This week, I have been on holiday in Paris with my children, a good friend, and her three kids. The resulting level of decibels could probably rival your average A320 warming up for take-off, but everyone had fun. We stayed at my parents’, whose aim seems to be that any guest should leave their house at least 10 pounds heavier than when they arrived.
We enjoyed some nice weather, and negotiated our way around Paris with 5 children: An hour at the park roughly got us an hour at the museum, and we had to throw in the odd ice-cream after we ran into overtime at an exhibition.
In contrast, I realised that last week had been harrowing, mostly because my children were separated and it felt like all the pieces from my personal jigsaw were scattered. Girl was staying with her dad T for the week, and her brother, who still refuses to stay with T, was with my parents. My children, who had been so close, and had found so much comfort in each other after T left, were being driven apart. My own pain had also alienated me from both of them.
This week, they got to become close again, and I got to spend some good moments with them, which had not happened in a long time. Yesterday, the last piece joined us, and the jigsaw felt complete for a little while at least…
Ben Harper – Number three: