My eldest daughter leaves for university. I am supposed to suffer from empty nest
syndrome. But actually the nest is far
from empty; it is still full of all the rubbish she was told to clear out a
month ago.
She is hoping that the Tidying-Up Pixies will visit whilst
she’s busy pretending to do a degree.
Personally I would rather it were the Environmental Health Pixies. They will need industrial tools to deal with
some of this mess.
I have been led to believe that Proper Mothers hold their
children’s hands all the way to their first hall of residence, and make their
beds for them and leave home-baked goodies and freshly-laundered clothes before
waving a tearful goodbye. The reality,
in our family, is that I am off doing CIPA-related things on the day she leaves;
that she will do her own laundry like she always does, or if she doesn’t then
she will smell and make no friends; and that I know there is no point making
the bed because she will only go and sleep in it and if the bed-linen has to
last a whole term it is probably better left in its packaging. I do however send her off with a tub of
home-made slightly-burnt granola, which is just about all I know how to
make.
Anyway she will be staying within ten minutes’ walk of Paddington
station. She thinks this may be good
because when I come to London on CIPA business I will be able to call in and
take her out for dinner. What she
doesn’t know is that I will be calling in and asking to kip on her floor
instead of in a cheapskate CIPA-sanctioned hotel with a pocket-sized bar of
soap and a bedroom only just big enough to hold it.
I suspect Proper Mothers do not ask to kip on their
daughters’ floors for the night. And I
confess to being a tad worried about what I will find there. Slightly-burnt granola, for a start.
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