So, it turns out none of my offspring were reading this blog while I was away.

Unfortunately, our flight home has been delayed by four hours.

We’re down to that pointy end of the holiday when you have to think carefully what swimwear you’re going to get wet, because you’re going to have to take it home still damp.

So, probably not sea lice according to the resort dive master. 

In which our hero fucks up another holiday with an unexpected but debilitating physical malady.

Does that make me sound like a wanker?

Have spent quite a bit of my morning on hold.

There are three sorts of people.

I’m not sure what version of off white the doggies are.

Catdog strikes again.