After a very hectic few days, I finally make it to my friend’s idyllic holiday cottage to relax and wind down…
Hectic? Well yes, before I can even think about my own journey, this morning, at an unsociable 3:30 am to be exact, I deliver ex-hub and all three of our offspring to Manchester airport. The day before, was enlivened by the drama of train cancellations. Prom-dress daughter, en route from Edinburgh, booked tickets on three trains which were subsequently scrapped, before managing to leap onto an Intercity that got her as far as York. But that is not Manchester! And so, (whilst I had asked ex-hub to factor such train tribulations into his travel plans – but he didn’t,) I set out in the rain and gathering gloom of Sunday evening to complete 3 hour round trip to collect her. So you’ll understand that I am a little weary.
Still … breathe… I am now here. It is a beautiful spot and we have a wonderful week of pleasing ourselves and switching off from work, family and … everything.
I enjoy day after day of luxurious lie-ins. We walk for miles through the lush green countryside, blessed by forecast-defying, fine weather. It is stunning to look at and feels revitalising to be in.
We eat… really well and far too much. We drink a lot of wine. We do a spot of late night star gazing and we share a lot of laughter. I am even allowed to indulge my jigsaw obsession.
My friend finds this highly amusing but I hold firm. Alongside the benefits of fresh air, good food and plenty of humour, the humble jigsaw is a terrific way to de-stress. To quote ‘Gibson’s games’, on the many benefits of puzzling,
“Completing a jigsaw has a similar affect to meditation as it generates a sense of calmness and peace. Because our minds are focused, we find ourselves concentrating on the puzzle alone, which empties our brains of the stresses and anxieties we face every day“
And something tells me that inner strength and reserves of sleep will be needed as the week draws to a close and we pack our bags for home once more. I’m collecting ex-hub and our three children from Ringway around midnight on Saturday. Then on Sunday morning, I need to get Prom-dress daughter back to Edinburgh for an 11:30 am shift, so back to the reality of being a mum with a bang! Thank the Lord for at least one week’s break…
Well pour me a large glass of wine and switch off the 6am alarm for the next month! I have, finally, finished work for the Summer. The only thing on the agenda for tomorrow is Windsor, the trusty Toyota’s, MOT…
My old car has definitely earned his stripes and a well deserved break from us all, if only for a few hours this Friday. He has covered a fair few miles recently.
He’s been up to Edinburgh and across to Middlesbrough, to collect and store student belongings, trundling hundreds of motorway miles with his spacious boot crammed to the rafters with clothes, kitchenware … and even a chest of drawers! He was the reliable roadster taking mum and I to a recent hospital visit on the other side of Manchester (She had offered to go alone by taxi but, by good fortune Windsor and I were also there because her previous solo visit, it transpired, had resulted in a minor meds mix-up. All now, thankfully, resolved) He’s gallivanted across the Northwest from Fleetwood to Eccles delivering me to rehearsals and concerts. And he’s been by my side for the daily work commute (a round trip of over 200 miles per week.)
So he needs this MOT and a bit of RnR, I think as I drop him off the next morning. Possibly a fair bit of work too, as the old boy now has over 120 000 mile on the clock, plus a few bashes and bruises after nearly a decade of my driving.
I meander home to pass a very pleasant and relaxing morning as well. With no vehicle, I am suddenly at no-one’s beck and call. Instead, I spend my time doing… pretty much what I had planned to do with my first day of holidays. It is marvellous. I am productive. I am creative. I complete yoga routine one. I am uninterrupted and stress free. I am also about to get a huge surprise. It’s the garage,
“Your car’s passed, so you can pick it up whenever you’re ready”
‘Passed?’ I repeat several times in hushed tones. But it is true; not even an advisory on the paperwork. I am so shocked that I post the news straight into the family WhatsApp …
Oh what a dismal, disastrous school-girl error!
Within seconds the screen lights up,
“Oh does that mean you can pick me up from work at 4?”
“Can you give us a lift to basketball at 8?”
“My train gets into Piccadilly at 7:33″
What have I done? A day of delicious self-indulgence shatters before my eyes. I collect my faithful old car and the pair of us stagger straight back into our usual, exhausting taxi-routine. By 9:30 pm, I am finally trying to de-frazzle on the sofa with a glass of whiskey.
There is however a dim light on the horizon. On Monday morning, I am, for some reason, rising at 4am to drive my trio and their dad to the airport for a flight to Berlin. A miserably early start for sure, but possibly one that means, maybe.. just maybe … I get a one peaceful week and a chance to put on the brakes and recharge my batteries this holiday…
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!
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 …
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!
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…
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?
“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 …
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…
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…
I do like a half term! A little bit like a the starter in a three course meal, or the John Lewis advert before a lengthy Christmas movie, it is the small perfectly formed feature of the school holiday calendar. Too short for procrastination and wasting time, there’s nothing for it but to have some great days out… even if all of mine seem to involve red wine!
Rest assured; I hold off on the Merlot until at least midday!
The days dawn with Duolingo! Despite much searching, I have admitted defeat in my quest to find a face to face German class and have instead downloaded the Duolingo app. Confess, I must, to a rapid descent into obsession… by day three, I am number two on the leader board. The top spot, well its only a matter of time…
My second morning quest; being a super-mum. Yes, Small boy and I have different half terms, and so I set my alarm, for 7:30 am each morning (still a luxurious lie-in) and run him to college. For me, this is actually quite a treat. When my trio were little, I did do some playground parent duties but ex-hub left when all three were under 8 and ever since, I’ve been fully-working, frantic mum, hurling primary-age kids into pre-school clubs, before tearing up the motorway to work and entrusting in the fate of their school travel to TfGM from the moment they hit high school. So this week, a relaxed start for us both, (some mornings we even manage breakfast) followed by a convivial chat on the 20 minute journey to lesson 1, makes us smile.
As the clock chimes noon however, it is often time for me to head out and catch-up with my fabulous friends. I do afternoon tea, in the middle of Manchester with a bottle of Montepulciano and whisky chasers. I do a tapas lunch with large glasses of Merlot and so much laughter that the waitress comes over to check that we are ok and to share the joke. And finally, oh finally I discover the newest delights of Oxford Road, when I meet one of my friends after work.
Firstly, there’s his snazzy new offices, amidst the eateries and mini outdoor ‘symphony’ space of Circle Square, after which we wander to Hatch, a lively set of bars and food stalls unashamedly housed below the concrete bridges and flyovers of the 20th century road system. We enjoy some lovely ‘natural wine’ and catch-up on on January news, before heading to astonishing Kimpton Tower Hotel.
Wow – the place is incredible. Housed in a magnificent terracotta Grade II–listed building, Kimpton Clocktower has a history that dates back to 1890, when the building first opened as The Refuge Assurance Company headquarters. Today, it’s a stylish hotel, with a killer bar. It gives me such ‘Raffles Hotel’ vibes that I reach for the cocktail menu and find, not a Singapore, but a ‘Salford Sling’. Utterly delicious and the Victorian architecture is so amazing that some small detail takes my attention every 5 minutes. I will definitely be back.
Regrettably, half term is now drawing to a close, so I shall also soon be back to work and the dreaded 6am wake-up call. Am I looking forward to that? I really cannot say that I am. Nonetheless, whilst there is still nothing to rival the sparkle and magic of my Christmas holiday, this was a really nice half-term and and a chance to remember that there is far more to life than ‘eat, sleep work, repeat’…
We’ve had some good double birthday celebrations over the years, but, as I wheel out an impressively full blue bin (glass and tins in these parts) for tomorrow’s collection, I have to admit that this year’s will go down as one of the best…
Step forward Small boy for birthday number one. My son, gallivanting swiftly through his teenage years, has a very large circle of very sociable friends. A few weeks ago, he brings me a cup of tea (ever a suspicious sign) as a softener for this request,
“Mum…I was wondering if I could have a party this year?’
Halfway between me thinking about it, and struggling to manage an overwhelming workload for my boss, I appear to have agreed. I warn my lovely neighbours, most of whom just laugh and say ‘where’s my invite?’ I stock up on snacks and beer. And, come party night, I head out for a meal, with one last fond look at my new cream sofa, leaving a nervous Small boy hopping about the empty hallway, wondering when his first guests might arrive.
I am back by 11, and the house is pulsating. I hear the party before I see it. And when I do open the door there are people … everywhere. In every room, on the stairs, in the garden. And…it is bloomin’ fantastic! Tipsy teens, I’ve known for years, greet me with affection and the intense conversations and rantings that only alcohol can inspire. There’s music and dancing, there’s singing, there’s even ‘beer pong’.
I party along for a while then, grab a couple of Peroni’s and head upstairs to locate my middle child, home from uni land for her siblings’ birthday celebrations. We sink our beers as she giggles through the party gossip. We pop down again to serve pizza and cake and listen to a raucous chorus of ‘Happy Birthday‘ as the clock strikes midnight and Small boy officially becomes ‘Birthday boy’ and thereafter, leave them to it. Most guests are gone by 1:30 am and I am asleep by 2.
The next day is a slow one for us all, but, on the plus side, I awake to find that the house had been tidied and so, after putting the hoover through its paces and vigorously mopping a very sticky kitchen floor, we are quickly back to normal. Which is just as well because a second birthday is now only 24 hours away.
Yes, my lovely eldest child, on hospital placement in Teesside, turns 21.
In honour of this landmark occasion, I leave work on time (for once), call in at home to collect Prom dress daughter, stop at the sixth-form college to pick up Small boy and then set the satnav for the North-East. We are there by 6:30 for present opening and then head out for a fantastic family meal at a local restaurant. It is huge fun; great food, great conversation and as for the shenanigans with our ‘affogato al cafe’, well my stomach still aches from the laughter.
All too soon, it is home time and its is a much quieter trip back along the A1 and M62.
Exhausting? Yes! Worth it… absolutely. Brilliant birthdays this year…
Smashing Single Parenthood 