Greetings from 'up North' where daughter, dog and I are still staying at the parents' house.

Sam, the dog, behaved himself impeccably during the train trip up here, apart from doing an unending piddle in the middle of the concourse at Victoria Station.

At least he didn't do it on the train. He slept all the way from London to Liverpool so all my worries about him misbehaving really badly were unfounded.

My mother, who usually moans that the house is too quiet, has been inundated with grandchildren of all ages over the week, accompanied by their respective parents and also their respective dogs.

This has meant my father has had to sit in his chair in the living room trying to watch Panorama while four children play Twister in front of him and three dogs try to join in.

My mother, brothers, sisters and I decided to take the easy option of remaining at the dining room table so we could continue to consume large quantities of red wine in comparative peace.

We have spent our mornings walking the dogs. In the afternoons the children have played together remarkably well.

For my mother it must be just like when we were all children - but without the arguing that went on then, as this generation seems to get on with each other much better than my siblings and I did.

It is very quiet up here though, and although I love it for a break, after a week or so I start hankering for the bright lights of Brighton.

Daughter, who hasn't turned the TV on once since we got here, will start needing her regular fix of Sky TV and I guess the dog will miss having cats to chase.

All good things come to an end.