.

As Bear dropped me off, he handed me his card and said, “I’d sure like to show ya’ll around tomorrow.” I muttered that I thought we’d be very busy. Still the phone rang and rang and rang. And it wasn’t Geoff. I told Geoff to ring three times, hang up and ring again. A code to avoid Bear.

Apart from the Disneyland trip, we had fun by the pool, and the children went to Kid’s Club. Gave me a bit of respite. I often talked to an extended family by the pool. At the end of the holiday one of them said to me, “Why did he divorce you? You seem so nice.”

Today I am off to see Nicky at her farm. She has been pulling weeds out of a field that kill livestock. She is a trooper.