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FOR months, I’d been excited for my holiday. My daughter Sophia, 26, and I had booked a week in Copenhagen, where we looked forward to days spent wandering round the shops, sipping coffees and getting dressed up for dinner.

AFTER gently tucking my three children into bed for the night, I crept over to my eldest son’s money box and carefully extracted £50.

AFTER a long day of meetings, I board a packed commuter train feeling that potent combination of intense exhaustion and hunger.

WHEN I saw the pictures of the Duchess of ­Sussex having lunch with her hairdresser in London, I have to ­confess I had only one thought: thank heavens Meghan is back.

IT started in the middle of the night, always with a racing chest. My heart would pound like a steam train, despite the fact I was tucked up safely in bed.