My father was a civil servant with the Foreign Office and often attended meetings all over the world. Mum usually stayed at home, or if not I would stay with Aunty Peggy who only lived 5 minutes away. One particular summer holiday, father was to attend a week-long series of meetings in New York and mum was desperate to go, so Aunty Peggy was drafted in as cover. She was a spinster and enjoyed the company. However, two days before the trip, Aunty Peggy was rushed into hospital with gallstones and was to be kept in until she could be operated on. Mum was

When I was about 17 years old, went on holiday in France. Mum, dad and my sister Chloe were staying at a gite in Normandy, about 500m from a D-day landing beach. Chloe and dad were off exploring yet again, mum was getting lunch ready, and I was bored out of my mind. A dream family holiday on the landing beaches is great if you are into the history of World War 2, which I was not. I wandered through a couple of fields on a footpath which led to a small farm yard surrounded by apple trees with small bright