Yesterday we embarked on yet another train trip to Edinburgh, this time taking J with us. He was told to arrive promptly at 6.15 am because a taxi was arriving to collect us at 6.30am.
“Yes Mum, I’ll be there, don’t worry!” How many times during the last twenty eight years or so have I heard those words? (Well maybe not twenty eight as he couldn’t talk when he was born, only cry, so maybe 25 years.) Of course as usual he ended up running down the road at the last minute, huffing and puffing into the waiting taxi. Sigh. Will my youngest son ever EVER see the stupidity of never being able to arrive on time for anything not to mention the complete waste of energy spent pelting down roads, platforms etc in order to catch buses, trains and waiting taxis?