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WHAT do you do when you want a foreign holiday but the thought of taking your 13-month-old son on a plane is pretty much your worst nightmare? You remember Plymouth is home to Brittany Ferries, and you hop over to

    “You must be Thomas? Do you want to go and find our friendly crocodile?” were hardly the first words I expected to hear as I walked into a luxury hotel. But this welcome from the friendly, vibrant receptionist

IF you’re looking for a week away jam packed with family-friendly activities, you really don’t need to go very far. Right here in our beautiful region there is so much to do with young children, we decided to head over

ANY holiday to Cornwall must involve pasties, as far as I’m concerned. Those are the rules. So to find five warm homemade ones on the table of our holiday house on arrival was definitely a good start to our week

D-DAY was edging closer and closer, and I soon reached the 36 week ‘they should be fine’ milestone I was praying I’d get to. I was not-so-secretly quite chuffed with my body. Turns out, my boys (I’m fine with that

“Emotional rollercoaster” is such a crap phrase, isn’t it? But it does kind of sum up what you go through during pregnancy. Flying off the handle at your husband one minute, crying at Strictly the next, then being overwhelmed with

I don’t care what people say. Being pregnant is shit. And guess what? Being pregnant with twins is extra shit. Doubly shit in fact. Who’d have thought it, eh? So I’d already had the hideous morning sickness, way worse than

Twins? Twins? TWINS? No matter how many times I said the word, it just wouldn’t sink in. And the more I thought about it, the more panicky and sick I felt. This wasn’t the plan. This was DEFINITELY NOT the