Much of a muchness

One boy has gone back to university. I look around and the house is strangely quiet and even more strangely tidy. It feels peculiar but rather nice to be able to reclaim my pet spot on the sofa and watch a musical without a voice in my ear scoffing at the silliness and improbability of it all. ‘Yes, I know it’s unlikely they would ALL know the words to the song and the steps to the dance but just go with it, OK?’ I can munch a couple of rounds of toast and hummus for my supper instead of cooking a meal. My viewing isn’t interrupted by the sound of guitar music – how can you watch a film and play the guitar at the same time? The kitchen table isn’t covered with sheets of paper covered with sketches, boxes of pencils, felt pens, books, bits of cardboard, not to mention, clothes, and the plates and glasses left over from incessant snacks. The fridge is now empty, his favourite cartons of fruit smoothie (preferably Innocent mango and passionfruit) all drained before he left. There are no longer three pairs of shoes under the coffee table. I can get my car out without having to move his first. Peace and order rules.

Awful. Even the ducks on the river miss him.