I miss having my parents nearby.
It's not that they were nearby when we lived in
, but then none of my friends had family nearby so we all just mucked in together. Here, everyone seems to have relatives down the road, including ourselves. London
But they're not my parents.
That's why the last two weeks - when Mum and Dad chugged up North on their narrow boat and moored in various beauty spots along the Leeds-Liverpool canal - have been such bliss.
We've popped in for morning coffee or tea and cake after school. We've had day trips through tunnels and locks and swing bridges. We've explored the cotton wharfs in
Burnley and the tea rooms at Gargrave. Rosa's stayed the night, on best behaviour, and Joe's had regularly doses of terrorising the dog and playing chess on Mum's iPad.
We've waved them off now, on their long trip back South. Of course, it's infinitely quicker by car, even with the caravan in tow, but it's not got the same novelty value. I think everyone should have grandparents nearby on a narrow boat.