I never dreamt I would nearly fall at Prime Minister David Cameron’s feet! I had a close shave with his ministerial toes as I ran after him and his family at an Oxfordshire festival armed with a BBC microphone. 

I put up a helluva chase as he strode through the crowds with his daughter on his shoulders, flanked by SamCam in towering heels and two security flunkies.

But despite all these obstacles/distractions, I stopped my rather important prey in his tracks and gasping for air, managed to spark some polite two-way conversation before he headed off in the direction of the bouncy castle. Well ... everyone needs a little extra curricular.

After all, this particular festival of camping, food and music attracts the Chipping Norton set like a celebrity to silicone. And it didn’t disappoint.

We left the comfortable womb of Oxfordshire for a weekend away recently and headed for the Dorset Seafood Festival in Weymouth.

It’s spectacular what you need to bring for one night away when you have a small baby, the volume of stuff comparable to a family of four on a six-month sabbatical.

Anyway, how can you travel 140 miles and not even get to chew on a cockle? Having promenaded the entire length and breadth of the seafood festival noting the offerings of restaurateurs, one after the other, in long lines of gazebos, we managed to actually miss out on sampling any fruits of the sea.

Why? Because all the fresh cockles, mussels, prawns and whelks had been snapped up. Not a single fishy on a little dishy.

Betsy has started sampling the delights of mashed up, pureed food. Thus mealtimes are, as you can imagine, like a feeding frenzy at the Cotswold Wildlife Park.

I’ll tell you this – the ability to make farmyard animal noises is such a bonus when you’re a parent; it makes the pureed butternut squash disappear without trace but I’m sure our neighbours will alert DEFRA if we continue to be so authentic...

I had the first long evening away from the family last Sunday to tread the boards at the New Theatre for Strictly Oxford 2013.

Leaving ‘im indoors at the helm was a significant benchmark in the family dynamic. I was dropped off at the theatre stage door so he had peace of mind that I was actually there and couldn’t do a runner back home into my usual role as protective mother of two.

And what a fabulous evening of sequins, fun and fancy footwork it turned out to be. What nobody knew however was that my “Bet Lynch meets Katie Price” pink animal print trousers were being pulled together by a trusty safety pin.

Yes, Got to love that mummy tummy, so perhaps I should chase after the prime minister more often.