I know it’s irrational. I know accidents are few and far between, and more injuries happen in the home than anywhere else, but I can’t help it. Coaches, travelling, peer pressure and teachers off their own territory. Terrifying.
They might still have a month left until the summer holidays, but my lot seem to be on school trips every week.
Jed’s already been to The Black Country Museum, and went to Thorpe Park last Friday. Thorpe Park, a blinkin’ theme park, with big roller-coasters. And it’s miles and miles away. He had to cycle to school alone at 7am. I couldn’t even be there to check the coach’s tyre pressures and smell the driver’s breath.
He groaned as I made him put on sun-cream before he left and failed to persuade him to wear a hat. He said the words no mother wants to hear: “Stop fussing Mum, you’re turning into Grandma.”
All day I was checking my mobile for messages. I gave in after lunch and sent a text while trying to be nonchalant: “How’s your day going?”
“Brill” came the eloquent reply. Eventually.
Next week Dougie’s off to Warwick Castle (high walls), then there’s Jed’s trip to London’s West End (at night, for goodness sake), Billy goes to Twycross Zoo (wild animals!) and Doug has a French day at Wicksteed Park (don’t even get me started). Jed’s the only one of them allowed a mobile phone. I’m going to be a nervous wreck. Thank goodness the day-trip to France was cancelled. . .