By: Blonde Two
Having recently spent time with all three of my offspring I can now admit to feeling my age a tad. Not necessarily physically but more in mental attitude.
Take my eldest, Bearded-Blonde for a case in point. He has just travelled home from Australia (and probably returned) in a more relaxed manner than I might adopt getting on a train to Newton Abbot (16 miles and no changes).
We picked him up very early one morning feeling a bit bleary eyed (us not him) after a 40 hour 9,000 mile journey (him not us) and he emerged from the coach wearing board shorts, an old t-shirt and flipflops (I really can’t call them ‘thongs’ but don’t mind the Kiwi equivalent of ‘jandals’). ‘It’s cold Mum!’ were almost his first words. Well yes, it was April and it wasn’t Australia! I thought he probably had something warmer to wear in his luggage so I suggested he fetched it from the driver. ‘Oh, this is my only bag,’ he responded indicating a small rucksack slung over his shoulder. It dawned on me then, not only was he wearing thongs/jandals/flipflops, but these were his only footwear.
You might imagine that this is something of a maternal criticism but it isn’t. I am in awe of his level of composure and lack of concern about travelling across the globe. I admire his chilled out (in this case literally) approach.
I think I might have had a bit of it too when I was younger. Whilst travelling in New Zealand when I was 19 I phoned my Mum and told her I wasn’t coming back because I was getting married. In my youthful thoughtlessness it didn’t occur to me that she would mind.
She did but was gracious enough not to tell me… and I didn’t… until I got back to England and married Mr B2 that is.