Children, even 19 year olds, sometimes need their parents…
Even when children are grown up and far away they sometimes need their parents. Daughter one is on holiday in Italy. About an hour after she departed, I discovered she had left behind her make-up bag stuffed full of her glasses and contact lenses. She could get to the holiday, but she wasn’t going to see much of it. I was going into London so I decided I could find a DHL and send it off to her and save the day. The first DHL I went to said it would cost 76 pounds. I texted daughter one. How much did she want to enjoy her sightseeing?
I mentioned that I could probably get to Italy and back for 76 pounds and that I had seen it considerably cheaper online. The DHL man told me that was only available from Rymans on the other side of London. I tracked down the Rymans and posted the package. Job done. Daughter one should get it by the next day and be eternally in my debt.
It’s been a week now and she still hasn’t got the glasses. It has been a sorry saga. DHL rang me two days later to say they had tried to deliver, but daughter one was not in and her mobile number seemed wrong. I rang her. No reply. I texted her the address of DHL in Sardinia and told her to get herself over there. Time passed. I kept checking my phone for a picture of her in her specs eating spaghetti. Nothing.
DHL rang again. Did I have another phone number for her? I took the number of DHL in Sardinia and said I’d get daughter one to contact them. I rang her. Nothing. “WAKE UP!”, I texed daughter one, followed by “Get your phone off airplane mode”. It was midday. She texted back indignantly. “I am awake.” It turned out that she had waited in for two days for the package, had received no calls from DHL and had called a taxi to take her to the DHL office which never turned up. I was just about to blame the DHL office when I asked if she had got a missed call from me. “No, nothing,” she said. “I think there may be a problem with your phone,” I replied. It turned out it had been playing up for several weeks. Hmm.
Daughter one has since rung DHL and they will be delivering the glasses just in time for her flight home.
Meanwhile, while she has been away her brother has learned to cook roast chicken, pancakes and pasta and has decided he is now a master chef. He is planning to open a ‘family restaurant’ imminently in a bid to raise money to buy a Nintendo Switch. He woke up on Sunday and said, and I quote, “I just want you to be happy, mum.” Pause. “And a Nintendo Switch.”
Only son has spent the last day ‘laminating’ menus [basically covering A4 paper in sellotape]. On the menu: roast chicken, pancakes with nutella and pasta and milk. Slightly limited, but he thinks he’s on to a winner. By the time daughter one gets home he will be on his way to his first million and will be able to serve her up a four-course dinner. And the good news is that she will be able to see it all in perfect detail.