We get a practice run next week. We’re taking the family away for two weeks and flying a respectable distance of 8 hours, hoping to get our urban-precious daughters back into the swing of travel.

We’re suffering from an Olympics hangover. Grasping for the remote, hoping to quench our thirst with one more early morning edition of Good Morning Rio, before stumbling back to bed to nurse our lethargy.

They were-a-hoopin-and-a-hollering! The kids just love Skoolbo. What’s Skoolbo? It’s a very cool little site allowing kids to compete in numeracy and literacy games with other kids across the planet. They can even customise the appearance of their lifelike cartoon profiles. Watching them search for the right shade of hair is priceless.

Nice is nice. I’ve thought a lot this week about the crazy world we live in and the senseless violence transforming innocent city streets into war zones.

The older I get the more I think about food. So naturally the more I think about our travel plans the more I think about the food we’ll eat.

It was bitterly cold and dark. My husband pulled the door across with unusual force, shutting the night away. His face said it all. It had been a very bad day at the office.