As a parent, let me tell you the truth about my 'happy' half term holiday - and the accompanying pictures

Last week was the half term holidays. All over Britain, smug families are now posting sick-inducing pictures of their Boden-clad children glamping in yurts, cavorting on a Norfolk beach and having fun dammit despite the Force 10 gales because they are HAPPY.

But it's all a lie.

I am a television producer of mainly pointless TV, a deeply inadequate mother of two (feral) children, wife to husband#1, owner of one incontinent dog , one depressed cat and the deeply unsuccessful employer of 13 consecutive au pairs. Welcome to my world.

This week I became a Facebook Fraud. Away for the half term break with the two (feral) children plus another two of the (feral) children’s friends and husband#1, I have been smugly posting pictures like this:

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But here is the dark truth about how I actually spent my idyllic half term:

- I exchanged one dishwasher for another more s**t one

- The incontinent dog kept pissing all over the sea grass rugs

- The miserable holidaymakers in the beach hut nextdoor complained four times about us and informed us that their dying grandmother's last wish was for a 'child- free' weekend

- I provided a Jeremy-Kyle style diet for the children which means they are eschewing my usual alternative of soy-glazed mackerel and pomegranate-jeweled couscous and spent their week running round the sand dunes crazed and pre-diabetic

- There was an unspoken quid pro quo assumption from husband#1 that I would be having sex with him in exchange for the provision of this alleged mini-break

- The bath was located, boutique hotel style, in the middle of the bedroom. Which meant I had to lie in the bath at a flattering angle and arrange a gently billowing knoll of bubbles over my stomach while husband#1 talked at me about his hopes and dreams

- This:

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After this relaxing, hugely Instagrammable week, I returned home to find emergency au pair #13-and-a-half has aggressively increased the fashion stakes in my house. Statement leather pinafores, cow print pedal pushers and nautical stripes have bobbed and eddied daily through my door. #13-and-a-half does not appear to eat, thus her unique ability to look good in a white legging.

Back in the world of work, I have been psychologically tested to find out why I'm not better at my job. The test gets marked and then I meet a 'business psychologist' to talk through the findings. The test asked me seemingly innocuous questions like ' What is your favourite hobby and why?' and ' What's your favourite thing about work?’, but I know they are all cunningly designed to oust me as a sociopath. I am terrified of my diagnosis meeting. How to distract the expert from my array of anti-social personality disorders? Could a nautical stripe redirect the prevailing wind? Could a white legging persuade him to concentrate on my obvious obesity issues instead?

Boss #1 also informed me this week of two upcoming events to mark in my diary. The first is a day out with an ex-gang leader on the streets of South London, revisiting his former haunts and meeting his old partners in crime. The second is a holistic retreat to his house in Brighton where the team and I will combine mindfulness with mackerel fishing.

Both these events present a wardrobe challenge. While the nautical stripe fits well with the latter, it gives too frivolous a message to the gangs of South London. I shall get me a hoodie and a blade. The hoodie will protect my contouring from any sea-spray and a blade always comes in handy to fillet a mackerel. By that time, I might have even recovered from half term.

Read Claudia's blog here