I took my family plus my eldest son's girlfriend on holiday to Brittany in France last summer.
It was a six hour drive to Dinard, but we made light work of it and had a laugh in the VW we hired.
We headed straight to the beach the next morning. These are photos from that morning in France - before it all went to crap.
I was sitting in my deckchair, toes dug into the warm sand, watching my two youngest sons digging a sandcastle, when I saw my eldest son's girlfriend running towards me up the beach with my mobile phone.
Turns out my mum had fallen head first down her steep stairs and sustained such a massive head injury she was being sent to Intensive Care at King's College Hospital, London.
People, ie, me, react in funny ways to this sort of news. I wasn't immediately upset, but I was a bit cross - how dare she do this on my first day of my holiday?? We'd driven SIX HOURS to get there. Until I really realised she might actually die. First reality check: my Dad saying in his sweet scottish accent 'She won't wake up, Al'. Second reality check: my husband Marc telling me 'Nurses say you need to get there fast, or you might not see her again'.
I couldn't get a flight until the next afternoon, so we took the family to St. Malo. It's beautiful, but I'm not sure I'll ever go there again. I wasn't in a rational state, although I thought I was.. Sometimes a photo speaks louder than words. This was taken that day by my son's girlfriend, Georgia. Sneaky pixie took it when I wasn't looking.
I'm not sure how I managed to get through that night before I flew back. Local wine helped. I'm not ashamed to say I prayed, alot. Somehow, even though she wasn't conscious, I knew she was alive and that kept me going.
It get's worse. I dyed my hair. In my defense - I thought she would die!
And she didn't though, but my hair has died a thousand deaths since.