Hard Nose

Perran and Carenza got back from Tenerife at 3:30 am on Thursday, Pascoe returned from Florence at 4am Friday. 

Meanwhile, I am undertaking the London Summer School in Classics.  By the end of a day of language classes, I am tired and have discovered in myself a new Hard-Nosed Attitude.  Despite hefty hints from Nigel, I did not sit up for the children, nor did I pick them up from airports in the small hours.  Instead, I allowed them to exercise their independence and return under their own steam. 

I did feel a little guilty when at 6.45 the next morning Nigel did a tip-toed tour of the bedrooms checking for the slumbering hillocks in the bedclothes that would prove our kids had made it home safely. 

But by Friday morning the number of sleeping lumps = 3, not <3 which would have been worrying nor >3, which would have provoked questions.

By the time I got home on Thursday night, Perran had cleared most of the Tenerife washing.

By the time I got in on Friday, Pascoe and Carenza had battered some chickpeas into submission and made dinner.

I’m beginning to think I quite like being hard-nosed.  My course ends next Thursday – is it worth carrying my book bag into London for a few days more after that so I can convince the children that I’m still in need of their support?

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