Categories: uncategorized
Date: 28 July 2008 08:38:58
[Cue John Inman* voice] I'm free! [/John Inman]
*For the sake of those too young or too distant to know who John Inman is, or rather "was", there was a delightfully non-PC comedy programme in the 70s called "Are you being served?" where the jokes were all double-entendres and one of the salesmen was an OTT-camp gay man whose catch-phrase was "I'm free!"
Love it or hate it, it was probably one of the best known programmes on television at the time.
Last Thursday, at the crack of dawn (an experience from which I am only just recovering), I drove my son to the ferry terminal. "One single child's ticket to Southampton Airport, please".
"Single? He's not coming back?"
"That's right. Single. Good, isn't it?"
"And you're not travelling with him?"
"That's right. One single child's ticket to the airport. Good, isn't it?"
And bag in hand, and somewhat nervous at doing the trip unaccompanied for the first time ever (because I'd got the dates wrong and thought I'd have already finished at school for the holidays by Thursday!), my eldest son set off on his great adventure and I, weeping, drove home for ten days without him. (Only one small untruth in that sentence. Can you guess which word it is?)
Last Friday, at the crack of dawn, (an experience from which I am only just recovering), I drove my son to the ferry terminal. Or rather, my friend Honorary Auntie M drove us there. "A return ticket to Bradford on Avon, please, and a single child's ticket."
"A return for you and only one way for the child?"
"Yes, that's right. Good, isn't it?"
"So you're coming back tomorrow and the child isn't coming back?"
"Yes, that's right. Good, isn't it?"
So I travelled with my youngest son, carrying an immensely large suitcase and a brightly wrapped hoe, to spend the night with my sister in Wiltshire. Then on Saturday my youngest son began his great adventure - five days staying with my sister and brother-in-law followed by a week at Scripture Union Camp near them, the longest he's ever been away from home without me - and I, weeping, travelled home alone for eleven days without him. (Only one small untruth in that sentence. Can you guess which word it is?)
The week of freedom is well spoken for, however, with a whole house to clean and tidy, his bedroom to sort, two Shakespeare plays to watch in the open air, plenty of dog walking (haven't done that for ages), paperwork to do, two assignments to write, some school work needing doing, and lots of coffee to drink with friends! ;o) But sitting here in my skimpy nightclothes (hee hee... no need to dress decently with no pubescent boys in the house!) and drinking coffee without interruption, and doing what I want when I want. Oh how I miss them!!! (pfah! Strangely, I am not one of those mothers who sits pining for her missing kids. Me? I love it!)