Flown the nest

 I had had a bad night on Tuesday because of my anxiety over Albina. . She was still in hospital, feeling weakened by her biopsy and subsequent loss of blood. In the mean time Sandro and Liisa only arrived at Boston Manor station very late last night, that is almost at midnight. The amount of luggage that had lugged with them barely fitted into my car after they both got in.

Next morning, still anxious, I went to work, having swapped my usual Tuedsay with a colleague who was going to be away on Wednesday. I knew that even if Albina would be allowed to go home that day, it would only be in the evening when I could collect her and she would not have been spending her son's last day in England with him for as long as she had wanted. 

Yet when I did collect she was chirpy and energetic, still capable of berating me because she had to walk at least five minutes in the driving wind to reach the spot where I had parked the car. Sandro and Liisa were at a gong away party somewhere in South London with their many friends from university and beyond. Again they had to be collected from Brentford station also very late, way past 10pm. However, the four of us were together and chatting for at least an hour. We discussed the details of our hiring a van to remove their excess goods still left uncollected at their Cambridge address and we now had details of the charity, Emmaeus, that had promised to collect much of their furniture. They have shifted a lot of the details of their move to us but as we're the parents, what can we do but help out? We talked about their future plans, but carefully avoiding any questions about marriage or children (taboo subjects), as we know these questions upset them. I suppose it's none of our business. If you have a child, you dedicate about twenty years of your life to bring them up and educating them, and after that you only have a look in, or a say, only if they want you too. On a need to know basis. And if they are in Finalnd and the children, if any, are educated there, then we would not even have any connection with them, which would upset Albina greatly. We also showed them brochures of our great trip, giving them a glimpse of what awaits us, and perhaps making them just a little jealous? 

Thursday morning Albina and Liisa took a taxi while Sandro and I took the car, crammed to the gunnels (whatever that is) with six heavy suitcases. We needed two trolleys to wheel the suitcases the long distance from the car terminal to the Finnair desk at Terminal 3. After that we had a really relaxing breakfast in the terminal and saw them off with no tears and a just a quick photo before their flight.

After 32 years Sandro, our one and only, has not just fled the nest; he has fled the forest. Judging by the current state of the UK, he and Liisa have left in the nick of time.