Categories: uncategorized
Date: 24 August 2006 18:32:30
I think the latter loomed larger in little Miff and friends minds than collecting their GCSE results ; though only just. So this morning the bathroom rota ran as follows: 3.45-4.15 - Ms Miff who was self-appointed chauffeur of friends' bits and pieces before they all set off to catch the milk train - the better to get a prime camping spot. She was followed by Yours Truly before setting off for work (whoopee! I DON'T think). On my return the menfolk had been battling it out and little Miff was hovering anxiously in the kitchen; all his equipment: sleeping bags, tent, massive rucksack, a thousand toilet rolls (you can never have too many toilet rolls says his big sister, a Reading veteran) and probably Tesco's entire stock of baby wipes draped artistically over the hallway.
Then it was Mr Miff's turn to look pale and interesting until we got the phone call from offspring. Correction - being every thrifty in matters of phone credit, we got the phone call asking us to return the phone call. Then enused a few minutes of chasing each other's voice mail before young Miff finally appeared to give us the glad news that he'd got 4 B grades, 5 A s and one A* ##! Thrillls all round. By now our front room seems full of huge young men and even huger rucksacks earnestly discussing such important matters as who shares whose tent, whether they have enough toilet rolls, oh...and (nearly forgot!) exam results. Much wondering about train times, and tardy friends from other schools who were inconsideratly releasing the results half an hour later than theirs.
Mum looks up train times. Huge young men subside onto sofa. Decide they have enough time for a quick trip down to the local newsagent to stock up on sweets. Leave Mum mounting guard over the camping equipment so that Miffdog doesn't eat their toilet rolls.
Finally... and after much adjusting of straps and wondering where to cram extra mugs, bedrolls, pairs of huge wellington boots (another essential) and....toilet paper, they squeeze their way out of our front door and clank their way off towards the station.
All of a sudden the house seems far too quiet...