Anyway, we were out tonight because Nan finally went on her hot air balloon ride from last year. The whole family [well, the best ones :-)] turned up to wave her off, in a very cheesy, The Waltons sort of way. Then, we all headed off down the pub for an hour. So here we are - in the beer garden at some crappy pub, sitting at a wonky picnic table beautifully decorated with bird shit, pissing ourselves at numerous bad jokes and hilarious past pranks.

I mentioned that I used to think everyone's family was as odd as ours, but they actually aren't. When I tell my mates about the adventures of us lot, they are rolling on the floor in tears of laughter, refusing to believe that my family are as bizarre as I say they are.

I know I could have one of those perfect, polite, well-mannered Flander-esque clans, but I really wouldn't want to. What's the point of a family if you can't take the piss out of each other, laugh at your uncle's doing their drunken 80s Madness dance, listen to James' awful jokes or Nan's witty quips? I'd hate to be one of those boring families, who 'don't approve' of the stuff we do. I mean, we may be a working class family, based in not exactly the most posh of areas and have more marriage failures than a daytime soap, but that's all part of our charm!

At the end of the day, so many friendships come and go, but families are stuck with you whether you like it or not, so what's the point in resenting them?

They may not be exactly perfect, but I am part of them and they are a part of me.

And I love 'em! Awwwwww - cheddar alert!