The school bus is away, but it will return again all too soon. I have my instructions, chicken curry and naan bread, ready at lunchtime. Between now and then all the usual chores around house and office, at bank and post or wherever else have to be done; a cycle too perhaps.
For after that, and until 13 August not that we’re counting, two little urchins have to be cajoled and tempted, bribed and whined. Any my regime has to change. Solitary cycles will have to be pre-breakfast, and that in itself means they need to be short ones, just as the muscles for the hills were getting into shape. We may get the chance to cycle together, though that will inevitably mean that one zooms up ahead and the other lags slowly behind. Which is where you may find one modelling the latest in lycra gear. I’ll need to have a word about recumbents – we need that slogan across the belly.
We could have trips to the park, walks in the woods, rambles by the burn, and picnics in the saddle bags. I’m determined that school holidays will not mean seven weeks of games consoles and television. And I’m equally determined not to put up with protests every time I mention that we need to head to the shops, or the post office.
Each little outing becomes a major expedition when three have to go where one wants. Pushing a trolley round the nearest discounter becomes stressful, though they do have boxes of three pistachio ice-creams if we happen to be good. From this rural idyll simple things like banking or getting milk invariably mean being out for up to an hour and a half. It’s a chunk out of the day, plans are needed.
For the next few weeks the house will ring with laughter, and squabbling. Footballs will be banged against walls; swings will creak and squeal if ever I can get the rusted bolts loose to replace broken ropes. The library’s Summer Reading programme will get a thrashing. And bags will be packed for the annual trip away and two weeks of whatever the weather has in store.
And amongst it all work has to go on, the daily regime dictated by the whims of the postie, the phone ringing and the incessant pinging of the inbox. And if that call isn’t answered, the email gets no response, or the cheque isn’t in the post, then be patient. For School’s Out, and I’ve other things to do.
For another school year has come to an end, already; perfect attendance once again; stonking report cards; happy urchins doing well.
Let’s get the bikes out children. Oh for goodness sake switch off that wii… Lunch, what do you mean you want lunch; I’m not used to making lunch…