When we load up the car this afternoon for the overnight drive to our Devon bolthole, it won't be the kids' CDs and sandtoys topping the must-pack list. It will be: Tamiflu, tissues, sick bucket.

Just as we were winding down for the annual fortnight away, our three-year-old caught swine flu.

It was the speed with which Ralph - still bearing the odd welt from last month's chickenpox - came down with it that took us most by surprise. The happy Spiderman enthusiast we had on Wednesday morning had, by 5pm, turned into a floppy incinerator of snot and sneezes. When his temperature soared way beyond 39, we called our GP.

Although she clearly didn't want us within a hundred miles of the surgery, her telephone diagnosis was thorough and impressive - we weren't the first callers by a long chalk. Given that one of our local nurseries - Eaton Square - was one of the first in the country to suffer an outbreak, I guess she's been pretty much swamped with similar enquiries.

It seemed to be his dramatic and rapid fever that was the main indicator. That and the fact that my wife and I had both had what we thought were bad colds in the past few weeks.

Ralph was prescribed Tamiflu as was his sister Daisy, who's about to turn six and has no symptoms.

Far worse than that was the order to keep them in quarantine for 10 days. Ten days! Just as we're about to go on holiday.

The GP had some sort of superhotline to the Boots in Victoria station which meant I didn't need to pick up a prescription slip. When I got to the front of the queue I was discreetly asked: "Would you step this way, sir" in a manner that reminded of me of the words you always dread when going through customs.

In a side room, the pharmacist took me through the prescribing details - one capsule each a day, emptied into a spoonful of jam to remove the disgusting taste.

He was alarmed when I told him we were about to go on holiday. But when I said we'd be travelling by car and staying in a private house, he relaxed. "Just make sure you don't go to any places with other people around." No beach? No ice cream parlours?

But we're lucky. What would we have done if we'd been flying out to the Med? Cancelled our ticket? Pretended Ralph had galloping hayfever and gone anyway?

We loaded the kids up with the Tamiflu yesterday morning. Ralph spat it out, saying: "I don't like jam." Daisy's reaction was more troubling. Just under an hour after taking it, she threw up violently.

Sue phoned the GP to be told this was the reaction of one in 10 people, more in children. Great. So Daisy has nothing wrong with her, is ordered to miss the fun last days of the school term and now is given a drug that makes her ill. Apparently, the vomiting only lasts for the first day or two, but you do wonder what else the stuff's doing.

Roll on the holiday.

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