Now We Are Somewhat Older

I’m not sure how this day arrived. Our children have grown up. I know because today, Nick and I went on a just the two of us day trip and didn’t consult the kids. This seems to be as good a way of determining their maturity as any. Nina made mock-outraged sounds along the lines of, ‘you could have invited me’, Holly made a grunting sound from under her bedclothes, and the dogs were the most put out. We didn’t think of any of them once.


We went on a trip that was a negotiated compromise, achieving a lot more that the not-yet-leaders of our indecisive nation have yet managed. There is a hung parliament and anarchy in the UK. The anarchy is being expressed by means of polite speculation. Shrewsbury, followed by Cosford Air Museum it was. I had been up late reading and holding out for Nina to come back from the nightclubs, falling asleep at 5.30, just as Nick was turning over to the songs of the blackbirds, so I was a bit subdued.

It was hard to remember our way around Shrewsbury, we had been there once, but long enough ago to have forgotten where the good car parks are. I had the idea that we would have a nice lunch in a proper restaurant but we amused ourselves by eating at an old fashioned café serving salads as presented in 1973 (lettuce leaves, sliced tomato, cucumber, white onion in large rings, grated cheese, white bread and butter), and things with chips. I had sausages, Nick had pie which was topped with an outrageously high quiff of puff pastry. The place was thronging with people treating themselves in a moderate way, bouncing babies and speaking in hushed tones. We discussed the winners and losers in the local elections. Then we did a bit of browsing around the market. We were playful with each other, and I fell for Nick and this little town, as representative of England as anywhere could be with old stone bridges, waterfront cafes, small shops and a big M&S.

Nick loves aeroplanes. I think his teenage dream was to become and RAF pilot, not to kill strangers, but for the roar of the engines and the lines of wings. He had given up this ambition before we met, but I’ve always had to accept that he is an opportunistic plane spotter and occasional attendee of air shows (baseball cap and camera compulsory). I sat in the café while Nick wondered about. My plans to do some writing went by the by as I was very sleepy. I watched the crow on the lawn, the air ambulance go out, and a grandmother enjoying her tiny baby grandson, his face still squashed and his little head supported by her hand.

On the way home, Nick remembered the time his Dad came here with him. Over a decade ago, we didn’t have a car, and the father and son had bonded over the train journey and long walk. They both like planes. We are thinking about Nick’s Dad a lot these days. Get well soon Bernard, last time you visited, you painted the outside of our house. It wants doing again when you feel up to it.