We are home. I spent much of our last day skulking in the woods while my estranged aunt visited the children. As usual, she was two hours late, so by the time she finally arrived my planned “walk” had turned into a mini-marathon, it was pitch-dark outside and I was wearing sunglasses. Now here’s a dilemma; in that situation do you ditch the glasses and rely on myopic vision to get you home or do you keep the glasses and wait for the moon to come out?

As I walked around the woods I was reminded of one of the highlights of our trip, a walk Bea and I had together. We were wandering along hand-in-hand chatting when we suddenly heard a gun-shot.

“I hope he doesn’t shoot us,” said Bea. “I’ll tell him, dear Mr shooter, we are only here visiting my grandmother who lives over there, please don’t kill us. After all I’m only a little girl, I’m only seven years old, and my mummy, well she’s not THAT old.”

As you can imagine, we were spared.

After a week away with my children I have learnt some new things about them. One is that they’re better when they’re not all together. Alone they are actually very easy. A joy in fact.

Olivia didn’t cease to amaze me during the week with how clever she is, as well as clumsy. It seems her brain works faster than her body. Bea is quite the most talented linguist I have ever met. She picked up Italian like other people pick up flu. Leo is a sweet, caring little boy, something you don’t see much of when he is trying to keep up, or fighting, with his sisters.

Travelling with them was a bit like travelling with film stars. Everywhere they went they were noticed and people were totally intrigued by them. Piera, the estranged aunt, was so enamoured she has invited them to stay with her in Italy. One at a time. She’s obviously not as daft as I thought……

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008