Last Saturday, we were going on a break at a countryside spa. I would take care of Phoebe so my wife, Catie, could be pampered. That was the plan, but typically an attempt to eradicate stress had the opposite effect.
We were both knackered: I’d driven from Bristol early that morning while Catie had been kept up late by a party next door. We were only half ready to leave by 4pm. Hoping to make the most of dwindling time, we cajoled each other, sniped a little and tried to rush things. Tensions were rising.
Once we got on the road, the traffic was terrible. We live near Westfield shopping centre in up-and-coming Shepherd’s Bush. And I am… Read the full story