She’s leaving home

Youngest daughter is leaving home tomorrow to live in London and it will be a sad day. Most of her possessions are here today but will be gone tomorrow. An empty bedroom and one less toothbrush in the bathroom. There is no rite of passage like marriage, university is over, she’ll just get on the train and that will be that. I understand of course. Who wants to stay in a Midlands market town with few attractions and poor employment prospects, of the kind she wants? If I was her age I would do the same. But that doesn’t make it any easier. It will be the first time for a long time that the house won’t be full of young people’s chatter. It will be tidy and there will always be plenty of hot water (why do they spend so long in the shower?). There will be no loose leads hanging from plug sockets. Nor odd trainers lurking under sofas. Or sleepy heads on the sofa, after a late night, covered in a throw mid-afternoon. But those are scant compensations for interesting conversations, volunteers to cook meals, constant smiley faces and weird films by unknown-to-us European directors to watch (ok I won’t miss those!). I can do without the unpredictability but will miss the spontaneity. I might have to take in lodgers (haven’t mentioned this to Stewart!)

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