We Cater for Pleasure

Not sure that I can blame recent hopelessness of diary-keeping entirely on school holidays, which children now seem to manage very well without noticeable maternal involvement – though do somehow still feel that normal life is On Hold until new term begins.

Have recently returned from second trip away with family; eschew more obviously teenage-friendly destinations in favour of remote cottage in North Yorkshire surrounded by sheep and cattle, and six miles from nearest shop, and am relieved that after surprisingly sunny week of walking, throwing stones in rivers and visiting Yves St Laurent exhibition holiday is pronounced Better Than We Thought It Would Be. Younger son fortunately avoids public use of what he fondly considers to be a Northern accent and confines his mimicry urge to rather unsettlingly accurate versions of my own musings on What Family Holidays Were Like When I Was Young.

Back home to find farmers already ploughing the fields, garden looking distinctly faded, and evenings undeniably Drawing In. Feel overwhelming desire to visit Dreamland.

End of Term

Long, long school term finally staggering to a close. Spend evening with husband and sons at school’s Sports Presentation Evening; undeniably thorough reports on every fixture of past academic year are fortunately interspersed with silly videos of teachers lip-syncing Troublemaker and endless puerile banter between PE staff, so do not feel entirely out of place.

Bump into childhood friend in queue for interval wine, and am rather taken aback to discover that she has recently become a grandmother; find it equally hard to picture friend’s mother (forever fixed in my mind as epitome of casual Seventies glamour) as a great-grandmother, and quite impossible to imagine myself now being of any use whatsoever if confronted with a small baby; but delighted that friend, daughter and not entirely planned granddaughter all seem to be Flourishing.

Have planned to go away for a few days tomorrow with family; weather prospects for Friday distinctly gloomy, and children showing tendency to mutter that they Just Want To Stay At Home And Relax, but nonetheless remain confident that a little adventure will do us all A Power Of Good.

Summer holiday

Usual mixture of excitement and pointless anxiety as make final preparations for start of annual family holiday tomorrow.   Fortunately, packing for fortnight abroad proves considerably less demanding than for two nights’ camping in England, and after filling own suitcase with too many books and not quite enough clothes, as usual, find I have plenty of time to check tickets, route-maps and passports – several times.  Dog despatched to kindly carer in nearby village, and house – despite presence of three children –  immediately feels rather empty.

Normal life and diary now suspended until last week in August, but will resume both in time for the Late Summer Horticultural Show.