Tuesday, 8 October 2013


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I had to go to PGCE lectures yesterday, which meant that it was Nigel and Pascoe who drove Carenza and all her goods and chattles to Oxford.   I wasn’t there to help her settle in, hang up her clothes, shove stuff under her bed.  And now I have no mental picture of her in her room . 
However, being the parent who does the drop off is not an easy option either.  Almost before you have heaved the last box up the stairs, other freshers are hanging round ready to chat, and you soon feel in the way.  Quickly you deposit that final fatal crate and depart, still doubled-up, to phone your chiropractor for an appointment.
Last night, as I rubbed ointment into Nigel’s lower back, I was, on balance, pleased not to have been the one to deliver Carenza to Oxford. 
Anyway, there’s something about the webcam that always makes a college room look so much larger when you see it on Skype than in real life, so as long as I don’t visit her, as far as I’m concerned, Carenza will be living in a palace.

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