Author: beckyjo125

The school re-union

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Saturday July 8 2023

I am channeling my inner ‘Romy and Michele’, as July kicks off with, a school reunion…

It is not the first time school have held such gatherings, but it is the first one I have been to. Why I have always swerved them in the past? I’m not entirely sure!

Was I not curious? Was I not tempted to ‘show off’? ‘Was I not drawn the to chance to re-live my youth?’ These are, some of, the reasons the RGS Foundation cite in their article ‘Top 10 reasons you should attend your old school reunion’. But I have to confess to none of these emotions. I’ve always been pretty successful at keeping in contact with my closest school pals, plus we now have social media to widen friendship groups further, so the classmate contact feels already in place.

What about the building themselves then? Retreading the corridors with their memories and ghosts? Sitting in your former classroom and feeling yourself racing back in time? Triggers to old traditions and long-forgotten routines? As another writer, penning on the topic of reunions puts it,

You can explore the hallways, classrooms, and other parts of the school, which can bring back a flood of emotions and nostalgia.

Sorry, but this isn’t me either, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, life’s twists and turns, have brought back in my home town and my children have all attended my old school for their sixth-form studies. So, via inductions, open days and parental evenings, I’ve gradually re-built my recollections of the lovely old buildings and gracious grounds…what’s left of them that is. Because, secondly, there has been so much building and expansion that ‘my school’ of the 1980s is barely recognisable in places.

So why do I go this time?

Well clearly not for any of the usual reasons. Above all, readers, I have reached the glorious 50s, a decade when you joyfully realise that you no longer give ‘two penn’orth’ for the opinions of others but you do welcome a social event on the midweek calendar. I sign up because one of my oldest friends, who now lives far away, announces that she is going to attend and I think… ‘this sounds like fun!’

And that is exactly what it turns out to be.

As the great day dawns, I race home from work, just in time to fling open the front door, welcome my visitor and … open a bottle of fizz. Two glasses down, we grab a uber into town and head through the school gates into a foyer of: canapes, bucks fizz and a bustle of ‘old girls.’ Amidst the crowds we find other members of our class, listen to some speeches, potter around the school, laugh over our old class register and then…head for the pub.

It is great to see everyone and catch-up, face to face. Wonderful women, funny and smart, who are living life with all its ups and downs, (mostly ups). And it is hilarious to look back together; the infamous ‘ouija board’ affair, some notable vocal performances, old romances, the occasional teacher-crush and we find that, whilst we can still parrot off each other’s childhood landline numbers, nobody can agree on who our fourth year form tutor was!

It’s also just nice to let my hair down over a few drinks. Well, I say a few but as we stumble back into the house, my sober offspring later tell me, I am doing impressions of my brothers and reminiscing about the day Elvis died ! I still cannot remember much of that and, ruefully concede that I should probably have heeded Women’s Health’ s school reunion tip number 10, “Go Easy on the Alcohol!”

The next day, thankfully a planning away-day, is not my finest hour. But, on balance, I decide, very much worth it. Were school days the ‘best days of my life’? Well, whether they were or were not, that is definitely the most fun I’ve had on a Thursday evening ‘school night’ for a very long time. Here’s to the next time ladies …

Strawberry breakfast …

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Saturday 24 June 2023

So this Saturday, instead of setting my alarm and swigging a few mouthfuls of tea before racing off to meet my run buddy, I get up when I wake up, potter into the kitchen to savour my morning brew and glance into the garden … whereupon, I espy strawberries!

Oh my goodness, I had completely forgotten my strawberry plants were there! A distant memory stirs of me sowing the seeds in Spring 2022. I think that a couple of berries did appear last Summer but were swiftly devoured by the birds before I ever got near and since then, I have pretty much left them to their own devices!

So when I read, on the Sunflower Farms blog , that strawberries

” …don’t require much yet produce a delightful harvest…”

I can certainly affirm that this is true. With not a scrap of attention from me over the past 12 month, my plants have, not only survived, but have flourished and are now laden down with fine red fruits. (Sometimes, I ponder, that this may also be the unexpected success of my lone-child rearing efforts. With their mum short on time and resources, my trio have often had to figure things out for themselves and seem to be doing pretty well on it. ) But, I digress; back to my Fragaria x ananassa, which is the scientific name for those goodly berries.

I slide into some sliders and head out, old ice-cream tub in hand to gather my crop!

One of the main benefits, claim Hartey Botanic Magazine, of growing your own are that,

“Homegrown strawberries taste delicious“

I bite into my first fruit… ughh… not great! maybe I have plucked them too early or too late, but that berry is bitter and woody. Into my head, however, pops a vision from my childhood, of a friend’s mum soaking strawberries in vinegar. I guess it stuck because it seems so counterintuitive. Alexa, however, concurs that I should indeed ‘soak strawberries in a solution of 1 part vinegar and 4 parts water for 5 minutes’.

So I do; and they are transformed.

I breakfast triumphantly on a sumptuous bowl of oat, berries, yogurt and honey. It is tasty! And there are plenty more berries still to be harvested this year, with the promise of yet more in 2024. As the experts tell me that ,

“One of the biggest benefits of growing strawberries is their perennial nature. You can reap the rewards of your labor for several years after initially planting strawberries with minimal effort after the initial planting year. “

Well, ‘hip hip hooray’ I say! Good for the budget, good for your health and minimal on effort. What is not to love?

Plus, I now feel set for the day. Am I to be a non-running lady of leisure? No I am not. I have a ton of work to clear before Sunday night, when Elton John takes to the pyramid stage at Glastonbury! Elton is in my ‘top three’ of acts I’d love to see live before I die. (The friend I have most discussed this with will, I know, be currently tearing his hair out at my musical tastes… but I stand firm!) Anyway, as this is his ‘Farewell Tour‘ I’m guessing that the ‘live’ ship has now sailed but at least I have the TV … if that is I can wrestle the remote from Smallboy who is unusually obsessed with Love Island this season.

I fancy my chances of victory to be honest, and I also think that Elton and the rest of my top 3 deserve their own post so, until then, I need to get busy …

Time to stop running…

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Saturday 17 June 2023

This weekend, as I struggle even to kneel on the floor, I finally have to accept that … I’ve wrecked my right knee!

For now, it means farewell to running, because, whilst I receive lots of varied advice: ‘looks like your cartilage’; ‘could be your IT band’; ‘you need ice pack’ ‘you need a heat pack’; ‘rest it’, ‘bind it and see how you go ‘ all concur that the pavement pounding is the root cause and that I have ‘runner’s knee’ – eek!

That’s certainly where it began, as far back as January, when my knee would twinge and make me a bit ‘hobbly’ after a run but ease during the week. And it is also where it ended … on a sunny Saturday morning, three weeks ago. My illustrious run buddy had dragged us successfully to the top of a hill, but only 3 minutes into the glorious gallop of a downhill, the pain shooting down my leg was so awful that we had to pull up and limp me home.

Last week, I ventured out again but it was not successful (and probably not wise) and so, I have now, decided to hang up my trainers for at least a month.

For a few days, I feel like a bona-fide athlete with an ‘injury’. Let’s face it, I’ve smiled my way supportively (occasionally with gritted teeth) through so many of the aches and ailments of the past husbands (okay, only one ex hub) and men in my life, that I have definitely earned my five minutes of ‘Patellofemoral Pain’– fame. But, pretty quickly, I just feel a bit blue.

Is it that I missing running?

Not really. I mean if it ends up being a permanent ‘so long‘ to striding out each Saturday, then I will be sad. My weekly 10K is activity that not only keeps me fit, but has also been sociable, fun and a brilliant way to strengthen friendships with a number of inspirational women. And for busy females, with lots of caring responsibilities, running is the perfect choice; fitting around demanding lives and keeping us within easy reach of those who may need us. From a single mum’s perspective, jogging is also great because it is so easy on the purse. Get yourself a pair of trainers and, off you go!

Because of this, I don’t completely rule out out lacing up my running shoes again. But, for me, the killer blow has not been the loss of weekly exercise, it has been the combination of incessant pain and, experiencing, for the first time, the limitations on my movement and my body.

To this point, I’ve lived happily and harmoniously in this frame. Flexible, bendy and always at ease in my own bones; that is what I am used to and that’s where I expected to stay. And I thank childhood gymnastic lessons for it.

Oh Gym club! I trundled along, aged 8, in a pair of ghastly floral shorts, just about able to bundle through an ungainly forward roll, and … it was a baptism of fire. Gymnastics, in the late 70s, was not for the fainthearted and it was a case of give up or go on a very steep learning curve. I chose the latter.

My mum got a book from the library, I got a leotard and we both lined the hall with cushions and mattresses so that I could practise handstands and walkovers and hurling myself, repeatedly forwards and backwards into the kitchen. Within a year, I had been moved into the Sunday squad, had a floor routine to music and could spring onto the vault from such a distance that, not only was I a shoe-in for the sack race on Sports Day, but I was also the interschool’s long jump champion. Moreover, I was strong and supple. Although mum made me pack it all in as I moved to high school (and she wanted me to concentrate on homework), the feeling of fluidity lived on and … I guess I thought it would last forever

Until now. It is a horribly shock to find my motion so limited. Pain when I squat down to load the washing machine and a huge struggle to get back up. Only able to hobble stiffly down the stairs each morning. On some days, just feeling so drained with the aching in my leg, that I could cry. Will this ever be cured, I wonder, if I carry on running?

Friends have recommended, seeing doctors, visiting physios, getting injections! One even thought keyhole surgery would be an option. But … none of them are single mums. I can justify neither the time nor the money for any of this. I am already behind on dental treatment (due to cost) and some routine GP checks (due to time and workload).

My only hope is that a bit of R and R does the trick. So, fingers crossed, otherwise yoga class, rambling group and walking sticks here I come!

There’s just something about a new washing machine …

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Monday 29 May 2023

This weekend, our new washing machine is delivered. It is such an upgrade, I feel as if I’ve joined the space age. And I am smitten …

It is sleek and silent. The controls are an intuitive inspiration to navigate and its zips through the weekend laundry with eco-friendly ease. Oh I could and sit and gaze at it all day!

Now that does take me back! Because in the late 70s, when we got our first automatic machine that is exactly what my elder brother and I did. Pulled up small chairs and sat there, with our bowls of Rice Krispies, foregoing Saturday ‘Swap Shop‘ on TV to watch the clothes rotating round in the drum instead; such was the excitement!

Although it was a fond farewell to its predecessor, the old ‘twin-tub top loader’ device, which I recall being honoured to help with… very occasionally. My chubby toddler legs planted firmly on a kitchen stool, mum would let me use the huge wooden tongs to haul soggy garments from the washing side to the spinner!

I can only imagine one almighty mess with me at the helm of this operation but I think that mum was so busy marvelling about what a step-change this was from the laundry days of her childhood and doubtless, re-telling yet again the gruesome tale of her brother, getting his thumb caught in the mangle (ouch), that she failed to notice!

So, from the menacing mangle machine to my Bosch series 4; what rapid technological progress in my mum’s lifetime alone! And what a difference it has made to women in particular. Is that the secret of the washing machine’s allure?

It has undoubtedly brought huge labour saving benefits to the home. Actually, let me just amend that, homes in the developed world. In his brilliant TED Talk ‘The magic Washing Machine’ Hans Rosling, not only captures, with charm, the the impact of the first automatic machine but also challenges us to address the disparity in global technological development and the issues this poses for both equality of opportunity and world-wide energy consumption.

Whilst acknowledging the severity of climate change issues, Hans remains an enthusiatic advocate of the washing machine throughout, citing in his hugely engaging talk

“If you have a democracy, people will vote for washing machines…”

And many others agree. Google ‘the benefits of the washing machine for women’ and there are countless authors, from the Vatican to University researchers who have written about how reducing the chore of washing that weekly load from a 4-hour slog to a 40 minute automation has had a profound impact on our world, and women’s lives in particular. Tina Ruseva CEO of Montessa, writing on International Women’s Day in 2020, sums it up neatly ” … contraception, washing machines, and the Internet – technology has empowered women like no public program in human history. In fact it has empowered society as a whole….”

So my marvelling is not misplaced this afternoon, in fact I feel utterly justified in brewing myself a nice coffee and taking a moment to moon over my newest kitchen recruit once more.

Welcome washing machine and were you on the ballot paper in the next election…you’d probably get my cross!

Here comes the sun…

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Saturday 27 May 2023

Can anyone believe our British luck? Bank Holiday weekend and half term and the sun is out!

I know, but ‘Shush’, we don’t want to jinx it because after some endlessly long and wet times in Winter and Spring, it is a most welcome sight. And, I read, it is also good for us!

Oh ‘easy skin-care brigade‘, it goes without saying that we all slap on the factor 50 but, with that protection in place, let’s look at the upside of some solar basking!

In his podcast ‘Just one thing‘ , Michael Mosley looks at why we should get some sun and concludes that,

.”..the truth is, our bodies need it – especially in the northern hemisphere…”

Sitting outside and soaking up the rays is claimed to have a wealth of benefits for both our physical and mental health. It boosts our vitamin D, important for bone health and also for fighting range of diseases, including dementia, autoimmune diseases and diabetes. Sunlight can also contribute to lowering blood pressure. And it feels great? Well, indeed, there is some scientific evidence that it does lift our mood, one study finding that levels of serotonin in our blood are higher on bright days than on those that are cloudy or overcast.

I can add a fourth… it is super relaxing! In a blissfully quiet home, with all my offspring either off in Uni-land or out at work, I happily sway in the sun, on my zero gravity lounger for most of the afternoon. And the garden is swathed in warm rays for longer than usual. Yes, about a month ago I was more than a little shaken when one of my neighbours went a touch psycho with his hedge cutters and lopped a good 2 metres off our adjoining wall of greenery. Today, however, whilst it still looks absolutely atrocious, I am reaping the benefits of wall to wall sunshine. And, my oh my, it is marvellous.

Now I know there will be some amongst you claiming that you ‘hate just sitting around doing nothing‘ and need to be ‘kept busy’. Well to you, I politely throw down the gauntlet of living my life for a month, in its full entirety of lone- motherly madness. I’m pretty confident that after 4 weeks you’d not only be putting aside your qualms about an afternoon of lounging but actually begging just to be allowed to sit down and enjoy some peace and quiet! And if not, well go out for a walk, resit the urge to ruin everyone’s tranquility with your lawn mowers and leave us layabouts be!

So I am off to enjoy a little but more of life in my lounger. Let’s just hope the fine weather lasts…

I was looking for a job…

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Saturday 22 April 2022

” … and then (they) found a job”

Heavens knows I’m Miserable now: The Smiths

As we move into the second half of April, two of my offspring find themselves on the payroll…

In the Scottish capital, Prom-dress daughter secures a job in a trendy cocktail bar and closer to home, in the pretty village up the road from our house, Small Boy is taken on at a local coffee shop. They are both very excited, well for my daughter, struggling to stretch a student loan to cover living costs, there is also a lot of relief.

Is it wrong, however, that I feel a little concerned?

Of course, I understand the attraction of some extra funds for a teenager and I also accept that I have never experienced the financial challenges and worries that today’s University students face. Nonetheless, I also know that one route to real financial choice and security comes from a decent set of qualifications and my question is this; can you have both? Can you get the best grades if your time is divided between work and study?

I’m not the only one to wonder. Oxbridge continue to actively discourage term-time work. But, in a landscape of spiralling costs, many students find that they simply have no choice because loans frequently fail to even cover the basic rent. Sir Peter Lampl, founder and chairman of the Sutton Trust, highlights the additional pressures on students from less affluent backgrounds,

“For many, wages from part-time work are the only way they can make ends meet …. It’s tough and it’s often the students’ academic work that loses out.”

Others point out that it is not only studying time, but also social time that is squeezed by the addition of a job into the student schedule, which can lead to isolation and stress. One student, in the Guardian Article, ‘How much part-time work should I take on while studying?‘ reported “getting really run-down and ill” and being “always envious of friends who could just concentrate on their studies”

Well ‘heaven’s knows I’m miserable now‘, that all sounds rather grim, so what of the benefits? Clearly there’s the cash, but does part-time job have any other advantages?

Reassuringly UCAS, in the article ‘Balancing work and study’ point our several plus points,

“As long as it doesn’t take up too much study time, finding a part-time job is a great way to gain more money, less debt, and new skills for your CV“

The cite a range of generic employability skills such as: communication, team work and time management. And, dependant on the nature or the role, point out that students can also learn various technical skills and that ‘above all, employers will want you to display the same skills in fresh thinking and systematic working that make you a success academically‘ . This positive view of part-time employment is echoed by several other Universities too, as well as, less surprisingly, most employment agencies.

The key seems to be the balance and two pieces of sage advice ring in my ears as I read through the various pieces of guidance in this area. The first is the recommendation from most course providers that part-time work, during term time, is kept to a maximum of 15 – 20 hours per week. The second is not to lose sight of why you are studying in the first place and to be prepared to lose the shifts if your grades or health start to suffer.

“Remember that you’re paying to be at uni and get a degree, so don’t waste that by running yourself into the ground”

Sound and sensible words indeed. I’ll keep it in mind as we enter the new world of the teenage workers …

Osma in Prestwich…

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Thursday 13 April 2023

In the late 80’s, a university boyfriend who’d travelled to visit me, in my home town of Prestwich, insisted on a pilgrimage to the house of Mark E Smith, sadly now late but ever irascible frontman of the Fall. Two weeks ago, another uni friend calls to say that we must ‘do lunch‘ at a great Prestwich restaurant that is featuring on The Great British Menu. Yes, all Prestwich, my childhood stomping ground, … who knew?

Is there no end to the eclectic mix of fame and fortune in this small Mancunian suburb? (Prestwich also boasts, to name but a few: Victoria Wood, Elkie Brookes, Arlene Phillips, novellist Howard Jacobson and Godley and Creme!) Well, clearly not; indeed I could be forgiven for feeling quite the serial underachiever as a local of these parts! But enough of my life reflections, what of the latest star on the Prestwich podium?

Requests from old uni pals aside, we have already been once, but when I frantically text my fellow diner with the exciting news that chef Danielle Heron is indeed now on the TV, we decide that we have to go again. So let me tell you our latest trip to Osma…

What can I say but… an outstanding evening!

Our waiter is a delight. Knowledgeable, attentive and fun. He also gets full marks for navigating the hilarious confusion my friend causes when mistaking the wine prices for the alcohol percentage. (Oh yes, it will be a while before I let this one drop!) And then comes the food. We share five small plates and each is sensational, I mean I write my fanciful adjectives now, but at the time after one dish I just have to tell our spirited server,

“That was bloomin’ fantastic!”

Influenced by the chef’s time in Oslo, the plates have a definite ‘Scandi-feel’; fresh and light but utterly full of flavour. In short, each serving appears crafted to make your taste buds sing. It also looks beautiful. What’s not to love?

The atmosphere is also friendly and relaxed. It is one of those evenings when 7pm becomes 10pm before you’ve even noticed. We are having such an amazing time, that we also share a desert and dawdle over coffee.

So would I recommend? I definitely would. In fact, I cannot wait until my other uni friend visits is the Summer to try out the ‘Lunch Menu’. Whilst the evening is all about , “small sharing plates … accompanied by wines and cocktail” the midday menu promises

“open Scandinavian sandwiches and hearty salads – using seasonal ingredients from local British farms and producers – alongside fresh juices and great coffee.”

Sounds delicious!

So for this evening a fond farewell to Osma, a definite reason to feel even prouder than ever to come from Prestwich, but be assured, I shall be back … it might even become a compulsion with me …

Easter by the sea …

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Saturday 8 April 2023

Easter Saturday dawns and we hop into the car for our first family holiday since Gran Canaria in 2019. Llyn Peninsula here we come…

It may only be for a long weekend and it may be to a part of the world we are all very familiar with, as my family has had a caravan in this lovely corner of North Wales for close to 5 decades. Nonetheless, there is just no beating a family trip.

With my offspring now marching confidently into adulthood, this getaway is much about nostalgia and and the delight of rediscovering old routines. We breakfast, on the road, at our favourite faithful diner. Upon arrival we dig out the flipflops and sliders and head straight for the beach; beautiful Blackrock Sands and 2 miles of sandy coast.

The weather is glorious and there is much laughter and fun. Moreover, strolling along the beach and paddling in the sea with ice-creams feels a millions miles away from the urban sprawl of Greater Manchester we left only hours earlier.

We don’t escape the Mancunians entirely however as, to revive our legs after the walk, Small boy and I find ourselves watching a Manchester City (City, I know and to make matters worse they are spectacular) match at the rowdy caravan club with several bottles of much needed Peroni. Meanwhile, the girls have re-united with some old ‘caravan friends‘ and are catching up with drinks in a quieter part of the complex.

A trip to the fish and chip shop sorts out tea and after a little more beer and a hilarious rummage through the old caravan board games, it is time to turn in… and full of sea air and a little bit of alcohol we sleep like logs.

Next day, with our caravan friends we set out on a walk over the beach and across the hilltops to Porthmadog, the nearest town for lunch. It is a fabulously sunny day once more and the scenery is stunning. It is also quite a trek and legs are weary and faces wear the blush of exercise, as well as the first spring sun, as we toil back, feeling pretty proud of ourselves.

We round off our Easter weekender with a drive to Llandudno, which is actually a new destination for us all, before heading home on the M56 once more.

What a terrific few days away. I realise I’ve missed family holidays. There really is nothing quite like them for building bonds and memories. I’ll have to accept that, for my young adults, 3 days away with their mum is probably the limit now so …. here’s to the next mini-vacation…

Cambridge

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Wednesday 29 March 2023

At 7am this morning, I wave Small boy off on a two-day course at Cambridge University. He is actually staying overnight in the college I went to, (back in the ancient history of the 1980s) so permission to feel a little bit emotional …

Or is it more that I feel quite a lot of envy. University memories – gosh such happy times! It was part of a time in my life when every year just seemed to get better and better. The work was tough; intense, challenging and delivered at pace that was not for the fainthearted. In tandem though, the living, the lovely friends, the support and the vibrancy was also incredible. Would I love to go back and do it all again? In a breath! But the years have rolled on, and it it no longer my time to dream of higher education, freedom and the first thrill of true independence. No, now it is the turn of my youngest child.

“Take pictures!” I call out, as he hops into the car that is taking him ‘down south‘.

And he does; photos of colleges, chapels and a video of his room, which really makes me smile because I know he is sending the pictures, not because he is in awe of the ancient splendour (my son is an irreverent left-wing rebel ) but rather that he knows it will make me happy. And right there, in that very moment, any envy disappears and I just feel emotional again, Though this time, not with nostalgia for my undergraduate past nor for the re-tread of family footsteps, but because it simply warms my heart to be reminded just how kind my lovely boy is.

He also send a triumphant 12:30 am text announcing that his team have ‘won‘ the quiz that the organisers have put on as an evening social event.

By contrast, my evening is some rushed and uninspiring food after a full and frantic day topped off by a parental consultation event that stretches the working hours to 8pm.

By the end of the next working day, he is home and I can see the change. Is my son, as I once was, now picturing himself amidst the dreaming spires, following in the footsteps of Newton and Turing ? In all honesty, I don’t think he is. The trip has, nonetheless, fired up his enthusiasm for Higher Education. His passion for Chemistry lives on, (“but definitely not Chemical Engineering mum!”) and his previous lethargy has been replaced by a decently researched list of the best establishments for his courses of choice. He is planning Open Days and trips to City Universities across the land.

He does also find time to tell me that everyone thought that my old College was the best one by far …

Small moments to savour on the parenthood journey …

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Sunday 19 March 2023

Mother’s day 2023, my card tells me that I ‘deserve to have the best day!‘ … and I do!

Why so great? Well for one, my eldest child pops home for the weekend. But for two, she takes me out for lunch! Yes, let me say that one again, very slowly; she takes me out. She books the table. She invites the guests. She organises the transport. She evens pays. I don’t have to do anything! Great restaurant, great company; it’s a treat I shall cherish.

Could this be, I ponder, the moment when I pass on the baton of ‘chief organiser and sorter-outer’ to the next generation? Probably not, but for today at least it is amazing, because I can tell you this. The child-rearing journey is one relentless marathon. But, those of you with of small infants, do not despair! Just when you think you cannot take anymore and have hit your parental wall, take heart. Around every corner, come small life-saving moments to savour. After two decades of muddling through motherhood, here are mine

My first game changer is cow’s milk, which arrives at the age of 12 months. It is ‘farewell’ to battling with breastfeeding and a grateful ‘goodbye’ to prepping the cursed formula bottles each evening; sterilising, scooping, measuring and mixing through eyes so weary they are propped open with matchsticks. The calendar shows that 1 year and passed and overnight, you are simply allowed to open the fridge and pour some milk into a beaker. Goodness gracious, it feels like a wondrous miracle!

Next for me; the end of nappies. I’m not going to lie, the potty training months are a tense time, but oh so worth it! As your toddler finally masters the art of using the loo, it is off to the tip for that dreadful device know as the ‘changing bag’! Once again, you step out with a swing in your step, no longer weighed down with nappies and wipes and bags and changes of clothes and ….oh, it is glorious. How did you not appreciate this simple pleasure before? And, from my viewpoint, even better is to come.

Probably one of my favourite moments of all. You feed and drag your child up to the magical mark of 135 cm and the car seat can go! It’s utterly liberating. One day, your life is a drudge of lifting and securing offspring’s arms and legs into complex arrays of straps and fasteners. The next you are just breezily shouting ‘time to go kids!‘, opening the car door and watching them climb in and sort themselves out. On the first few occasions, you’ll just stand there open mouthed with your car keys thinking, ‘Is that it, can I just set off?’ And ‘Hallelujah’ yes you can! A magnificent moment indeed.

High school also occurs around this time, bringing with it a surge in offspring independence. This one is a little double edged, but I shall start with the positives. Let’s take a moment to appreciate the humble bus pass. Your children now get themselves to school. It is beyond fantastic. I’m a working mum and as I waved my youngest child off on the 472 in his new school blazer, my working life was about to transform. No longer tied to breakfast club opening times and after school club hours, I could just set off when it suited me. No longer shouting at kids to ‘get through the bathroom’, ‘get dressed’ and ‘get in the car‘, I could drive calmly to and from school thinking about the day ahead. I was consistently on time for the management meeting for the first time in 7 years, no longer stressed out about late pick-up fees, if I was caught in traffic at the end of the day. I thanked my lucky stars, felt incredulous at how much easier life seemed to be once more and marvelled at how many more hours there were in each day.

As a cautionary note however, I did warn that the teenage years also bring their disadvantages in terms of your blossoming freedoms, and here they are. As your children advance through school and sixth-form, their social lives also take off, so, unless you have the pockets to keep your local Uber company in business, do be prepared for your duties as late night taxi service! I am currently in the midst of this one. Small boy and his considerable circle of friends are a very sociable lot and most weeks bring an enviable offering of outings, parties and general merrymaking for them. For me, alas, it means too many evening when the cherished glass of red has to be replaced by a consolation cup of tea. I suppose eventually they’ll all learn to drive and get cars!

Looking back, I cannot actually believe I made it to this stage, particularly as I did most of it on my own. Well, to be fair that’s not quite true, for 7 years I did have my ‘pretty nice guy’ to keep me sane! He may never have helped out much with the kids but he did remind me that parenting was not my only role in life. You’ll find, young mothers in particular, that people stop asking ‘how are you?’ and replace it with ‘how are the kids?’. It’s okay to a point but you can start to feel a bit invisible so I am very thankful that I did have an adult companion for many great adventures and crazy capers, during the toughest of the child-raising years! It definitely stopped me going under.

So, add a few dates nights into your survival notes too! But I’m now dreaming of the day when all my trio can drive me around for a change so I’ll end my post there. I’m off to sign Small boy up for his provisional license…