9am. I am in the car, en route to hospital, where I am to have a small lesion removed from my lower calf, writes Aida Austin. 

Lunchtime, and I’m hand-beading upstairs at my worktable in Paul’s shop. My mind is as calm as a goldfish in a bowl; hand-beading is good that way, being so simple and repetitive.

My children had all sorts of lofty ambitions when they were little: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, doggy rescuer, famous gymnast, Georgie Best. “Vegetable Eater” never got a mention. 

‘I’ve seen car explosions. I saw poor Apollonia go up in The Godfather," writes Aida Austin. 

9 am. My three sisters and I are in a taxi, heading towards Pestana Palace Hotel where my brother is staying; he’s invited us to join him for breakfast on the terrace and spend the morning in the hotel grounds before we fly home from Lisbon this afternoon.

It’s 8.30pm — and my three sisters and I are sitting at a restaurant table in Bairro Alto, Lisbon’s old bohemian district. 

5 pm.

I’M IN Stansted airport with two of my sisters, heading for Lisbon, where our youngest sister is waiting for us.

My three sisters and I have just arrived at our Airbnb apartment in Lisbon and bagsied bedrooms, with disappointing results; I got the box room and have taken my disappointment off to the toilet.

MONDAY. I’ve been having a secret love affair for two weeks but have managed to keep it on the down-low. Heaven forbid my husband should ever discover that I’ve fallen in love. With an old bike.