I’ve just returned home, having dropped my son off at the station to catch his train to Leicester – he’s going to the Summer Sundae festival at de Montfort university.
Odd, isn’t it, how different home feels when someone has left and will not return for a while. At this time of the day he would normally be at work. And he’s often out in the evenings. But it feels emptier here without him.
It looks emptier too, in a good way. I went shopping yesterday for food for him – he’ll buy there of course, but he likes to do some of his own cooking. So the kitchen table has been full of stuff that is quick to do on a camping stove, mainly based on quick-cook noodles and couscous, plus nuts, seeds, dried fruits. He probably won’t be able to keep up his usual intake of fresh fruit and vegetables, but that doesn’t mean he intends to come home too much unhealthier than he left. I did provide some Pringles (the boxes won’t be easily crushed) and a box of red wine as I think that some bad habits are essential in life.
Anyway, a rare couple of nights alone for the Sage and I, before another family influx at the weekend. And to think, four years ago, that we were resolutely preparing for empty-nestdom.