If you decide to go on a self-catering holiday with Mr Fix-It and four children then you have to be organized.
You have to remember everything.
I remembered: four different types of toothpaste, three sorts of mouthwash, toothpicks, five electric toothbrushes, and one small person’s use-up-some-of-your-own-excess-energy hand-held brush. I even remembered a cup for rinsing.
But I forgot the toothbrush charger.
Well, that’s not strictly true.
I remembered a toothbrush charger. But the wrong toothbrush charger. Meaning only one of the five electric toothbrushes had the possibility of being charged, while we were away.
I had already thought to charge each individual toothbrush fully before setting off.
So that they should last the week.
Except on the drive to Geneva, for a one night stopover with friends, one of the toothbrushes got accidentally pressed.
We listened to it attempting to clean the other brushes.
We listened to the life slowly trickle and hiccup out of it.
Of course, it was the mother brush.
While planning our holiday I had tried to think of every possible eventuality in terms of packing.
Indeed, had we been stopped and searched at either the Swiss or the French border the customs officers would have had a field day discovering the likes of: sun block and woolly hats, oven gloves, candles, a torch, bin liners, anti-histamine, washing powder, a corkscrew, nail polish remover, 17 pens, sellotape, a happy birthday sign, salt, a sewing kit (you know those travel ones you ‘take with you’ after an overnight stay in a hotel), a full every-type-of-conceivable-possible-emergency first aid kit. And naturally, the obligatory cuddly toy.
I could only have watched from the sidelines as they chortled at my analness.
However, on my return journey I could have politely informed them that we had in fact used all of the afore-mentioned items.
What with our late night walk. A birthday. Pizza. A lot of washing. Several medical and accidental incidents.
And a few *hic* bottles of wine.
Yet, despite my careful thought and attention to detail, I could not have imagined (not in a zillion years) that my husband, would, during his stay, have been deflated by the fact that we had no pliers in our luggage.
We broke the washing machine.
And poor Mr Fix-It had to fix it with a mere screwdriver that I’d last minutely rammed in my rucksack.