Anxious, exhausted, elated: I felt all the emotions during my first time as a Single Parent on Holiday

How was your Easter break? Mine was a bundle of acute stress and magnificent moments — and my heart rate is only just stabilising. Why? Because I have spent the past week being a Single Parent on Holiday for the first time.

I have never been on holiday with my daughter, who is two-and-a-half, without my mum coming along for the ride because I’ve never been brave enough to travel as a solo parent. From turbulence to trying to survive in a foreign setting on little sleep and even less patience — there are so many reasons not to go away.

A solo parent household with a full-time working single mum is a horrifyingly well-oiled machine, and the thought of disrupting that routine for a few hours in the sun has never felt worth it — indulgent even. But I couldn’t ignore the desire to see the world with my daughter any longer.

So here we are en route to Cyprus (baby steps), my toddler atop a tiger-striped Trunki begging me to pull her faster through the North Terminal while I try and swan about with a new Dior bag in the crook of my elbow. Top tip? Don’t attempt to be a chic Single Parent on Holiday. Invest in an outward bound-style backpack and be done with it.

At home I run a strict no-devices household, but akin to my mile-high club days (pre-child) I decided that what happens in the air doesn’t really count, so the iPad came aboard, fully loaded with Frozen.

Once we arrived at our resort we were an intriguing sight, fellow guests staring across the buffet to suss out who this modern family were at dinner — full disclosure: two of my good friends were holidaying at the same resort, which in turn induced acute envy watching them downing margaritas poolside.

In an attempt to join them one afternoon I enrolled my daughter into the kids’ club for a trial session. I’m sure the staff thought I was certifiable as I “just popped back” to see how she was getting on 86 times. She was fine, of course, but the burden of being responsible for my child’s safety in an unfamiliar setting was a heavy weight all week.

But as the days passed and the weather warmed we found our groove as best holiday buddies. We picked up a new routine and I began to think about the real dilemma at play. This week wasn’t about me relaxing, it was never going to be, and spending time with my incredible daughter was of course better than being chuffed about my tan lines.

It was while watching a woman poolside who had three kids, a hands-on husband and two nannies, that it hit me. The nannies applied the sunscreen while she did deals with Deutsche Bank from her sun lounger, never once joining her brood in the pool. More power to her. I didn’t want to swim in lukewarm kids’ pee either, but for me it was not relaxing to observe her on so many levels, perhaps even reminding myself of the times I had let work win.

Even though I was stressed out for some of our virgin voyage, I was gloriously happy for most of it, so much so that I’ve just booked our next adventure. No need to wish me luck, I genuinely can’t wait.

Is a tipple on the train really so bad?

When I rocked up to my friend Caroline’s fortysomething birthday I realised the world and my friends had changed. I had made the journey to her party on the Overground, getting into the mood with a Marks & Spencer G&T or two on the way.

I actually bought three and drank two. Upon arrival I grappled around to find her prezzie in my bag and the remaining can fell out, along with the scented candle. There was, I kid you not, an audible gasp from my friends — and it wasn’t because I’d splashed out on a Diptyque.

“Drinking in public? Are things that bad?” Caroline laughed when she saw the can rolling around her parquet floor as I chased after it. She was joking, but all of a sudden I felt the shame that Diane Abbott must be feeling after being spotted drinking a canned mojito on the Overground — which has been banned since 2008.

Now don’t get me wrong — if Labour wins the next election then I am not going to be in charge of our nation’s home security. And I didn’t accidentally break a by-law, as she appears to have done, I knew what I was doing.

But surely there’s still room for a sly snifter on the way to a night out?

*As Pete Doherty says: “You see the difference between writing a poem in prison and writing a poem in a cottage by a lake,” in short, heartbreak, sadness — feelings of despair all tend to result in bloody good music.

Adele is the bona fide master of the break-up ballad and the news of her recent marriage split, while sad of course, likely means that her next album, rumoured to be released later this year, is going be another misty-eyed triumph.