Earlier this year I went to the Middle East to stilt walk at a fair in front of the Bahraini royal family. As one does in one’s day job. So I had to work while I was there but for me it was a single mother escape with endless joy from the minute I sat down on the plane. I love planes. Someone gives you food regularly, you watch endless TV and films, read pointless magazine articles, someone refills your drink and cleans up your spills and you don’t have to make anyone dinner. What is not to love? When we arrived in Bahrain we had drivers to help with our bags and take us to and from the hotel. I can handle hotels, I really can. Having a slave clean the bathroom and make your bed every day was divine. This single mother was loving it. One day after work I had a massage, then sat in the jacuzzi for two hours. Because I could. Someone else was washing my sheets. Free from housework and childcare, I could shop, eat too much food, look at tourist sites and sleep in. When I returned to my darling friends who had looked after my children while I was away, I realised that even though I loved my Middle East adventure, from the camels to the swarthy men, it didn’t really matter where I went, because every slave mother needs to misbehave at least once a year.