After getting dusty and dirty in the attic last week I am doing proper grown-up things, including going away for a couple of nights by myself.

Yes I know, two nights in a hotel in Poole while doing a Press officer's training course for the Lifeboat isn't everybody's idea of a wild time but then everybody doesn't live my life where such small events loom very large and exciting.

I must say the thought of a couple of nights without child, dog or responsibilities, not to mention three days away from work plus staying in a proper hotel, seems highly desirable.

It would of course be much more desirable if child's Dad could come too but sadly he has to work and look after daughter.

Daughter is very affronted that I can even think of going anywhere without her and wants to tag along.

I have explained she has to go to school although the real reason is, of course, because I don't want her to. I want to go away all on my own like proper grown-ups do.

She has resigned herself to three days survival with her Dad.

They will of course live on cheese and tomato pizzas (her and the dog) and triple-layer bacon sandwiches (him) supplemented by Mr Kipling's cakes (all of them) while the food monitor (me) is away.

As I have been on a diet recently the fridge is stocked with low-fat goodies but I doubt they will get touched.

Daughter wants to know what the hotel will be like.

She has stayed in them often as her grandparents take her away each year and I know they only stay in good hotels, with proper white fluffy towels, unlike us who usually plump for a B&B.

I don't care what the hotel or the towels are like as long as I can do things I am not usually allowed to do at home, such as have a long uninterrupted bath and be able to keep the light on in case I wake up and need to read.

I am also looking forward to having the mirror all to myself in the morning instead of sharing with daughter who thinks that just because she's younger and prettier she has the right to push in.

'You never know, I may just enjoy myself so much I won't come back," I said to daughter.

"Yes, you will." she said. "You'll miss us."

Obviously, she knows me too well.