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.
