I AM WRITING this in America. We did four days in New York, smack bang in the middle of Times Square.

The night we arrived, a Santa con was going on. Santa con is where everyone dresses up as Santa and then goes out on a drinking crawl.

My poor jet-lagged children were so surprised when they saw Santas being slammed up against cop cars getting arrested. “Mummy, why is he saying swear words?” the youngest asked tearfully.

My (awful) British accent went down a treat, with everyone telling me how posh I was (me!), so when lots of people with giant Disney heads on approached me, wanting a photo, I assumed it was because they thought I was some sort of royal.

I grinned alongside the Hulk, a pair of Minnie Mice (or is it Meeces?) and a giant Minion, who then all demanded money.

We are now in New Jersey which is as different from New York as anywhere could be.

We’ve gone from the city that never sleeps to the state that never wakes up.

In New York, we went to see the New York Knicks at Madison Square Garden. The husband went to see boxing, while I took the children to Aladdin.

We got kicked out at the interval because the two youngest ones fell asleep, blocking the aisle, then got physical when asked to move.

Here, we are off to see a zoo made up of disabled animals, three legged donkeys and blind horses.

On the first night we came, the hotel was hosting a beauty pageant winners’ Christmas dinner.

The husband got really excited and sneaked off as soon as he could, claiming he needed to get some ice. He was back very quickly, iceless and disappointed.

Apparently, they used to be beauty pageant queens 40 years ago.

He pushed some of them in their wheelchairs over to the Christmas tree so they could have a photo. One of them offered to do their old dance routine for him.

The next night was a meeting for people wanting to make a million dollars on the pyramid scheme.

We met them in the restaurant, which had “biscuits and gravy” on the breakfast buffet.

It was even worse than it sounded, so were the “cheese blitzers” (cheese in pastry with jam on top).

I never thought I’d miss my no-

added-sugar muesli, but I do.

There is a sign in the corridor which says “Please wear pants beyond this point” which so far, people have adhered to.

I wouldn’t say staying in one room, with three very excited, high-on-sugar children and a grumpy husband is a relaxing experience.

They wake up at 7am, all confused about the time and crack open the Lucky Charms.

I don’t think any holiday with children could be relaxing though, unless we went somewhere that had a children’s club. Not that they would go to it.

I’d be the one who wanted to go, while the rest of the family scowled at me and called me a saddo.

While I was here, I got another rejection letter from a writing competition I’d entered. The word “no” is nothing new to me.

Living with three kids, I hear it all the time.

Being in the creative field means “no” is 99 per cent of the journey.

I know this (excuse the pun), but it doesn’t make it any easier.

I feel like giving up. I can’t obviously, not just because the writing course I’m on cost a bomb, but because I can’t give up now. I’ll start eating my feelings and wearing a onesie out in public.

I’ve never given up on anything in my life. It took me four years to persuade my husband he wanted to go out with me. I was told I couldn’t have children, but I refused to stop trying. (That was one project the husband was happy to support). It took me ten goes to pass my driving test. It might have taken me less if I’d tried flirting less and driving better. I didn’t give up on the baby love bird that the vet told me wasn’t going to make it.

Quitting is not in my DNA. I’m like Tyson Fury when he fought Deontay Wilder last week. No one thought he would make the 12 rounds because he’d been inactive, depressed, addicted to drugs and put on 11 stone. When he got knocked down in the 12th round, everyone thought it was all over for him.

He was completely sparko when he fell back on to the canvas. Wilder started celebrating, and then, just like the Undertaker used to in WWE, Fury opened his eyes and got back up to win a personal triumph. The fight ended up being a draw. No one believed for a second it could be possible.