I am both delighted and terrified that two out of my three children are away on holiday without me having the time of their lives I hope. I kissed my teenage son goodbye at 6am this morning and watched him pile into a car with loads of other mates whooping and cheering like a band of young overly excited Silverback males.
It is hardly surprising that I now can’t afford to go on holiday with my children later in the summer. It has cost a fortune setting them up for their holidays. Even with a little bit of last minute panic from both of them to do some paid labour around the house “potatoes peeled? £5 per hour maybe?” or “car smeared, streaky and scratched for £15?”. No thanks. “Dump?”. “Clean room?”, “supermarket shopping?”. You know the stuff – everything I do for free every day. Good grief.
