Packed

I have underestimated the level of complexity.  Three young adult offspring leaving to travel abroad on the same day is no trivial whirlwind.  But I have foolishly arranged today two appointments to discuss teaching classics and the wind-up two projects at my oral history group. 

Well they have known for weeks they would be going away today – surely they will have packed.   I try to press on Perran and Carenza waterproof pouchs for valuables on the beach.  Also a snorkel and mask.  Carenza accepts, but Perran snorts,

“Why would I need that lot?”

“Because you’re going on a beach holiday?”

But there isn’t time to argue – I have to skid out the door. 

Next time I nip into the house, I have to search for:-

Nigel’s old moneybelt (Pascoe), a sarong (Carenza), and, worryingly, a European Health Insurance Card (Perran).

I find all of them – I must run an organised house after all! Hooray!

I jump back in my car.  Then I realise the twins will be gone by the time I return.  I get back out to give a kiss and a prayer for safety.

When I return later, there is just Pascoe. 

“I need a padlock for the hostel – do you have a spare one?”

“Nope.”  And I am gone again.

Back home after an evening church meeting, I pad about the silent house, trip over a rejected snorkel, and allow myself an exceptional midweek glass of wine. 

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