Separate ways

The day seems to have passed in a blur of things that needed to be done.

We were up early, because Mark had got to go and install broadband into some rural places, and we were halfway through our coffee when we discovered that the whole household had got up as well. 

This was unexpected, because we finished work a bit early last night in order to have a last glass of wine with Number Two Daughter before she left. The children were not in bed and came down to join us, and somehow it was almost two in the morning when we crawled sleepily into bed. 

We were not enthusiastic about starting the day, and surprised to see  that the rest of the family seemed to feel differently. It turned out that everybody had got things that needed doing, and it turned out to be a sort of sequel to the giggly event of the night before, but with sausage sandwiches instead of alcohol.

Mark went to work, and Oliver and I went to the bank. He had not paid his wages in over the summer holidays, and had had a misfortunate moment when he wanted to purchase some in-game something or other and discovered that his cash was all sitting uselessly in his wallet whilst his bank account was empty.

The bank had refused to accept that I was a fit and proper person to pay random cash into his account without a paying in slip or a debit card or a written letter of authorisation signed in triplicate from the Queen. This was because when he set up the bank account he and the bank manager made absolutely certain that it could not be accessed by me no matter what sort of a cash emergency I might be having. Hence this morning he had got to go in himself. 

We wanted to set up mobile banking and other handy cash-access devices. This involved not only a visit to the bank, but half an hour swearing and  peering in puzzlement at his mobile phone, followed by another visit to the bank. I had got fed up of it by then, so Number Two Daughter went and told them that she was his mother as well. They did not believe her in the least because of the girl behind the counter living at the other end of our street, but gave in for the sake of a quiet life and let her get on with it.

After that Number Two Daughter and I set up some travelling insurance, which we thought might be a handy thing to have when you are travelling. Then we printed out every piece of paper that we could possibly imagine might be useful. Emigrating to somewhere always involves a lot of paper. When we went to France we took three beehives full of bees with us. They all had to have passports as well. The customs declined to open the beehives to check them. 

I forgot to wash up, and left everywhere in a terrible mess, which was probably a surprise for Mark when he came home.

Then we said our farewells to Number Two Daughter and went our separate ways.

I took Lucy for another driving test, which I am sorry to say she failed again, this time because of some vague lack of roundabout-related ability.

There will always be a next time. We have promised to rearrange it for Christmas.

When we got back there was just time to empty the dogs before taking the children back to school. I rang Lucy’s school up afterwards and grumbled about her bedroom being cold, because they have not turned the heating on yet. They emailed me later to tell me that they have supplied her with an oil heater and an extra duvet, which will probably have surprised her, I expect she will be sweltering by bedtime.

We are on the taxi rank now. There is just Mark and me.

There are no children at home any more. We have all turned our faces away from one another and set off on our own private journeys again, all living our own lives, apart from one another.

I feel terribly sad about this. They are sticky and messy and costly and need a great deal of feeding, but I like having them about, and now they are all gone.

I hope they are all having brilliant lives and come back with lots of stories to tell.