Gah. Why is it that all those brilliant ideas you had for blog posts vanish as soon as you manage to get half an hour’s peace? It’s weird. I had so many things to say that would set the Internet on fire with their amazing insight. Now I don’t.
In the absence of anything wiser, I’ll ramble for a bit. The mental equivalent of finally realising that groping in the dark handbag bowels will not find the thing you so urgently need and the only thing for it is to upend it. Among the train tickets, tired tampons, grotty tissues, mysterious pills, Lego bricks and crumbs will be the missing treasure. Or so you hope.
The big boys are back today and I can’t wait to see them. TThereis a reasonably predictable pattern that says it’ll be wonderful for about five minutes then my brain – temporarily unaccustamed to sustaining three conversations at once – struggles with all the inbound information. And the noise and mess. And the eye rolls. And the sighs.
We’ve spent a few weeks as a single-child family – a very different experience. I wonder if Boy Three will show only-child characteristics as well as youngest-of-three ones.
School looms again. I know – already. It’s about now I start to make lists but this year, for a change, I’m probably not going to bother. The big boys know what they should wear and I have asked if anything significant is missing. And I’ve got shoes for Smallest and we have uniform already.
Work is busy and varied – railway operators, accountancy organisations, international children’s charities, yoga centres and business consultancies are keeping me slightly more than occupied. But then boredom would be a miserable thing.
Yesterday was the seventh anniversary of my brother’s death. Seven years and the missing is always there. No longer in that newly flayed way, but a constant in the same way a prominent scar might be. At the festival, I kept thinking how much fun he’d have had there. The special – and slightly scary – element he’d have brought to Supergran’s forthcoming 75th birthday ceilidh. Of how much he’d laugh at us all. But he’s gone and we must get on with it. I suppose anniversaries allow us to have a little poke at the sore bits again.
That was yesterday. Today, all my chicks – and their dirty laundry – are back in the nest again for a day or so before a couple of them go off to camps and the exam results arrive.