In other words, it’s all downhill from here.

Bernard and I are all packed, nearly ready to go. I have a bag full of snacks, anticipating four hours in the car with “I’m soooooo hungry.” I have a bag full of knitting, for long evenings in the stuffy sitting room with the interrogation lamp (they haven’t come across the concept of mood lighting). I have a bag full of laptop, so I can pretend I have to work. Bernard has a bag full of toys, so that I can resist his demands to go to the beach for longer.

My ankle has put in a few extra twinges to remind me of the potential misery of a four hour drive, and I have started sneezing, because we never go to Armpit without at least one of us having a cold, which might finish my frail stepdad off. I have packed my winter clothes, although the sun is out here in Commuterville. Bernard was up at the crack of dawn, AND DRESSED. He is looking forward to going to the seaside and seeing his granny. Ah to wear the rose tinted spectacles of childhood.