Cold Comfort - by Dea Birkett

Just a couple of weeks ago, I wrote about how we were in pursuit of the sun. Well, now we've found it, the kids have turned all chilly on me. Now they're insisting the next place we go to isn't only cool - in every sense of the word - but absolutely freezing.

When I wrote before, I said that holidays had to be hot. I've already changed my mind. I now believe that they can be either hot or cold, but nothing in between. The Grove hotel, with a summertime sandy beach in the middle of Hertfordshire, complete with deck chairs and ice cream cart, found this out long ago. Not only do they have an artificial beach in August, in December they guaranteed a white Christmas, Narnia style, with the reception covered in a blanket of fake flakes.

My kids love it there. But why do they insist on blowing hot or cold? I think it's to do with dressing up. They like - as we all do - to wear different clothes when we're on holiday. And the best excuse for doing so is because it's far fresher or far warmer than at home.

Clothes, of course, maketh the man, woman and child. I know my strappy summer dresses come out the moment we leave Britain behind for sunnier regions. Away, I wear outrageous outfits I'd never normally wear. I feel like a different woman. And I presume the kids feel different, too. At least they dress very differently. My teenager doesn't pack a single hoodie in her suitcase, although she wouldn't be seen dead without one on in the streets around her own house. Of course, I think she looks far lovelier in her holiday attire.

So hot or cold - skimpy or salupettes - anything but jeans and T-shirt weather will suit us.