Lecture Failure!

Continued from Friday 26th September........

I realised that my son must have been hooked up to an ECG machine, which explained the stickers all over his chest and that the sticking plaster was covering the site where some of his blood had been taken. I felt quite bewildered and all I could manage to say was 'Why?'

Apparently, student son and his friends had been in a club, but had gone outside for a while, because 2 of them wanted a cigarette. They were not allowed to take their drinks with them, and had to leave them on one of the tables inside the club. When they returned, my son picked up his drink, finished it and collapsed. One of his friends called an ambulance and accompanied him to the hospital, whilst his other friends followed in a taxi.

Student son came round, as he was being put into the ambulance by the paramedics. One of them asked for the telephone number of anyone he wanted notified of his hospital admission, but student son was able to think clearly enough to decide that he didn't want his parents at the hospital, so he gave them his own mobile number. (This explained why we had not been contacted, then!) The hospital monitored him throughout the night and discharged him the following morning, when they were satisfied that he was alright.

After I'd recovered a little from the impact of these revelations, we discussed the possible reasons for student son's collapse. He and his friends felt that his drink had been spiked. I couldn't help but wonder whether he had simply drunk more than his body could cope with, as he is very slim and probably of less than average height. The hospital was unable to offer any explanation for student son's collapse.

My husband and I gave my son a(nother) lecture about the dangers of alcohol abuse, and leaving his drink unattended, before he returned to university that evening. My son doesn't often have the opportunity to go out, because he is kept busy with lectures and placements, but I suspect that on a lot of the occasions he goes drinking, he has too much. Most of the places catering for students offer cheap alcohol. The club my son and his friends had been in, on the fateful evening, was 'students only' and had been selling beer for a £1 per pint. I knew that my student son was intending to go to a party the following Friday evening, so I reminded him a couple of times, over the telephone, during the next week, that he needed to cut down his alcohol intake at the party.

My husband and I were late going to bed, on the night of the party and were watching the end of a film on tv, at 12.30am, when my middle son came into the room, saying that he had just had a conversation with student son, on his mobile 'phone. Middle son had kept student son talking, as he walked home from the pub', where the party had been held. He had realised that student son was a bit 'the worse for wear', so he felt that he should keep him talking until he was safely inside his student house. After a few minutes of talking, middle son remarked that it was taking student son a long time to get back to the house. 'Yes, I know' said student son. 'It's taking ages.'

'Why is it taking so long?' asked middle son, who needed to go to sleep, as he was working the next day.

'Cos I can't walk in a straight line!' said student son.

I smiled weakly, through my despair. That was another lecture that had fallen on deaf ears, then.

Sleepless In A Country Town

We picked up student son from university, last Friday, as he wanted to come home for the weekend. I was overcome with joy when I realised that he was bringing 3 weeks' washing with him. Hurrah! Lots of dark clothes to accompany my dark socks in the washing machine and make up a load. I wouldn't have to wear my odd socks, for a while, then. Hmmm.....

The following evening, student son had arranged to go out with some of his friends. They were travelling by 'bus into the nearest city, a journey of about 13 miles, to visit a couple of clubs. When I went to bed that night, my son still hadn't returned from his evening out, but I wasn't too worried, as he had told me that he and his friends expected to be too late to catch the last 'bus, so intended to return by taxi.

I couldn't sleep, because I had already fallen asleep on the settee downstairs, during the evening, so I read, until I felt tired. Every time I tried to lie down and sleep, however, I found that I couldn't settle and I didn't finally sleep until my third attempt. After a couple of hours, I woke up and went into student son's bedroom to check his bed, but it was still empty. It was 3 am and I began to conjure up pictures of student son lying alone, in the gutter, in some dark side street. He had spent the night away from home, without letting me know, on 2 other occasions and each time, he had stayed with the same friend. I reassured myself that, once again, he would be staying at his friend's house.

About 2 hours later, I woke again and checked student son's bed. He was still missing. I checked the 'phones for messages or texts, but found nothing. By this time, I imagined that student son had probably been run over, whilst lying alone, in the gutter, in the same dark side street. Alternatively, I imagined him telling me the next day, that I had been silly for worrying about him, when he had only been at his friend's house.

At 7 am, I woke again, realised that student son still hadn't come home and imagined him being rescued from the gutter, in the dark side street, by 2 paramedics and then being rushed to Accident and Emergency, in an ambulance, with the siren wailing. I told myself not to be silly. My 3 sons had each worried me on the odd occasion, by staying out late, or not coming home at all. Each time, I had been concerned in case something had happened to them, but my fears had always proved unfounded.

At 8 am, I texted student son, asked him where he was and told him that his eldest brother was coming to lunch, with his girlfriend, so that they could see him before he went back to university. At 10 am, I texted again and asked if he was okay. I knew that if he had been admitted into hospital, I would have been contacted by now, so I was beginning to feel annoyed about being ignored by him.

I was in the bathroom at about 10.30 am, when I heard the front door open and then I heard student son's voice. I sighed with relief, realising that he must have been at his friend's house, after all, and he had obviously just walked home from there.

I went out onto the landing, leaning over the rail, at the top of the stairs, just in time to see my son taking off his t-shirt. I was puzzled by the fact that he had several round stickers on his chest and a sticking plaster in the crook of his right elbow. He glanced up at me, suddenly, and said 'Guess who spent the night in A and E, then?'

Crazy Sunday!

Last Sunday morning, when my alarm woke me from my deep and wonderful sleep, I re-set it and snuggled down for an extra half an hour's stolen slumber. My husband and I were supposed to be taking my student son back to uni(versity) after the Easter break, but, when I had gone to bed the previous night, student son still hadn't returned from his evening out, so I suspected that he would remain in a comatose condition for a few more hours, yet.

At 8am, I woke with a start, as I remembered that middle son needed to go to work and he also hadn't been at home, when I had gone to bed last night. I checked his bedroom and the rest of the house, but he was nowhere to be found. My mind wandered, as I considered the difficulties of sharing house and home with a grown up family, who could not yet afford homes of their own. My 2 eldest sons were aged 25 and 23, so they were mostly free to come and go as they pleased and they led their own lives. I didn't wait up for them, if they were late home after an evening out, but they knew that if they spontaneously decided to spend the night elsewhere, they were supposed to text or ring, either the same night, or the next morning. After all, I needed to know when to call out the emergency services, organise the dragging of local rivers and canals, and when to alert the Prime Minister and Interpol.

It was possible, of course, that middle son had told my husband that he hadn't intended to come home last night, but had forgotten to tell me. It was another problem that we sometimes encountered, because, to a certain extent, as an adult family, we tended to resemble 'ships that passed in the night'. I didn't feel that it was any longer fair, or practical, to demand that we all met up for at least one meal a week. There were conflicting working hours, friends, girlfriends and other engagements to be taken into account. We met up whenever it was possible. It had to suffice. Group conversations, involving the whole family, were a rarity, but bewildering conversations between 2 family members were inevitably quite common, such as the one I had with my eldest son during the past week:

'Where's younger brother?' asked eldest son. 'I haven't heard his music for a couple of days.'

'He's on an outward bound course, this week' I replied. 'It's to do with his new job.'

'Has he got a new job? When did he start that, then?' eldest son enquired.

'A couple of weeks ago' I replied.

'Does he not work for the well-known High Street store, where he could get 30% discount off cds, DVDs and video games, any more, then?' asked eldest son, with a hint of rising panic in his voice.

'He's still working there at weekends' I answered.

Eldest son audibly heaved a sigh of relief and said somewhat grumpily as he left the room, 'Nobody tells me anything around here!'

My husband didn't know where middle son was, either, so I considered the possibilities:

1. He could be lying in the gutter, somewhere.
2. He could be in hospital.
3. He could be at the police station.
4. He could be at a friend's house.

I hoped that he wasn't lying in the gutter anywhere, because it could mean that his mobile 'phone had been stolen and I would have to expend a fair amount of energy, walking the streets in search of him. The nearest A & E departments were actually quite close and would require less effort to reach, than the local police 'lock-up'. Then again, if one of the police officers happened to be driving out in this direction, he/she might be kind enough to drop off middle son, after his night in the cells. I would then be free to indulge in my usual Sunday morning pastime of relaxing in my comfy armchair, enjoying a cup of caffeine and watching BBC 24 hour news, on Sky Tv. I shook myself out of my reverie, guiltily dismissing my uncharitable thoughts.

The most likely scenario was that middle son had stayed at someone's house. He was due to start work at 10am and needed an hour's travelling time. If I texted him at 8.20am, it would serve the dual purpose of waking him and assuring me that he was alright. He would, hopefully, have enough time to walk home, shower and still arrive at work on time. There was also the possibility that he had forgotten to put his watch forward an hour, which served to fully convince me that I definitely needed to text him at 8.20am.

I interrupted my breakfast to text middle son and remind him of the time. He rang almost immediately and told me, in a voice thick with sleep, that he didn't have to be at work until 11am and that he had stayed at his relatively new girlfriend's house the previous night. He thanked me, most politely, in the circumstances, I felt, and said that he would see me shortly. I remembered, rather belatedly, that for the last 12 months, he had regularly started work at 10am on a Saturday and 11am on a Sunday. Oops!

I showered and dressed, then remembered that student son had brought home his bedclothes, from his room, to be washed. I had washed them with the rest of our bedclothes and now they were all mixed up together, in the airing cupboard. With sinking heart, I realised, that I needed to try and recover them. I tentatively opened the cupboard door and, the speed with which the contents leapt out and overpowered me, took my breath away. A fitted sheet adorned my head, draped at a rather rakish angle over my right eye, whilst pillowcases and duvet covers clung around my ankles. It was glaringly obvious that I'd been blessed with none of the organisational skills of Anthea Turner.

I picked up a duvet cover and clutched it to my chest, gazing, eyes unfocused, as I inwardly bemoaned the fact that there were no decent cupboards in our house. The previous occupants had knocked out the one under the stairs. We had small kitchen cupboards, a few fitted wardrobes and 2 double beds with drawers, but that was the limit. At one time, I had kept the bedclothes in the drawers under the beds, but I had now filled up the drawers with other crap, so the bedclothes had to be stuffed into the airing cupboard.

I thought enviously of the 2 bedroomed house into which my parents had moved a few years ago. It had 3 walk-in double cupboards and 4 walk-in single cupboards. It must have been designed by a woman. When they moved, after 50 years of living in the same house, my parents got rid of possessions, which they later wished they had kept and kept things for which they had no need. They resolved never, to collect and store crap, ever again, but 5 years later, they have been 100% successful in filling their precious, enviable and significantly spacious cupboards with more crap. I definitely needed more cupboards, so that I could store more crap!

I forced my self to concentrate on the matter in hand and began sorting through the fitted sheets. I couldn't tell the doubles from the singles, as usual. The pale blue singles wouldn't fit student son's extra deep mattress, so he needed the darker blue, or perhaps it was the other way around? Sheets, pillowcases and duvet covers flew through the air in all directions, as I resolved to buy all of my bedclothes from John Lewis in future. They pandered to their spatially-challenged, or disorganised customers, in the most delightful way, by labelling their fitted sheets 'double' and 'single'. Awesome! I wondered whether they labelled their socks 'left' and 'right'.

I finally found student son's bedclothes and put them in his bedroom, ready for him to pack. I kicked his bed and shook the headboard, but he still didn't stir. We would be late leaving if he didn't wake up soon. After a long week of deliberation, we had decided that we would leave the house at 10am to take student son back to uni(versity). I had excelled all previous efforts by being ready to leave at 10.30am, but student son was still nowhere near ready. He had been out until 4am, apparently and didn't seem to be in any hurry to pack and leave the house.

When I reminded him that we'd originally intended to leave at 10am, he claimed that we'd never told him we intended to leave at that time and, when I thought back, I realised that he was right! My husband and I had agreed the time between ourselves, completely forgetting that he hadn't been present at the time!

We had some lunch and finally left home at about 3.30pm, after agreeing that we would have a pub' meal, before returning home. The journey was uneventful, but when we arrived at student son's accommodation, I remarked upon the peace and quiet. There were hardly any cars in the car park. No-one was wandering around with 2 months' dirty washing, trying to remember the exact location of the launderette, or staggering around, arms piled high with lager and crisps, trying to recall the exact location of last night's party. 'Everyone else has another 2 weeks' holiday' explained student son. 'It's only the students on my course, who had to return, today.

There are about 10 blocks of student flats on the site where student son lives. We were surprised to discover that he would be virtually alone in his block for the next 2 weeks. There would inevitably be a few international students scattered around the site and there would be some other students, from his learning group, in the neighbouring block, but he would remain alone on his floor, as far as we could tell. Apparently, student son had told his brother that he would be alone for 2 weeks, but had forgotten to mention it to us and, suddenly, we understood why he'd been in no particular hurry to return!

I've spoken with him, on a few occasions, during the past week and he has had no problems with his isolation, except for a few odd noises now and again, which could always be blamed on other students, when there were other students in the neighbouring rooms.

A narrow corridor runs outside his room and leading off it, there are 6 other student rooms, a kitchen, sluice, 2 toilets and a shower room. There are locked doors at both ends of the corridor, for which each student has a key. Student son informed me, during one of our telephone conversations, that he had been enjoying the freedom of wandering naked between the shower and his bedroom, whilst there was no-one else around. I opened my mouth with the intention of pointing out that he should be careful of the cleaners, who continued to work throughout the holidays, albeit in a limited capacity. I suddenly changed my mind, however, and clamped my mouth firmly shut. After all, it would be a grave error of judgement on my part, to risk depriving myself of potentially amusing material for any future blogs!

Moving On

We were not at home when our student son arrived, on Friday afternoon for his first weekend visit, after starting university. My husband was working in Birmingham, on Friday and Saturday of last week, so we were staying at my parents' house, in the Midlands.

By the time we arrived home, late Saturday afternoon, student son had already done most of his washing. I wasn't sorry about that, particularly when I found out that it had been his friend Lucy's idea to come home that weekend, so that their respective mothers could do their washing! Student son had first met Lucy when they were attending for interview at another university. They had discovered that they lived quite close to each other, and, by sheer coincidence, had met up again in their tutor group, on their current course.

I dutifully began to help my son with the rest of his washing, drying and ironing, shortly after arriving home and things were back to normal for 24 hours or so. Student son had caught up with his friends on Friday evening, so he spent the remainder of Saturday watching the cricket, football and rugby on the television. I got up early on Sunday morning, so that we could enjoy a roast beef dinner together, before he embarked upon his return journey to university.

All too soon, we were heading for the railway station, in the car, and I began to think back to a couple of weeks ago, when my son had suddenly become anxious, as the time to begin his university course had loomed closer. At one point, he had insisted that he would not go to university unless he passed his driving test, because he wanted to be able to travel home at weekends in his car. I had worried that maybe he wasn't ready to leave home, perhaps he should have worked for a year, or perhaps I had been over-protective, in some way, which had resulted in his sudden loss of confidence. I had become concerned, because he seemed to be looking back, instead of forward, and I had worried that he would be unable to settle.

As it happened, student son had passed driving his test, but had been persuaded to leave his car at home, because of parking difficulties on campus, and, as far as I could tell, he now seemed to be coping very well with life away from home. He appeared to be getting on famously with the other students sharing his kitchen, and was keeping company with Lucy and a second girl in his tutor group.

I came back to the present as we pulled up on the station car park, about 10 minutes before the train was due to leave. We walked over to the front of the station with student son, as he rang Lucy, to check that she was on her way. When she confirmed that she would be arriving shortly, my husband turned to me and asked whether we should wait and meet her.

I asked my son what he wanted us to do, but he shuffled from one foot to the other, and replied that he really didn't mind, one way or the other. I searched his face for some indication of his true feelings on the matter, and I concluded that he wanted to wait for Lucy alone. We gave him a quick hug and I kissed his neck, as he had grown too tall for me to reach his cheek. I looked into his face, as we backed away, preparing to leave. He said goodbye, then, as he turned to look towards the car park entrance, I saw his expression change and I realised, without even looking, that Lucy had arrived. In that instant, as I watched him, watching Lucy, I understood that we were no longer centre stage in his life. We were about to play a smaller part. He was looking forward. He was moving on.

We turned and quickly walked to our car. I glanced over towards the car park entrance, glimpsing a pretty dark-haired girl emerging from a car, and smiling in my son's direction. I hoped that there would be other opportunities to meet Lucy, as soon as my son was ready. We drove out of the car park and merged with the oncoming traffic, without looking back.

Things I Didn't Want to Read in my Student Son's Email

1) The cleaners left a notice in our kitchen. It said that they had been unable to clean it, due to the amount of dirty washing up and empty beer cans left lying around. If we did not clear everything up, they would confiscate the dirty pots and pans etc, and we would have to pay to get them back.

2) It took us ages to do the shopping, today. There's so many students round here that some of the shops had sold out of alcohol. We had to try loads of shops before we could get the brand that we wanted.

3) We've had to move all of the food out of the 'fridge to make room for the alcohol.

4)After a few seconds, I realised that he was probably joking. He was joking, wasn't he?