This is a short entry because it is half past two in the morning.
I am in the camper van and we are driving home through the misty dark over the high fells.
We have been to collect Oliver from his skiing extravaganza, and to drop Lucy at school.
Of course we worked last night, which meant that when we got up this morning we had only had a few hours sleep.
After we had done all the usual morning things, we dragged Lucy’s trunks down from the loft and stacked them in the camper van.
The dogs knew that she was going and were sad. They have seen enough tennis racquets and tuck boxes to know that tomorrow there will be no warm patient girl upstairs, who doesn’t mind a little dog curling up under her quilt with her. They milled about miserably, getting under everybody’s feet until we shouted at them, and finally the van was packed and the dogs allowed to jump in after her, and we set off.
We went to Oliver’s school. We had hardly been there any time at all when the coaches full of sunburned boys arrived, earlier than planned, waving and bouncing, apart from the two or three broken ones, who had to clatter off carefully, on crutches.
Oliver was not on crutches. He was freckled and grinning and exhausted and filthy. He agreed that he had had a brilliant time, and could ski down red runs, and that he had eaten loads and been warm enough and that yes, perhaps a shower would be a good idea.
He sat with us in the front for a little while as we headed for Lucy’s school, and then retired to bed in the back to watch Youtube and to doze.
We did not go straight to school. We went to the pub, where we met Nan and Grandad for a large and convivial teatime sort of breakfast, due to our peculiar sleeping and eating patterns. It was the sort with red wine. We had compensated for this deficiency by eating half a tin of jelly babies on the way down, but nevertheless it was breakfast, and we wolfed it down like starving gypsies.
After saying a contentedly rotund farewell to Nan and Grandad, we waddled back to the camper van and took Lucy back to school.
It is horribly sad to say goodbye. I hate losing the children when they go. They love school, and it looks after them much better than I do, think of balanced diets and exercise and fresh air and early nights: but I miss them all the same.
We left her there, and the dogs crawled unhappily into their cave under the bed to mourn her absence.
We drove to the nearest lay-by and fell asleep.
We sat an alarm, but nobody heard it.
When we woke up it was long after midnight. Mark has got to go to work in the morning, so we could not just stay where we were.
We pulled ourselves together wearily and set off.
We are still driving as I write.
We are looking forward to home, and to bed.
Sometimes this can be a very disorientating way of living life.
Ah well. Nearly back.
LATER NOTE: Home. It is half past four. Goodnight.
