After working late last night this morning’s nine o’clock start felt painfully early.
We all rushed around getting ready, except for Oliver. Oliver had an accidentally late night last night when he inadvertently forgot to go to bed after Lucy read his bedtime story to him. We discovered to all of our collective horror that he was still awake and in the middle of a perfectly thrilling epic Playstation battle when Mark and I came home from work just after four in the morning. Hence this morning he was sleepy and resigned to a weary day ahead.
We dropped him off at Harry’s house where he was due to spend the day, having all concluded that he would have no wish to spend the day in the back of the car being driven to York and back. This is not such a dreadful thing if we are travelling in the camper van, where he can bring his Playstation with him, and drink apple juice and massacre Jedi zombies all the way along the A66: but of course the poor camper van is still in lots of pieces in Mark’s shed waiting to see if he can mend a broken bit called the head, or if we will have to bite the bullet and shell out for some new bits. It is not easy to buy new bits for the camper van. It is almost forty years old now, was French registered in the first place, and they just laugh at Autoparts when you give them the registration number, which is the way they work out exactly what part it is that you need.
Anyway, we dropped a sleepy and regretful Oliver off at Harry’s and then carried on over to York with Lucy and an enormous boot full of luggage. Oliver has one bag and his tuck box when he goes to school, storage space in his dorm is limited and Matron sends strict instructions about permitted quantities of socks and underwear.
Lucy had several bags, an enormous trunk, a couple of extra boxes and her backpack, because you can never have too much choice of clothes and shoes, and of course there were twenty books she thought she would probably read during the term, and not forgetting her sketchpads and charcoal pencils and other important equipment. The boot burst open again before we got out of Windermere, and Mark had to get out and slam it shut again, which made him swear.
We had a late, happy lunch with Nan and Grandad, at the very nice pub just up the road from Lucy’s school, it is called the White Swan and the food is excellent. I am dreadfully fussy about eating out, and usually like to have a couple of reassuring noughts on the end of the bill so that I know that I am worth it, but the food in the White Swan is not only very reasonably priced, but also plentiful and magnificent, and lunches with Nan and Grandad are one of the highlights of our trips to and from school. Mark and Nan were driving, so Grandad and I had the alcohol, and got giggly and told amusing stories about poo, which made Lucy roll her eyes.
We had enormous lunches with pudding, which made us feel slightly uncomfortable on the drive home, and it was going dark when we left for school.
It took several trips through the pouring rain to unload the car, and we were all a bit damp and breathless by the time we had lugged everything up the stairs to her new dormitory, which we all thought was very nice, four beds and handy for the laundry. We were sad to say goodbye, but Lucy pointed out cheerfully that in her immediate future there were eggs, bacon and sausage for breakfast every day, a choice of cooked lunches, dinners and salads, full central heating and somebody else to do the laundry and washing up, which made her feel better and me feel relieved that my parental shortcomings were being redeemed. Her school has just won an award for having the best school food in the UK, and I have mostly fed her on Pot Noodles and toast over the holidays.
We were sad when we left her, and Mark suggested a cheering stop at Penhaligons for a new bluebell candle on the way back, which was kindly and a nice thing to do: but the house is so very empty without her.
It is so lovely to have the children at home. They are both so cheerful, and funny, and full of life. I miss them dreadfully when they are gone: but it is much better that they are doing what they are doing.
They would only get malnourished at home.
