Samantha Smythe has to look after the children, run the house, cook dinner, clear up, be good to her husband, entertain friends, and still find the energy to perform her conjugal rights. She's beginning to feel invisible, undervalued and fed up. When the chance to stay in a gorgeous chocolate box of a holiday cottage beckons she grasps it with both hands and with a car packed full of luggage and fractious children she heads for the Devon coast. But with no Sky TV and swimming pool and intermittently soggy weather can the calm and happy holiday she's been hoping for be achieved? Samantha is sure that their lovely beach break is not supposed to be about sulks and rows and everyone wanting to do different things. Where are the cosy cream teas and the rockpooling? And why is her husband so keen to spend most of his holiday in London (where she secretly wants to be...)? Is it possible that he's finding his relaxation far closer to home?
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