I sometimes wonder why I have a house as I see so little of it. This week we are paying a visit to the Isle of Wight. Not so much a holiday but a chance to see friends and family as, this time, small person Edward is bringing his parents and will be joining us. Last night was a local pub quiz. In a needle final round my team, by judicious playing of our joker, scraped a victory. Who knew that we could summon up so much knowledge of the Bible? We will however draw a veil over our performance in the science and music rounds. We scored by having our very own Australian team member, who was able to share the vital information that wombats have square poo.

After the quiz, adrenaline was running high and I found it even more difficult than usual to sleep. Believe me it is pretty difficult for me to sleep worse than usual. I was due at Chris’ for departure in the caravan at 9.00am. Chris’ house is a 12 minute drive away. Regardless of what time I go to bed, or how well I sleep, my natural waking up time is 6.00am + or – half an hour. Maybe a dozen times a year I might still be asleep by 7.00am. The only time I ever set an alarm is when we are working in a school and need to leave home before 7.00am and then I am almost always awake long before the alarm goes off. This morning I woke up thinking it was probably about 7.00am, after all, I had had a late night. I turned on the computer to check my emails before I disappeared into an internet-less black hole. I peered at the clock in the corner, oh good it was only 6.37. ‘That’s funny,’ thinks I, ‘it seems to be quite light outside’. I peer more closely at the bottom right hand corner of my screen 8.37!!! 8.37?!!! I can’t remember ever being asleep at 8.36 (it takes a minute to turn the computer on). If I have ever slept at such a ridiculous hour it is definitely more than forty years ago.

I made it to Chris’ for 9.20 and we said goodbye to our house-sitting Australian friends. It was an uneventful drive to deliver pasties and birthday cards in Christchurch and we had made up for lost time. After that things went less well. What should have been a 45 minute drive to the ferry terminal took nearly twice as long due to roadworks and we arrived at check-in with only minutes to spare. That may sound like ‘in time’ but you are supposed to be there a hour before departure.

I am now snuggled in the caravan trying to conserve my energy levels ready for five days at Edward pace. I spent my first ever holiday on the Isle of Wight when I was three, so it will be exciting to share it with a three year old. For those who are familiar with my Harnessing the Facebook Generation booklet, I shall be trying to put some of my ideas for inspiring young people to take an interest in history and heritage into practice while I have access to a small person.