  Empty Nest Well. It's finally happened. The Boy has left on his Spanish Holiday. Paid for and generally organised by him. The house is quiet. No supper is being prepared in a hurry, because he has forgotten to tell me he is working toninght.
M is still at work, slaving away on an 80 page document that my team have given her for emergency publication. The Boy has gone to the Costa Brava with his mate Megan. He's had plenty of practice at foreign holidays. Me and him have travelled from Helsinki to Teignmouth by overland public transport (I got one more passport stamp than him, somehow. I can still get "wind-up" mileage out of that). We have travelled Spain and Morocco together.
We have had holidays in Greece and Turkey and France with M. This time, though, he is on his own. Him and his mate Megs are in charge. They arranged a lift to Gatwick with her brother because it was cheaper than the train (especially as I seem to be collecting the fuel cost), and this morning they went. The only nod to adult support is that my dad is, hopefully, collecting them from Gatwick next Tuesday. At midnight. (Thanks, dad).
They are probably touching down at Girona at this minute. I have bought that Boy up, in the absence of his mother, since he was 9 months old (with the help of Au Pair X4, M#1 (harumph) and the wonderful M#2). One hour after he was presumed to have left the house, I checked to make sure they were on their way alright. His phone was turned off. I think independence has arrived (And it's very quiet). My Mothering Days are nearly through.
A 
