We should, by now, be in Marsa Alam in Egypt, on the Red Sea. We got out of bed in the middle of the night to drive to Gatwick airport to catch our flight at 8.10am. So why are we sitting in Southrepps in front of a blazing fire, preparing to watch an episode of Suits on Netflix? Because I drive an old Porsche, that’s why. So, when I have a blowout halfway through the journey, I cursed a little (as you do) but got on with the job of changing the shredded tyre with the wonderful space-saver spare wheel. It was only then that I realised that the space-saver needed to be inflated, and there was no pump in the car. I assume that there was once a pump, but at some point in my car’s long history it has been removed! We then had to wait for three hours at the side of the road for a Green Flag patrol to come to our assistance, by which time we were too late to catch our flight… Long story short, we drove back home, rang our insurance company to claim for our lost holiday, booked the car in for new tyres, and re-booked our holiday for next week. Now I’m extremely tired and I’m off to bed!