One down

I feel as though I have spent most of the day driving Lucy back to school.

I didn’t, of course, but we worked late last night and then didn’t stir until eleven this morning, so proportionately it felt like a lot of day was involved.

Neither of the children are early risers, so they weren’t especially awake and waiting anxiously for breakfast, so we had a fairly leisurely cup of coffee in bed, and after a while both children appeared to get in with us. This started off as a civilised interaction, conversing cosily about school and holidays and general family things: but inevitably ended up in a fight, as these things always do: and after about twenty minutes it turned out that our first communal activity of the day was shrieking and beating each other up and pushing each other on to the floor whilst the dogs bounced about barking madly at all of us.

Eventually the children removed themselves to get dressed, and we all took the dogs for a gorgeous sunny wander around the Library Gardens. I wanted to go to the bistro and have pizza and red wine for breakfast then, but both the children objected, mostly on the grounds that they had enough of being sociable during weeks and weeks of boarding, but also pointing out self-righteously that I was supposed to be saving up for our trip to France, which was undeniably true. I was sorry not to go out and blow all our money on a self-indulgent drunken breakfast, because I love doing things like that, but later when we still had money I realised that it had been for the best.

So we went home for breakfast, and then the children watched films on their computers whilst we washed up, and then Mark had got to go to the farm to fix his car, which needed a new steering rack.

I stayed at home with the children until it was time to take Lucy back to school, and occupied myself very usefully in the meantime in paying bills and arguing with mobile phone companies and trying to rearrange insurance. This was not exactly satisfying, and could hardly be described as productive, it is not, for example, in the same league as making biscuits or painting the ceiling: but it is a necessity of life all the same, and I was pleased with myself when I had finished.

It was a lovely drive back to York, with clear skies and the most enormous rose-coloured full moon rising over the fields and the trees silhouetted on the horizon. This was because it is nearer to the world than usual tonight. I was driving and so thought it wiser not to photograph it to show you, but I persuaded Lucy to oblige, which she did, but she was in a hurry to get back to her earplugs, and so all the pictures are a bit blurry and taken through the dirty car window. The attached one is the best of the lot and in the end I had to include it because I didn’t have any others handy. The moon doesn’t look very enormous in the photograph either, so you will have to imagine that bit, but actually it looked quite astonishing when we looked at it.

I took Lucy back to school, which is always soothing, and we strolled together down oak-panelled corridors and looked at the portraits and the spectacular windows, and I thought it was a bit like Hogwarts, and Lucy thought I should get a life, but it is a beautiful school and if I had my life again I would go there, and gaze out of mullioned windows at herb gardens and tennis courts, and I would play lacrosse and have a spiffing time in the Lower Fourth.

They have just won an award for serving the best school meals in the country. I reminded Lucy of this good fortune, but she rolled her eyes and said that of course she knew, because everybody had gone on and on and on about it for weeks. Sometimes I think a week at an inner city comprehensive might be a surprising experience for her and encourage her to a suitably humble attitude of gratitude and appreciation towards her hard-working benevolent parents, but really I suppose she would just come back pregnant or something.

I hugged her and left her to her safe little world of prep and netball practice: and when I got back Mark and Oliver were standing silhouetted against the living room light, with their noses pressed to the windows looking for me.

Oliver goes back tomorrow.

One to go.