The school holidays are almost over, and if you are like me, you’ll have a mountain of holiday washing and grey, rain clouds to thwart any attempt to get it done.
My three children are ready to see their friends, and get back to the scheduled lifestyle we know and trust. As much as I love the school holidays; the getting up late and pleasing ourselves, after six weeks I begin to crave normal.
There is something strangely reassuring about a six-thirty alarm call, the scrum for the bathroom, and chatting with my kids over breakfast. I chase them all out of the door at eight and turn my mind to the jobs I have to do before three o’clock, and the evening routine.
There is one thing I’ve noticed more this summer, and that is the inability to find any quiet space. I hadn’t realised just how much I craved it. I was lucky enough to go to Italy this year where we trekked around Lake Garda. We rushed from ancient building to medieval castle, and then ‘relaxed’ with a crazy hour or two in the pool, followed by a beautiful meal in a bustling Italian piazza. It was a fabulous week, but it wasn’t quiet.