A couple of months ago I was talking to my other half about how we might use the mountain of holiday I had accrued at work, and she suggested I visit my parents. They live on the coast, and we try to visit at least once a year as a family, but hate “landing ourselves” on them, so I’ve gone on my own a couple of times in-between too. There was only one problem - we were still in the middle of the school holidays, and train tickets were impossible to come by - so the idea got shelved until “later in the year”.
This week a notification popped up in my phone from an online community both myself and my Dad are members of about their next “meet-up”, and I started checking my work calendar. After checking with my other half, checking with work, and checking with my parents too, I booked the time off, and the train tickets.
So - I’m heading to deepest, darkest Cornwall this coming weekend - travelling down on Friday, and returning on Monday. A few days to spend time with my parents, listen to their latest escapades, and hopefully slow down a little bit. I’ll pack clothes tomorrow evening - I can’t imagine I’ll need to take much with me. That said, I’m already filling the Amazon tablet with magazines to pass the time on the train.
I have a particular skill in booking seats on trains and planes next to crazy people. It’s probably related to the “Truman Show” effect I often seem to have on the world. Perhaps the crazy people are skilled extras in the “Jonathan Show”.
Tomorrow afternoon I’m accompanying my eldest daughter to the opticians for an eye-test. She wore glasses when she was young and probably still should but hasn’t for the last several years. Hopefully the inevitable prescription she ends up with will result in not too much dithering over choice of frames.
I accompanied my youngest to the same optician earlier in the week - after discovering quite by chance how bad her eyes have become. While sitting in the departure lounge of the airport to return home from holiday she mentioned that she couldn’t read the departure board. I handed her my glasses, and she said “oh, that’s much better!”. Oh dear. She picks her glasses up next week.
In the space of a few months we’ve gone from one person wearing glasses all the time at home (my other half) to four out of five of us. It’s funny how that kind of thing works. We warned my middle daughter at dinner last night that her eyes are on borrowed time. She smiled.
Anyway.
It’s getting late. I should think about collapsing into bed. One more day, and then a long weekend away. One more day.