Oldest son is going to Manchester tomorrow for a University Open Day. This involves half the family getting up at 4:15 am. It's now 11:40pm and he's still washing his hair.
It turns out that the Olympic torch is passing within a few yards of Manchester Piccadilly station at precisely the time he's planning to be heading back there for the train home. And he doesn't think he has anything to worry about from pickpockets.
The ticket cost us £80, discounted to £53 with his newly-acquired (for £28) student railcard. Just in case he does lose it, I've transferred £150 into his brand-new current account so that in extremis he can buy new tickets for himself and his mate to get back home. Providing he does as I've suggested and puts his debit card in a different pocket from his wallet and train ticket. But he knows it'll be all right, and that Mum's just being Mum and can safely be ignored. Aargh.
I'm going to be a complete zombie tomorrow at this rate, and I shall have to go out and pick him up from Ebbsfleet (45 minutes away) at about 10 tomorrow night; I'm sorely tempted to just go to bed now and leave him to get on with it, but then he'll just get immersed in something and go to bed at 3 o'clock. I was tired anyway tonight and had planned to go to bed at about ten, but that was the time he finally conceded that he ought to start getting himself together.
On the brighter side, I was tickled pink to realise, on looking at the map of Manchester city centre, that he would be walking underneath the Mancunian Way. He's even agreed to get a couple of photos!
Anyway, I must go and harass him to go to sleep else it will be hardly worth him going - he'll be too tired to take anything in.