Preparations are afoot in this household for our youngests’ emigration to the lights smoke high-rise of London. (Well – emigration is perhaps a little alarmist, but it is a distinct possibility). Tomorrow, before dawn even cracks, she’ll be making her way, burdened down by what would appear to be the clothes/things accumulated throughout her entire life, to a cold and grey airstrip outside Belfast (that is – she’ll be heading to Belfast International – but sure it’s always cold up there!!!).
Sassy, ambitious, grounded, capable, huffy – all of this will be heading south with her.
Cards have been arriving, wishing her well, regretting her leaving.
Over the past fortnight she herself has been making her mark at a series of leaving do’s – work/friends (group one)/friends (group two/family/friends (groups one and two) – you get the picture.
She has booked a pleasant little apartment (well – more a bijou bedsit, but very comfortable nevertheless) and will spend the weekend, with her mum, furnishing and painting it. Ready for a steady stream of visitors from home.
And then, come Monday – the new life will be starting. She’ll be alone.
Brand new job. Brand new bedsit. Brand new friends. Excitement. Adventure. Fun.
All as it should be for someone who works hard, tries hard and is determined. She has always been her own woman – even as a seven year old! She expects a lot of herself and deserves to do well.
But this house will certainly be quieter next week!