Looking forward to our mother and son road trip at the weekend. We are visiting my parents in Cornwall and then on to Bristol where there is a subject open day. Perran isn’t yet sure where he would like to study Philosophy and Maths next year and decision time is approaching fast. This trip could be the key.
At the moment he is a little taciturn after a weekend of partying. I try to raise some anticipation:
“What we should take with us on our trip?”
He looks at me as if I am mad – “Car, clothes, cereal bars,” he says.
“Rubber dinghy, snowboards?” I ask.
“I guess that would weather proof us.”
I hadn’t thought of that – I was just being silly. But if there’s yet another bout of what the weatherman calls “disruptive snow” (do the flakes whirl down jeering and punching each other?) it’s possible we might not get there. I had pictured a stroll through Clifton and the water front in early spring sunshine. I hope we don’t arrive to some LS Lowry type scene of matchstick student figures striving through grey slush. Plus I am a coward about driving in snow.
“It’ll be alright,” he says.