I've just taken J to school for the last time. Despite the risk of looking like over-protective parents, the beloved and I accompanied him on this momentous occasion. The next time he goes to school it will be on a coach with his mates, not me. I'm not even sure I'll be allowed to wave from the window in a remotely maternal way.
I'm squeezing in a couple of hours of watercolour tuition and a haircut before the end of term assembly at 1.30pm. I'm expecting tears, especially from my beloved and, quite probably, from me
There are, however, compensations. No packed lunches for six whole weeks, lie-ins every day and the perfect excuse not to clean the house until September. I lurrrrve the summer holidays.