Friday, 18 September 2020

flown the nest

My eldest son Ben and his lovely partner should complete on the purchase of their first house today. 

In truth, he's actually long flown the nest; he came home for a year after finishing university whilst he took his teaching qualifications, but on completing his PGCE and landing a job as a secondary school science teacher, rented a flat down in Bristol and only really drifted home when he wanted something.

Like his mother to do his washing.

The drifts home have become less and less over the last few years, even more so after he hooked up with the French teacher at his school, I guess.

But I guess a mortgage and your first house is a real milestone. He's finally all grown up and moved out.

Maybe it's time I turned his old bedroom into a home office? That is, before his mum takes it over as yet another craft room . . .

The photo above was taken last month, somewhere between Plymouth and Falmouth. Those lovely, elegant birds are frequent company when on passage along the Cornish south coast, either swooping along and just skimming the waves, or circling gracefully above, before dive-bombing their unsuspecting lunch with sleek, lethal efficiency. 

So tomorrow Dad and I will head down to Bristol to help Ben and Hannah move house. Tomorrow evening I have a gig, conveniently also in Bristol. It'll be my second in as many weeks, but perhaps the last of the year, unless circumstances change unexpectedly. Then again, if we've learnt anything from this year so far, it's that you can't predict anything, so who knows?

Last Saturday's gig was brilliant, by the way. Everything I needed it to be. Except not enough.

Sunday I'm racing the Albacore with Amanda out on the lake at South Cerney. I was down there Wednesday evening, racing the Laser. That was fun, but the evenings are drawing in fast now, so mid-week sailing will soon be done until next year, and whatever that will bring.

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