We're all going on a....

So, here we are. Oh my gosh, yes, here we are.

Got our flights on time. Worth mentioning as there have been countless incidents of missing flights, thanks to OH's inability to keep time. This time I had everything ready the night before, the only thing outstanding being getting OH's stuff in the suitcase and shutting it. However, this task had yet to be completed at lunch time the next day, seven minutes in fact before the taxi taking us to the airport was due to arrive. He was held up collecting Babe from nursery, getting some cash out and parking our car outside someone else's house. ??? During aforementioned seven minutes I fed New Babe, heart in my mouth, and managed to dress Babe with one hand at the same, bribing him with promises of the treats I'd bought him for the flight. OH changed, wrapped his Wash and Go in an insane quantity of clingfilm and got his stuff in the case and padlocked it.

Our first disagreement was over whether to take the buggy for Babe or not. We had agreed to, as well as the pram for New Babe, but OH changed his mind at the last minute and I just couldn't be bothered to argue. Babe did of course, crash in the taxi to the airport, which meant OH had to carry him around over his shoulder when we got there, went through passport control etc. This meant I ended up walking around loaded like a packhorse.

Our second disagreement was over how we would handle the potty situation on the plane. My feeling was that to do a wee in the potty on the floor by our seats was a lesser risk than trying to get Babe to the loo in time and failing, but that poos should be done in the loo or in pants if that's what it came to, rather than subject fellow passengers to the smell if he used the potty. OH disagreed.

After walking down the aisle and getting stuck behind the drinks trolley during turbulence with a potty full of wee in my hand, I was convinced I was right, and I don't think anyone with an aisle seat would have disagreed with me. But an hour later I was breastfeeding New Babe when Babe, who OH was allowing to roll all over the aisle, picked up his potty, pulled down his pants and shorts in full view of everyone behind us (we were seated near the wings, bad choice on my part as Babe couldn't see much outside the windows, in case you're interested) and announced he was going to poo. I hissed at OH to move him but he wouldn't, worried I suppose (let's be generous, I'm trying to see his point of view over stuff) that it was too late. Then one of the air hosts came up and said, 'You can't let him use the potty in the cabin, guys, it's disgusting.' I was mortified, but OH indignant, and didn't do anything. So I yanked New Babe off the breast, grabbed Babe and the potty, and made it to the loo in time for him to do... nothing. Four more wolf calls later and still nothing. Babe had got our attention good and proper, and there wasn't a whole lot we could do about it.

Not entirely funny, eh? You're right. I hated most of that flight. Babe was in fact very good, but no two year old that I know is going to sit quietly for three hours, and whereas my policy is to distract him with Thomas magazines and snacks, OH thinks the British are uptight and is more than happy for Babe to make his presence felt, in both the physical and vocal sense.

Moving on... I was very relieved to arrive in Corfu. We were met by two of OH's now grown-up nephews, who he insisted on whistling and shouting to through the automatic doors separating baggage collection from the World Outside, waving his arms and making the Victory sign like a Japanese tourist. The eldest had bought a clapped out sports car, eighties style with huge reclining seats and dice hanging off the mirror, but when he opened the side door I noticed holes where the speakers had been ripped out; the car didn't go more than 40mph, and the smell of petrol on the ride home nearly asphixiated (no time to spell check that one) us all.

A fish the length of my thigh bone had been caught and grilled for us, and was ready on the table. Babe immediately fell in love with all his cousins and allowed them to feed him copious amounts. It's as though he tunes in to anyone under 25, and out to anyone over 25, whether they speak his language or not. Which is a real shame for grannies, grandads, aunties and uncles etc. But lovely for cousins.

That night was sweltering. I didn't sleep at all - and I mean that. New Babe only woke once, exhausted by the journey and heat I suppose, and his nappy, which is usually soaked in the morning was virtually dry. That's how hot it was. (28 degrees all night apparently.) I found this stressful, and was quite glad when the cocks outside started crowing at 4am. We had to rise at 5am English time, 7am Greek time, to get to the port. I was ready, with Babe dressed and New Babe fed and dressed an hour early. It wasn't until we got outside that I realised there wasn't a plan in place for getting a taxi.

OH walked up the road to a kiosk and was given a number. He asked his brother in law the address, but for some reason he didn't seem to know the name of the road. He snatched the phone impatiently, and his impossibly mad, rude, incoherent conversation with the taxi driver on the other end must have gone something like this:

[Shouting] 'Taxi! Here! Now! For Albania we going'
'Where is "here"?'
[Still shouting] 'Here! Now! Albania to. By supermarket the!'
Which supermarket?
[Going mental] 'Near port! Now! Bar Cappuchino!'
You mean by the rear of the Marinopoulos supermarket nearest to the port?
[Shrieking] Yes! Yes! Bravo! Bravo! You are here now!

I was about to be sick with stress - I feel sick writing this and remembering it, but that's because this Internet cafe is full of smoke and I've got thirty minutes of kid free time to write, as I've just stormed out of the house dramatically in a strop. I'm not going to have time to edit, so forgive me the lapses in spelling and punctuation - and was utterly convinced that the taxi driver would have sworn at his phone and not turned up, but amazingly he did, and we got to the port with about ten minutes to spare. True to form...

The boat ride was beautiful. Breezy, cool - I'd have traded my Macbook (given that it has a few faults) to stay on it for a day, alone with New Babe, drowsy and drifting in and out of sleep. Even I was moved by the raising of the pint-sized nylon Albanian standard as we left Greek waters. But we had to get out and face the family.

I now have to summarise the last two days in about five minutes but it's not hard. It's bloody hot. So hot that you sweat all night. We have all been ill with bad colds and OH and Babe have both had temperatures and dicky tummies. It is too hot to venture outside between eleven and four. OH's dad is ill (again - always ill) and OH ended up spending all yesterday morning in hospital with him, and we were all woken up to him groaning at 5am this morning. I am feeling somewhat better, but Babe is still complaining of pains in his head, ears and tummy. There is no hope of me getting to sleep until the rest of the family do - which is late, as they are used to rising late - although I am managing to get Babe and New Babe down at the usual time, despite the light and noise, by getting onto the bed as well. Babe is being predictably clingy and my plan for sleeping in the hotel opposite is delayed and in fear of being aborted.

BUT we did get out for an hour and a half at about half nine this morning and spent a reasonable time on the beach, so there is hope for us yet. Will keep you posted!

PS Babe was knocked over by a motorbike on the way back from the beach. I was pushing the pram and screamed like a woman jumping for her life as I saw Auntie Eleni grab at Babe, miss and he ran straight across its path. Amazingly, mercifully, he was not hurt but my sleep deprived nerves are in utter tatters. The jerk riding his bike down the pedestrian walkway saw us ahead, and didn't stop or slow down, don't think he even saw us. I gave him an earful the entire town must have heard and then walked home sobbing in shock. Where was OH? Talking to a friend and missed it and presumes I am being difficult and over-reacting as usual. I think I am, possibly, going deranged. Could write so much more but will have to wait until tomorrow.......