It’s Saturday. The washing machine and tumble dryer are rumbling away in the background. I’ve just made lunch for everybody – I expect I’ll be washing up behind everybody in a few minutes. I’m finally getting the chance to sit down – at 1pm – to write something – to do something for myself. I wonder how many people that are thinking about starting a family would continue with the idea if somebody such as myself sat opposite them, and told the truth about how the life you know will be reduced to filling the gaps around everything and everybody else?
Anyway – back to the title of the post – making plans.
On Friday morning I will be heading to the railway station with my eldest daughter to start the epic journey to Cornwall – to visit my parents for a few days. We should arrive in the early afternoon – considerably faster, less tiring, and less stressful than driving the two hundred and fifty mile route.
We will spend next weekend (weather permitting) walking the coast path, visiting seaside villages, eating ice creams, reading books in front of roaring fires, and probably sitting in quite a few pubs. We’re nearing the age where our eldest can drink in bars now – and we’re trying to normalise alcohol as quickly as possible. She’s had something of a trial-by-fire so far.
I probably pack remarkably light compared to most people when travelling – one of the dubious benefits of having travelled so frequently with work over the last several years. I don’t take any of the “just in case” things any more.
I wonder if our reserved train seats will be honoured? I have horrific memories of making the journey with our children when they were little, and finding other passengers in our seats – when I informed them, they told me there were people in their seats – and when I went to those people, there were people in their seats too. Madness.
The longest leg of the journey will take three hours, and wind its way along the south coast – hurtling over viaducts similar to those en-route to Hogwarts, and whistling past crashing waves, beaches, and piers as we draw closer to the south-west. In many ways you can feel the world slowing down as you become more distant from London, and the aptly named “rat race”.
You would never guess I’m looking forward to it, would you.