OK, I’m going to say it. It’s too early for Christmas! Thought I’d treat myself to a mocha on my way back from my Dad’s. I regretted it when I was stuck in traffic and needed to pee. Luckily, I’ve done a lot of riding and Pilates, so have a strong pelvic floor.

By the time I neared Stanstead, the full bladder has shifted from ‘mild discomfort’ to ‘OMG I’m going to wet myself’. While queuing for the services exit, I had to laugh as a lorry pulled alongside with two portaloos on the back. Someone up there has a sense of humour. Made me think of my Mum. As a child, she’d rarely let me pass a toilet. Just in case…

By now I was up to ‘it really hurts! So drove into the services with the speed of a Formula 1 driver heading to the pits!! Lewis Hamilton would have been proud! And trotted to the loo.

Talk about relief. But then I did relieve myself. Made me wonder why we say that. And it’s still too early for a Christmas cup…