TO paraphrase Che in Evita “and the money kept rolling out” – how does any family survive the holidays without going bankrupt?

Parental pounds were on our minds as the bank holiday weekend left us several quid less well off than just a few days previously. And we only have an 18-month-old who is not yet able to utter the dreaded double-barrel “I want” or source her next prospective purchases for herself.

We first caught a dose of the disease which clearly seems to infect the masses, judging by the queues in the local superstores – the urgent need to improve one’s home.

After we forked out for a new shed, replacing the leaning (and rotting) shed of Kempshott, the rain stopped and we ended up at a certain farm, not in town but not far away, which charges parents and children over two around £6/7 for the pleasure of entry.

Cunningly, as my husband pointed out, we then paid them extra to feed their animals, purchasing a bucket of bits and pieces to let the sheep and so on snuffle out of our palms.

But it was all worth it for the fabulous photo opportunities; how her grandparents ooh-ed and ah-ed at the pictures of her timorously coming eye-to-eye with a determined goat and peering over a fence at little chicks. And said venue, we must admit, is a standout attraction full of sandpits, tractors, animals, ride-ons, soft play areas and the rest, perfect for completely exhausting mini-people.

As it was absolutely heaving with parents in search of a similar vaguely educational and value-for-money activity, we also dipped a toe into the waters of parental politics again.

What to say when your missile of a daughter collides with a more delicate child as you career after her muttering admonishments and apologies even though she doesn’t know what she’s done? Or tries to climb up onto a bench to join strangers at their packed lunch?

Or makes a beeline for the lovely jewellery that the lady over there is wearing? Or almost sits on someone while attempting to mount the roundabout as it’s in motion?

The cold response of some other parents is always a shock, though – have we all become so intolerant we can’t laugh off a toddler colliding with our legs or taking a fancy to our sunglasses?

Even though our darling daughter was happiest when running in circles around a muddy field, destroying my perfectly-formed sandcastles and trying to chew the chain on the swing – all of which we could have done for free elsewhere – it was still a great day out.

And she slept soundly for two hours when we got home!