Sunday, 20 October 2013


It’s not often that M and I ‘go out’. But when we do, we get pissed. (I say pissed, there are, of course, varying degrees of enjoying wine with dinner and, being a couple of stone lighter than M, I get ‘more’ out of the Merlot than he does.) Anyhow, because of my propensity of trying a new (hell, any) good wine/M’s weakness for a guest ale, we know this will happen and we don’t venture far, so that we can tumble home, full on rump steak. Last Friday was no exception and we spent a lovely evening together at a table for two, discussing children, work (but only the juicy parts), other children and, just on the right side of pissed-ness, a political discussion* on selective/non-selective schooling, pros and cons thereof and it was silently noted how much more lefty I get after my third glass of wine.
Always the responsible parent (!) I had phoned my boys and checked that they were going to catch the last bus home. (Not Max, as he was tucked up safely with his dad). Teenage assurances that they’d come home before 11pm, I relaxed and tucked in to my cassoulet.
So, reasonably priced and surprisingly tasty dinner eaten, wine bottle and pint glass empty and a Bailey’s liquor that was served in a half pint pot - I kid you not - M made his move by tempting me back home with the promise of a family bag of Minstrels, which he seductively called ‘pudding’. Well, what girl can refuse that?  So we started pulling on coats and bracing ourselves for cold walk back along the A260 when M quipped ‘Luke’s insured to drive your car, you know’.  
And you just know that I had my eldest son on speed dial before M could change his mind.  And there we were, in a car park, waiting for my SON to collect us and take us safely home.  And to be honest, I don’t know who was more shocked, me or him. Anyhow, about 20 minutes went by and I got slightly concerned, bearing in mind that we live about a mile away, if that. So I called Luke to make sure that he hadn’t stacked my lovely little 107 into a lamp post or wedged it onto a roundabout, or indeed, took it to Halfords carpark to perform a few donuts. To my surprise and humour Ellis answered, stating that they were on their way (!)
So this was a first, for my son, for me, for us as a family. After a very difficult couple of weeks, and in an instant, we were a little family in that tiny car, laughing together, sharing a first, glorious memory:
                                               Ellis says:  "How cool is this?"
*Ok, it was so not a discussion, I just blasted my opinion at my dinner companion and he gave up trying to interject about one minute in. Public apologies. 

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