Our final days in the UK whirl by in a strange juxtaposition of socialising and admin. It’s oddly mind-scrambling. We travel to Islington for a delicious lunch at Kate’s new flat and the four of us, including Alex, take a walk along the pretty nearby canal. It buzzes with cafes, people and Sunday activity. It’s a joy to be with our precious children, doing nothing in particular, talking, sharing.
Coincidentally, it turns out that both of them will fly out of the country within a day of us: Kate to Romania and Alex to New York and somehow I’m reassured by that knowledge as if we’re not really leaving them behind. We spend Monday morning glued to our phones and computers and then prepare for the de Chazals to return from France which they do in a avalanche of greetings and hugs; the two Berkshire houses once more alive with the sounds of family life. Ten of us sit down to meals.
Then Adrian’s brother, Rick, and his wife, Mary, throw a family lunch party in Hawling. It’s a wonderful smorgasbord of deliciousness and there’s even a ‘Bon Voyage’ cake, baked by Mary and decorated by Amelie.
For some reason it’s all so unexpected. Neither Adrian or I have thought of this occasion as our farewell party and, as we blow out the candles, eight year old Elise echoes my thoughts. ‘You’ll have to go away for five years now!’ she says. Absolutely. I mean, such a wonderful send off needs to be justified by much more than one pathetic gap year!
Today, after a night with our brains on high alert, we stare stupidly at our computer screens while the ‘i’s and ‘t’s we’re supposedly taking care of look back at us like so many winking stick men. But, despite fog-filled heads, admin eventually gets done and we abandon ourselves to the brainless activities of running, eating and napping. The packing is easy, the drive to the airport taken care of by A’s sister and we feel so lucky and grateful to have the supporting network of family all around us. Our tour of the UK has come to an end. We’re finally going.
