It’s late on Sunday night, and I find myself in Leeds once more. In months past I would have described the journey herethrough London, and northwardas some kind of enormous adventure. It says something that I have learned enough about the journey now to make the entire thing unremarkable. Even packing the bags (which I did on Thursday night) has become routinenormal.
The normality of it all scares me. Even the hotel staff recognised me on arrival. There was no pre-amblejust the handing over of pre-done paperwork, along with hotel room keys.
This morning I was stood next to a rugby pitch, watching Miss 10 run herself ragged. Tonight I am 300 miles away, sitting alone in a hotel. I’m not very happy about that.
I took a photo of Miss 10 in the rugby club clubhouse eating chips after practice this morning, and had an awakening moment that parents have from time to timethat she is changing in front of our eyes. For years she has been a constant in our livesshe hasn’t really changed since she was a toddlerand yet suddenly puberty has arrived, and she is changing quickly. Her face is changing shape. The puppy fat is falling away, and she is getting taller in a hurry. Her moods and emotions are “volcanic” would be a good word. Luckily we realised early on, and have given an extra yard when we have it to give.
Judging by the injustice of the world surrounding Miss 8 (soon to be 9), her arrival at puberty will see a series of mushroom clouds plume over the town, with utter devastation below them.
The hotel room is absolutely identical to the rooms I have had over the last few visitsapart from this one smelling of cigarette smoke, even though I stipulated a non-smoking room. I considered asking for a change of rooms, but it’s not that badbut probably worth noting for anybody that reads this that does smoke. The last person that had this room was probably in it yesterdayand it still smells today even after the staff cleaned it top to bottom, and opened the windows all day. My clothes will of course now smell faintly of cigarettes too. I wish hotels would ban smoking entirely.
While waiting on a platform for a train earlier, I started thinking about putting feelers out to find bloggers in or near Leeds, to meet up on the evenings this week. I’m still not sure if I’ll do it or notwhen I stayed in York I tried, and got nowhere. Putting yourself out there to be trusted, and approached, is hard.