The boy was away this weekend at his first cadet camp. Excitement had been high in the week running up to it, but that didn't mean that he thought to make sure that we had everything that was on his kit list. The net result was a last minute Friday night dash to Waitrose on the way to meet the prodigal uncle for a a celebratory meal at Buckhurst Hil's finest (and actually one of the UK's) Indian restaurants.
This gave me a free weekend. Personal space and time. Hurrah. So what wild things did I get up to? A salacious time at Brighton's seediest night clubs? The chance to catch up with much missed friends, or even family? A gorgeous meal at a great restaurant?
Erm, well no. I headed to Ikea (oh no, not again) to pick up a couple of things (actually, is it possible to ever get out of Ikea with a bill of less than £200...I've never ever achieved that, often picking up stuff that's really not really not needed). After that I headed down to the flat by the sea, achieving precisely nothing all weekend...at least it was a warm and sunny time to do nothing very much on the coast.
I've been planning for when at some stage the boy would fly the nest...university was my target date (and as I've mentioned to him on one or two or several dozen occasions, when he leaves for higher education that is the time that I stop the real job, climb on the, as yet phantom motorcycle, and spread my own wings). And I've also known that as he heads through his teenage years, my role would increasingly be reduced to taxi driver and funds provider. But I hadn't really realised that at the tender age of 13, he would not be around all the time. So this is an unexpected bonus...but I need to change my mindset slightly, open up that little black book of mine and renew old friendships...as well as gallop into a whole set of new ones. Hurrah!
After all I have no intention of spending my middle years watching endless repeats on TV, wearing a hole in the carpet in front of the sofa!
