99. That holiday feeling (1/3)

 Holidays are here! Hurray! 

Work has been so weird: that feeling of being in a sci-fi series constantly pressing on me. 

I am so relieved that I do nothing on day 1. It's lucky my day 1 is day zero for everyone else so it is just me and the dog at home. And we do nothing. The dog is well practiced at that but still, I don't need coaching. And I am not in the least ashamed to say I had a wonderful day. I actually enjoy doing absolutely nothing.

Day 1 is the first day of the week-end. Still it is good to think this is a holiday weekend. I go to the market, I do quite a lot of food shopping: I still have to get rid of my lockdown stock of dry goods. 

I get home. I am barely in the door that I am told to rush at table as lunch is ready. 

'Poached eggs don't wait. Have you got fresh bread?' aks my husband. 

'I do.' I reply, pleased with my organising skills. 'Have you got the chilled wine?'

Yes, he has. He lifts the glass in my direction.

'Cheers! To holidays!'

Lunch is lovely and peaceful. But before it is over we hear a loud bang. The front door. Someone's home for the holidays. We think it is Tornado-girl but it is indeed Miss Organiser who turns out to be very disorganised indeed.

'Am hungry! Haven't had lunch! And I need to pack! Can you leave some lunch for me?'

'Pack? But you're just in the door!'

She gets annoyed, much to our surprise.

'You parents just don't listen to anything I tell you! I'm going camping. it's been on the calendar for weeks!'

'Camping?' I say quietly, looking at my husband. Did I hear right? I mean, I thought it was October. This sci-fi series thing is seriously getting to my head. 

Bang. Clash. Boing. Clatter clatter clatter. Miss Organiser is attempting the stairs dragging a suitcase, a backpack, a handbag, and packages that look like bundles of blankets. Camping in October gear?

'Coffee?'

'Yes, please.' After all, life has to carry on as normal.

Coffee not even finished that the racket in the stairs starts again. This time she is coming back down with a whole lot of bags and packages but even I can tell there are a different set. I am making a mental note NOT to go to the top floor in any circumstances. I guess it must look like an assault course Level 5 up there right now.

'You're going camping?' I say forcing on the surprised tone.

She bites right away.

'You parents are so annoying! Don't you ever listen to me at all?'

We just sit, a silly grin on our faces.

'Oh right! Yes, that's right! The calendar! Bye, have fun!'

She takes a bite to eat as she is standing there, rucksack on, and at the same time she is shoving items of food in her pockets.

I look at my husband as if to say: just go with the flow, you can't go against it anyway. He has a tiny twitch of the eyebrow that means I am right.

'Oh! And I need the car!'She says, mouth full of food.

'Oh! Yes! Sure! ... I mean, we don't ever need the car, do we?'I turn to my husband.

'Mum! You are so annoying!' And she leaves.

She has trouble getting through the door carrying it all in a oner and her dramatic exit is spoiled a bit. Finally the door closes behind her. We hear more shouts and more doors banging as the car gets loaded and then, reassuringly the car starts and she's off.

On cue, our son enters the room. after the sci-fi series feeling I have now stage fright. I must be the main character in a play but I don't know my lines. It turns out I don't have a line to say. Still, it triggers anxiety feelings in me. Maybe I am a bit of a control freak.

'I'm off.'

My husband knows his lines, I look at him full of admiration. How does he do it? It must be a rugby thing, a match maybe? Is it rugby season? Is there a season for sports? This is getting awfully complicated. Suddenly I jump as the front door bangs again. The walls shake too; I am sure I saw the lights flicker briefly. 

Silence again descends on the family home. I need an other coffee. Or wine maybe.

'Mum! Can I have 22 Euros please?' I'm late!'

What now? Baby of the family asking for money! 22 Euros! That's a huge sum for a baby! I look at my husband who, this time I am pleased to say, looks completely lost.

'What's this about?' He asks. Except I don't have a clue, something else I must have forgotten. I should get up and check the family calendar but instead I go and find 22 Euros.

'You're just going to give her 22 Euros just like that? Even if you do not know what it's for?'

'No! No! Of course not!' I play the offended. 'I'm going to ask her first.'

But our baby daughter has heard that and is a copy-cat of her big sister.

'You parents just don't listen to anything I tell you! I've got a tennis tournament! It's been on the calendar for weeks! You guys are SO ANNOYING!'

'Hey! Hold it there young lady! If you want us to pay for it change your tune please.'

She humphs and grumbles and mutters things not for our ears and exits. Bang goes the door. Flicker goes the lights. Only the dust settles quietly on the old wooden stairs.

'How long have they got?' My husband wants to know.