Pool on camp still closed, so yet another sunny day, and yet another million pounds spent going to hotel pool (the wholemeal ladies had gone, and the pool attendant was back). Son tried very hard to swim, but didn't quite manage it, despite me rather rashly promising an aquarium in his bedroom if he did. Twin 2 wobbled about courting head injuries and giving me a cardiac as usual. 

Later, after lunch and two DVDs, I decided it was time I put the effort into being a good mum and turned the telly off, promising a game of hide-and-seek. I hid, they sought. I took my book with me (The Crow Road by Iain Banks; it's v.good so far) and managed to get through around seventy pages over the course of the afternoon - I'm not that good at hiding (I spent most of the time either behind the sofa or in my own bed), but they are truly pants at seeking. Son eventually gave up and went off to play frisbee over the fence with the kids next door. 

Meena the cook is slightly less lugubrious today, as I have promised her a bread-maker. She even made a joke about me getting fat on her choc chip cookies, which made Hubby laugh rather too heartily for my liking (also this comment is a bit rich coming from her, as she is pretty much a cottage loaf with Tibetan colouring - not sure how she puts any weight on, as she seems to be permanently on a religious fast, which I don't think is a particularly good sign, having a cook who doesn't actually eat). However, she did roll her eyes when I asked her to make us a cup of tea after supper, but reluctantly agreed to do it because it was what 'Saheb' (aka Hubby) wanted. She's taken a shine to 'Saheb' as he's constantly telling her how lovely her cooking is and how rubbish mine is, and laughing at her oh-so-amusing quips about the size of my thighs. The traitor. Nothing is too much trouble for Saheb, but if Memsaheb (me*) wants a cup of tea, or her cook to make bread it's all suddenly a little bit difficult. Anyway, I've just ordered a massive amount of bread-mix, and someone is lending me their bread-maker (ironically it's the family Meena's husband cooks for - he refuses to use a bread maker as he prides himself in making his own bread, pasta, and choux pastry. Oh yes. Shame he can't give his wife a few cooking tips...), so hopefully there'll be a bit less of the eye-rolling pathos soon.

*Yes, I am a memsaheb. Yes it is a colonial hangover. No, I don't feel especially guilty about it, but not sure whether I should?