1. walking. Walking is a great way of seeing Paris. We got a book of 50 walks which come as little separate cards, so you can just take one with you. Each walk has suggestions of handy cafes/ice cream shops to stop in and each walk is about 1-2 miles long, so very easy.

2. Apart from the walk in the Bois de Boulogne, which was 7 miles long, by the time we found it. It was really long and we encountered too many members of the French sex trade for my peace of mind. So, to be avoided.

3. Much better to go to the Tuileries. You can walk, ride ponies, jump on trampolines and see the Monet Waterlilies which is NOT a giant cultural undertaking, although it is a masterpiece.

4. Go and see a film on the Champs Elysees. Go for VO, which is Version Originale, in other words English (or Spanish, or whatever). The children might welcome just a bit of spoken English but you are in the heart of the French capital. Avoid all cafes on the Champs Elysees, but Pomme au Pain is a good and cheap sandwich bar/creperie just beside the Gaumont cinema.

5. Don’t forget to get Tarif Reduit carnets on the Metro. A carnet is a book of 1o tickets. If you ask for children’s tickets you’ll get cheaper ones. Lots of people don’t know this bargain exists.

6. Go clothes shopping at MonoPrix. For Petit Bateau underwear, great coats, shoes, trousers etc. It’s like a chicer version of M&S. Branches all over Paris and a giant one on the Champs Elysees

7. Go on the RER. Double decker trains. Who knew they would be the children’s FAVOURITE transport? There’s a RER station just by the Musee d’Orsay so you can hop on after a bit of culture.

8. A bit of culture. But only a bit. See 10 pictures at the D’Orsay, and stand behind this great clock,  or 5 at the Louvre. Then leave. They are all masterpieces so quality is no issue. Putting your kids off art for life is.

9. Have a contest spotting the symbol of Paris on bridges, churches, bus stops (its a boat in stormy weather, often bearing the insignia – Tossed about but never Overwhelmed)

10. Walk up the Eiffel Tower. You’ll avoid the lift queues, its much cheaper, much more fun. The lift back down is free!

In this film, the Giants are given to biting people’s heads off, swinging around giant clubs and leaping off cliffs. While, for no obvious reason in the plot, all sounding like Billy Connolly….

Naturally their human foes are weedy, devious  (in some cases) and English. Alright, Ewan McGregor is in there, but ever since he was in Star Wars, he’s become a sort of International Product.

Of course the children found this entirely acceptable. At least, they made no comment on it.

While the English really don’t seem to know what they are,  and veer between playing posh, smarmy and, er, Cockney, its clear that the Scots really have sorted out their image issues. They are big, tough, virile, caber tossing men. In children’s films, they are giants. Alright?

I know the Zoo has its critics. I’m a fan of it, however and know it so well that I’m almost on first name terms with the hissing cockroaches. And I think the problem is that a) its in central London and b) is packed with listed buildings. Furthermore c) the vogue for big animals in zoos has waned somewhat, now that David Attenborough is on our screens on an almost daily basis and the likes of the Deadly 60 are staples.

All of which means that London Zoo has had to reinvent itself somewhat. Tiger Territory has become very spacious indeed for the inhabitants, who have sort of taken back seat to what – for the human viewers-  now acts as a sort of animal information hub. The gorillas have pretty much the same set up.

I think this is appropriate – if you are going to have a zoo in a city (discuss) then you should have zoo-type animals in it. But if they are complex creatures (rather than, say,ladybirds) let them be as undisturbed as possible while the visitors jump on the statues and listen to the recorded roaring. Which is exactly what happened.

In an extraordinarily patronising comment, the Prime Minister’s adviser on these things joined with Furedi suggesting we were ‘babying’ our children to their detriment. And it was all the fault of those terrible things ‘Career Women’, who had given up work and were now siphoning their ‘ambition’ (ooh) via their children who they were forcing to succeed, sending to tutors every living hour of the day, etc etc.

When not hovering over them, we also neglect them (how can this be?), by letting them spend hours on electronic devices where they are downloading porn and/or violence.

Can’t win.

Top  ten Tips, well eight actually:

Stay in the jeep, so you don’t get eaten by a tiger. Or tigers.Or a hyena.

Remember that you can always order pizza, or jam and toast, if you don’t like curry.

It’s a good idea to bring your cricket bat because the Indians like cricket and they will play with you. They will have the stumps.

There are lots of presents and nice things to buy but you have to bargin.

Don’t worry about getting lost because most people speak English, and your guide will look after you.

Your guide will be friendly.

Remember to be patient at the Taj Mahal because your parents will want to take lots of photos.

Don’t be surprised if you see a cow in a station.

Don;t be scared of heights becose you will probley ride on an elephant. But Indian elephants are frendley. African elephants are agresiv.

Their observations,  after this enterprising morning,  were interesting.  “I enjoyed people who stopped and took leaflets,” said my 10 year old daughter, who handed out booklets advertising Family Tours “But if they didn’t stop, it was embarrassing. And there really weren’t many families. It was mostly Chinese adults.” “I didn’t like being ignored by some people,” said my 13-year old son. “Some people were not very polite. One man told me to ‘stop wasting his time’. And 90 minutes is too long to be standing around the entrance.” Rudeness? Fatigue? Frustration? Ah, the realities of everyday toil.

Where, though? Bearing in mind that by Christmas you will have already endured about twelve mince pie and mulled wine evenings, a few school carol concerts and quite a lot of Christmas puddings in office dos, then maybe getting away from a sunlounger and the horrendous possibility of wearing a bikini, however distant,  might be the best option. So perhaps go for a family activity holiday. At least you can pretend you are doing something for cholesterol’s sake.

Last year, we went camping in the Sahara. We arrived by camel. Our site involved six small bell tents, for sleeping. A larger tent, our dining room. A very small tent some way off was the latrine. That was it.  After a feast of soup and spaghetti, the children jumped and slid down the golden dunes of the Sahara.  The Sahara is very big, but it’s not silent. Amazingly, there was the sound of birdsong.

Night comes quickly, the shadows racing up the dunes. Tens of thousands of stars come out  - the entire Milky Way. Someone starts singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”. It’s cheesy, but why not? There are billions of them hanging above us overhead.

At dawn, my husband and I crept out of our tiny tent. Christmas morning. A rocky outcrop on the horizon is  black; the sun,  an iridescent line. Birds are singing everywhere. Then the sun bursts up over the desert; the world is gold  and the sky is azure once more. Now is that not a TEENSY bit better than the Boxing Day scrum on Oxford Street?

This is not to say that everything I have been making recently has been all Christmassy. I’ll leave it to November until I get into major Christmas mode. Look at this. Bat bread.

Bat Toast

I made it this morning. Meanwhile its all ALSO about being inspired by the GBBO and making birthday cakes,

like this one decorated with, er, inedible and thus potentially very dangerous buttons (but they look SO lovely)

Honey's birthday cake with dangerous decorations

What, after the Olympics? After all that fantastic sporting achievement? How can I possibly get coverage?

Well, why don’t you follow our A LIST CELEBRITY RELAY TEAM, says the man from Virgin. We’ve got Richard Branson running, Kate Silverton swimming and DAVID HASSELHOFF cycling.

The Hoff? Say no more. I’m going to swim, run, cycle my heart out. Who can resist a chance to meet the Hoff! Not only me, but the Junior Millards are very very excited about this Hoffertunity too. Amazingly this star of an Eighties show is very big in with the under12s.

“Were you in X Factor, or Britain’s Got Talent?” asked one of my children, slightly tactlessly. Doesn’t matter. They know him and they love him. Furthermore, the Hoff is one of those celebs (a bit like Bozza) who knows people just smile when they see him. Fortunately (like Bozza) he loves the whole joke.

My older daughter was at home (in bed, lying in) when this photo was taken. She was so FED UP to have missed it. Seeing her mother compete? Er, no. She was gutted to miss the chance to be alongside the Baywatch icon.