151. Peaceful weekend

Lockdown 1. The strict one. The weather is beautiful, pure summer. Blue sky, no clouds, hot sun, no wind. All the windows are opened. All the family is at home. I am still in baking mode and am making bread with my youngest child.

I can hear some serious banging. Not the usual banging of people running up the stairs but more like the banging of a hammer on a wall.

'Right! Baby, you carry on kneading and I'm going upstairs to see what these two sisters of yours are up to.'

So up the stairs I go. Sometimes I feel a bit like a policewoman. Keeping the streets in order. Getting to where there is trouble fast and trying to sort out the trouble in a peaceful manner. I need to get myself a cap and a water pistol. 👮 🔫 

I go up the stairs and as I reach the first landing I can hear a boy's voice (not my son's) shouting: 'One, two, one, two, and three and again, one, two, one, ... '

'What's going on up there?' I shout as I increase my speed up the second flight of stairs.

'Who's up here?' 

I am thinking how on earth could they smuggle a boy up there? Surely not. Not under my roof while I am on residence. These kids, totally unmanageable. I am now on the top floor and I forget about the boy.  I can smell something. I cannot place it. Not nail varnish, not nail-varnish remover ... 

But then I hear him again, the boy! Where is he? There definitely is a boy up here, no, not a boy ... a young man! With a deep voice. 

'Who's in there? And what's all this banging? We cannot even bake in peace downstairs!'

I open the door of Maths-Head's room and here she is, hanging on the ancient beam doing pull-ups ... and then jumping down to crouch and back up hanging on the beam. That beam has been there for over a hundred years I'm sure and only to have to experience this kind of antics! I feel sorry for it. I feel a pang of guilt too. What would Simone think of all this? There's a yoga mat on the floor below her and her telephone is propped up against the bookshelf.

'What's the panic attack about now, mum? We're doing our cross-training session, say hello to my friends.'

I look at the phone and I see all these tiny faces beaming at me and waving. I wave back, feeling foolish but only a little. 

'Karl's the coach. He has a broken leg.'

'Well, could you keep the volume down, Karl, please? The whole house can hear you, maybe the whole street! And don't bang so hard. Honestly this house is not going to survive this family staying in it.'

And I throw in a bit of advice.

'And can you make the exercices more yoga like? And less crazy cardio? Our house is ancient and it's shaking so much the bath water trembles.'

Then I add:

'And what is that smell?'

I get no reply so I plod on.

'Can you smell it? Any idea? It reminds me of something ...'

I sniff around like a police dog. 👮 🔫 🐕

'Oh! That's my big sister. Room at the end of corridor.'

Off I go down the corridor to the end room. 👮 🔫 🐕 🚓

Miss Organiser is obviously having a well-deserved break. Lying down on the floor, her feet up on the bed, music on (too loud), books, papers, clothes everywhere. Finally she notices me and says:

'Am having a break.'

'Really? I wasn't sure ... And what's that smell?'

She slowly waves her hand in the direction of the open window.

'That smell' she says, 'is the smell of dope smoke drifting from the   neighbours' garden into my room.' 

Dearie me! And she tells me this, just like this. I am her mother for goodness' sake! She's tapping her feet gently to the music and she has now a bright pink file and is doing her nails. Again the nonchalant wave of the hand. SHE DRIVES ME NUTS!

'DOPE?' I yell, trying to get her to see the seriousness of the situation. And fail. And yell again. 'DOPE?'

'Chill, mum! Yes. Dope ... Weed ... Pot ... Grass ...  You know, lockdown, the stress and all that ...' Again the nonchalant wave of the hand. SHE DRIVES ME NUTS! I frown at her just to make a point, and say just because I am her mother: 

'And please, get back to work, break is over.'

She lift her hand again and this time her fingers are up forming the V sign. I despair and go back down the stairs. I run outside into the garden, look up and see (an other) bunch of teenagers sitting at the window just about level with my daughter's. They are smoking and the light breeze carries a smell that is not just tobacco. I shout at them:

'Hey! You there! Yes, you, up there. Can you keep the noise down and close the window? We've got kids hard at studying for exams this side of the wall.'

As I am saying this I am hoping they don't get a view inside my daughter's bedroom. I frown for good measure but I am not sure this will have an effect from a distance with kids that are not even mine - and admittedly look quite a bit older than mine. I get a reaction though. They wave, cool sleepy waves of the hands and very obediently, they shut the window. Which leaves me standing there like an idiot, feeling useless, 👮 🔫 🐕 🚓 🚨 in the wrong place at the wrong time.

'Mum!' Someone's yelling from the kitchen. 'Finished kneading! What now?'