Saturday, 1 February 2014


We were near Oxford today, but failed to call in on Carenza. 
Oxford’s not much more than an hour from where we live and we have good friends there so it’s on our “flightpath”. 
When I went to university, aged eighteen, the journey took me seven hours, Nigel , around six.  We were secure in the knowledge that our parents would never turn up unexpectedly, and in my case, never at all.  We might have been colonising the moon for all we saw of our families.
We wallowed in what felt like an outrageous degree of independence and freedom.  I rang home once a week, Nigel once a term.   Since we were the eldest, both sets of parents had our younger siblings still at home to fuss over so there was no guilt.  
With Pascoe, Perran and Carenza, I often feel that I would like to see them, but I also know that what they need is time away from us.
So, as we drove past the end of the road where Carenza lives, we both waved, and shouted “Hello Carenza,” but we thought we’d allow her some space.

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