Excitement of my Spanish hols is getting too much

I have a lot to do – so much that I am currently stapling number four sheet of A3 to the rest of the five-foot list.

My dad (who incidentally moved in for two weeks last summer while he was selling his house and is still here) picks his moments, and decided to clear out the shed yesterday. Now my house is also chock-full of tat.

I am pained to throw it all away because I know that I can flog much of it on my warehouse stall, so in between working, being a loving and calm mother, cleaner and cook, responsible dog owner and fashion icon, I am also turning into David Dickinson, albeit marginally less orange, as I sort through the Mount Etna-sized mountain of thrift trying to find the real deal.

This is on top of things the Teen keeps reminding me that she needs, which include vivid orange shorts and copious doctor/dentist appointments.

Meanwhile I am trying to grab a better mortgage deal before I go, which has become a full-time job in itself.

Oh and then there are troublesome cats, who need worming and flea treatment or better still, a new home. I need to locate a sat nav, find my driving licence and find out what time our flight is, possibly organise a lift to the airport, oh, and check-in online.

And then there is the minor problem of looking like a hairy gorilla, so that needs sorting too before I expose my legs to the elements, and the stares of the horror-stricken Spaniards.

Then I have an armful of stories to write before I can even contemplate tackling the domestic list, all on top of a minor hangover because a so-called “friend” asked me to be his plus one last night – clearly because of my fascinating chatter and charm (guffaw).

I have also just been told that I need to take out some travel insurance. I need Euros and health insurance.

My panic over my domestic state of affairs is at least preoccupying me from fretting about flying and driving to somewhere south of the region on the wrong side of the road in the wrong side of a car.

However, I am lucky that I am going away and I am lucky that I have lovely friends to be going away with, so I am going to quit the complaints and start to dream about sunny days, warm beaches, ancient towns, and the carefree bella figura sway that I will adopt.

Thankfully my friend has just rung and offered to deal with the car hire, travel insurance and check-in.

There is much to be said for appearing incapable of these things, and wafting round like a prima donna.

Every cloud.

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