My soon-to-be-travelling-to-the-end-of-the-world son is sitting behind me filling in a Visa application to Cambodia (and farting). He is off to various embassies today and to get his Japanese Encephalitis jab (I still don’t know what that is but it better be worth it because it’s costing me somewhere in the region of £78 and that’s on top of £150 for a rabies jab…).

I’ve been relatively calm up until now, because of course it’s a good thing that he’s off to spread his wings a little. Flee the nest for a minute. I know SEA really well – I couldn’t love it more. I have never felt safer. However putting myself into the mind and body of a 19 year old boy with 6 mates is an entirely different matter. Their brains function differently. They’re not sensible. Now that I’m getting a little more involved in the detail I’ve noticed my stress levels rising. My friends aren’t helping – mothers of two other boys who are going with him – they are not only far more hands on than me but are beginning to freaking me out about things like losing visas and border controls.

Here is an email my friend sent me yesterday:-

“After being very laid back about their forthcoming trip – am now feeling completely sick about the whole thing!! Was online last night checking he’d got the right info re visas etc and went on a few sites about safety, crime rates, healthcare, emergency services or lack of them!! Also read a few students real life experiences and freaked myself out. Anyway obviously haven’t slept a wink and now becoming completely paranoid so Catholic priest booked in for major blessing plus have asked a girl who has recently come back from travelling to meet up with them to chat about her experiences of travelling through Asia. She’s back from uni for a few days so thought it might be a good idea to get the boys together with her for a drink. I know my son won’t be impressed that I’m now interfering but his whole approach so far seems very naive and vague. Nowhere in Asia seems particularly great for blonde English teenage youths but Cambodia – well certain parts – sounds really scary.

Sorry don’t want to make you nervous and I’m sure they’ll be fine but I think the reality of them being away for a long period of time in strange lands is just hitting home!”

My response:-

FFS – the bloody rubber ring thing in Laos!! Shall we just follow them in disguise? I think I can get my mother to come for 4 months. Should be fine. Would be good to get together. Maybe we could also find somebody who looks awful who spent some time in a Thai prison to come to the pub for a drink too? Just to put them off? Know anyone?

Hers:-

Yes any deterrent is a good idea – this weekend I’m planning to run continuous showings of Apocalypse Now, The Deerhunter and The King of Siam – that should be enough to put anyone off!! Be good to meet up soon.

Mine:-

“Don’t forget “Midnight Express” – that’s the best one!! Must order it on Amazon now.

Anyway. You see how easy it is to whip yourself up into a frenzy of total panic. At this rate I’ll be at the airport refusing to let go of his leg and shouting at all the security men to stop him.

I wonder if this is because he’s my firstborn and it’s all new. Another phase in his life that I want to be involved in, take an interest in. Like all the 85,000 photos I took of him when he was born, started crawling, walking, swimming, going to school – as if he was the first child to ever do all that stuff. Isn’t it incredible how much information you can absorb at each stage – I was so knowledgeable on breast Vs bottle feeding and prams and primary schools and contagious water born diseases you can catch in swimming pools. I’ve got notes on his growth, his first words, I’ve even got a little box of his teeth. Surprised I haven’t got test tubes full of poo samples to be honest.

I wonder how much that level of focus from a parent affects the child long term and whether it’s therefore a good or bad thing that my third child is going to have an entirely different experience. He is at the opposite end of the spectrum and is convinced that there isn’t one photo of him growing up and to be honest, although I try to convince him otherwise, I haven’t found it yet. I have no memory of his first words, no photo album of his first year, no little umbilical cord clips (yuk) and no box of teeny weeny teeth. In fact, I am ashamed to admit that once, when I managed to lose his tooth before it went under his pillow for the tooth fairy I “borrowed” one from my little box that belonged to his older brother – but it was a little brittle and the wrong colour and he wasn’t really convinced.

Does this mean I’ll be far more chilled when it comes to his travels? Maybe I won’t even notice he’s gone….Unlikely. He’s my last child. He gets just the same amount of love from me, but in a different way. Must ask him about it all though and maybe try harder in future – wonder if he will want me to come with him to the hairdressers and save some locks of hair and other such stuff….

I don’t know why I am remotely surprised then that his plans to travel round half the world next month are not exactly coming together. I mean I’m certainly not going to get an itinerary, let alone an address. At least he’s busy earning the money to support his adventure – working in a pub and coaching football at his old school which is great, but I don’t see any signs of digging wells or teaching English or even shearing sheep looking very likely at this late stage. Just a lot of him randomly mentioning another country – “maybe we’ll go to Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia and then back to Malaysia but I’m meeting some mates in Chiang Mai and then we’ll….” honestly it’s like they’re getting on a bus to go to central London – how will they meet their mates? Where will they stay? The main default setting for the group appears to be about making sure they are in the right place at the right time for The “Full Moon Party” in Thailand (and I suspect that it’s title is more to do with exposing ones buttocks to everyone rather than the natural satellite of the earth).

He’s meant to be off to Australia next month and there are a few friends of mine that I’m sure he can stay with (for a few nights) but I can’t get him to email anybody in advance to find out what dates would be appropriate to visit or indeed if they are even going to be in the country. My suggestion that it would be a teeny bit rude to just appear on the other side of the world is falling on deaf ears. “Don’t worry mum, it’ll be fine….” is not very reassuring – last time I heard that he ended up in a Polish prison. I guess, (as it was with the two Aussie teenagers that recently stayed with me) it will be ultimately down to the parents to do the organising.

Anyway, he’s got retakes coming up very soon now so it’s better if he’s not too focused on the next far more exciting stage of his year. I note that instead of past papers and revision timetables being looked at on Google there are the beginnings of some mobilisation to the cause. The thing is that secretly these teenagers are clever and know that if they leave it long enough somebody else might do the work for them. They are entirely capable in every way when they want to be. Here are the first stirrings of his Gap Year planning taken from my Google history:-

Claiming back your tax when on a gap year
Applying for an Australia visa from the UK (god, watch out Aussie friends – leave the country before it’s too late)
STA travel
Cheap flights from Australia to Asia
Convert Australian dollars to GB
Quantas airlines
Cheap beers in Asia (I made that one up but I’m surprised it’s not there).

Blogging, they say, helps boost a teenagers confidence and can help them relate better to friends. Opening the blog to comments had an even stronger impact because the writers often got support and advice.

This doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. I too found that writing a blog not only helped me order my thoughts and find a way of structuring my life in what was a very deep black hole but the support I got from other readers and bloggers and friends who would call after reading was invaluable. It was my form of counselling when all my friends had got a little bit bored of listening to me. I found the fact that there were other people out there willing to listen and advise and it was massively reassuring. It was also important to feel useful by being able to give my advice and support to others going through a difficult period for whatever reason.

Now things have changed again – I can’t write as openly as I’d like at the moment because my ex husband and his new wife read it and it is just exactly that same feeling as when you think your parents or your siblings are reading your diary. This is where the divide between an online diary and a private journal become very different. One is quite simply a lot more private than the other – but I am the one who has put myself in this position so I’ve got to work it out. Should I continue to be honest and upfront and face the consequences or go back to a private journal? I wonder, in years to come whether research will show that those teenagers will regret putting certain issues and truths up on their blog for all to see or whether they will continue to feel that honesty and openness is the way forward in our brave new Facebooky world.

I had one of those exact flashbacks last night. I went out for a drink with a couple of girlfriends to the pub where my son is working. “You look much older standing behind the bar” my friend, (who has known him since he was at nursery) told him. I can’t quite cope with seeing my child in a normal working environment interacting with people WITHOUT MY HELP. It was quite tempting to leapfrog over the bar to help him unscrew the wine bottles (THANK GOD HE DOESN’T HAVE TO USE A CORKSCREW LIKE WE DID) and get the glasses out because he was probably going to drop them….

Just being on the cusp of total independence now, as a mother I feel a curious mix of immense pride tinged with sadness. How amazing it is to know that your own child is now capable, not only of being left alone on his own without blowing things up but can actually mix successfully with people of all ages and has become a thoroughly likeable and sociable, fully functioning adult in the real world…..but at the same time I long to wrap him up in a duvet and put him back in a cot. I can’t quite believe that he will never ask me to help him tie his shoe laces again (although to be fair I did have to spend about an hour untying a huge knot he had created the other day).

Anyway, we left him to it so as not to embarrass him and went and sat at a table elsewhere. Several empty wine bottles later, we went back to the bar to say goodbye to him only to be accosted by several glassy eyed women literally sitting on bar stalls staring at him. “OMG – IS THIS YOUR SON????”. REALLY??? “He told me his mum was here and I thought you’d have grey hair and a walking stick”. She then proceeded to tell me how she’d been flirting with him, but in a good way because she was 39 and married with kids and obviously wouldn’t really do anything at all and it was all a bit of fun, but wasn’t he beautiful and look….” then she lent across the bar and said to him “go on – make your angry face”. So he did. “Now make your happy face”. She was laughing and I was taken right back to nursery days again. “Now make your really really sweet puzzled face”. Good Grief. I was thinking “I’m his mother, I don’t need to see him make stupid faces – he makes them all the time!!”.

I can’t cope with older women fancying him. I’m allowed to fancy young barmen but other women aren’t allowed to flirt with my son. NO WAY. So you see? New territory for us. I’m going to have to find another bar to go to now so we don’t cramp each others style!

In the meantime I had several texts and phone calls from my teenage son that loudly vibrated in the corner. WHAT IS IT WITH TEENAGE BOYS THAT MEANS THAT THEY HAVE TO BE ANSWERED IMMEDIATELY?? If I don’t respond, there is a reason. I’M WORKING. He now has some jobs so thinks the world is supposed to revolve around him. He’s done well so far finding jobs here and there. He’s got a bar job that pays £6.00 an hour which is only just above the minimum wage. Did an event at Madame Tussaud’s the other evening and again, whilst the pay is crap was delighted because after a 10 hour shift he can make a reasonable amount.

“So when are you going on your gap year?” said my youngest son whilst we were all eating together the other day.

“Umm, I’m on it actually” he said.

“What? You are actually on your gap year?? What actually now? Whilst you’re eating baked beans on toast at home?” he asked incredulously. “I thought you were supposed to be on a desert island or something?”.

“Yeah. Well that comes later….when I’ve made some money”.

So today – all day, he is busy making money. Today he has a labouring job. Then he has an hour off before he does a 5 hour shift at the pub this evening. He’s going to be knackered. Thus he was up with all of us for the first time in about two years at 7am which caused havoc with our one bathroom. My other two children were not amused. Then there was much discussion about what he should be wearing and ten minutes of me trying to untie the laces on a pair of shoes he needed. Whether he should take a packed lunch etc. I offered to cook him some eggs “NO I HAVEN’T GOT TIME” he shouted as he left the house with a piece of toast wedged between his teeth. 10 minutes later I got my first text saying “mum, I’ve forgotten a pair of gloves – can you drop some off after you’ve dropped the others at school?”.

God. Yes. OK. Find gloves. Leave 5 minutes earlier in order to do a detour to him.

THEN fifteen minutes later came the second text “mum, can u drop my cigarettes off please?”

“Are u joking?” I said.

“No, the builder smokes and I’ve left them at home – pleeeease”.

Forget it.

Stop smoking.

He was meant to be going to university today. I had it in my diary. His friend has gone without him now and his mother texted me to say how sad he was that my son wasn’t there with him and how bad she felt about leaving him there alone. I discussed it with my son. “Mum, he said” rolling his eyes, “he’s absolutely fine. He’s just sent me a text saying “beer £1.36 and the fittest people I have ever seen”.

All good then.

I did have stern words with him a few days ago (which I won’t go into now), but one of the issues was regarding keeping us all informed of which hostel they were staying in – we barely even knew which country they were in, let alone where to find them specifically. I asked for details.

So I got:

hi mum, all cool, address for the hostel we r in for next few days is

“Instant Groove Party House” Budapest.

Oh great. TBH, didn’t make me feel a whole lot better.

Just every parents nightmare. I had a call at 9.00am from one of the mother’s of the boys inter-railing with my son. There are six of them travelling around Europe together. She said:-

“Have you heard?”
“No – heard what?”
“There’s been an incident”

Heart stops. Fear. Cold sweats. Hairs up on the back of my neck.

“What sort of incident?”
“A fight. They all got into a fight in a bar”
“Are they all OK?”
“I don’t know…no…not really”

They’re in Krakow, Poland. That’s all I know. What has happened? Where do you start? Then all her words just merged into a terrifying frenzy of panic:-

“one of them has been glassed in the face…eye…blood everywhere… ambulance …stitches ..police …four of them have been arrested…detention centre … assault charges … no phones … can’t talk to them …others in hospital…

and so on.

I called my son. Phone off. I called his father, my ex husband and we kept each other updated all day, tried to piece together what happened and formulate some sort of plan of attack. Jumbled messages came in all morning. I spoke to other parents. Suddenly we had Consul people involved, friends on the ground who were able to find out some information for us and all day I tried not to be sick, tried not to fear the worst. Tried to get a balance between one of the dad’s near total lack of concern because everything would be fine, they’d definitely be released to thoughts of “Midnight Express”. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

After a long long day of panic the plan was that his father was going to fly out. Find translators. Speak to the police. See what was to happen next.

But at 7pm my ex called me to let me know one of them had been released and that they were proposing to release them all in 35 minute intervals. I called the father of the released boy and told him the news – he hadn’t heard and I said “hooray! At least you know he’s safe” and he said “I will not be happy until they are all released. They are in this together. They are a team, but thanks for letting me know”.

Five minutes later he called me back. “Have you heard?” he said. “No. What?”.

Panic again.

“They’ve all been released”.

I can’t tell you that feeling of relief. It makes you want to cry.

Son called 10 minutes later. Sounded absolutely fine. More grown up in fact. Told me about the incident and again it all merged, this time into a blurry haze of relief that everyone is OK. One of his friend’s has 26 stitches in his face, but his eye is fine. 26 STITCHES!! Who the fuck glasses people in the face. Despicable.

mum, it wasn’t our fault….bar..glassed my friend….but then the attacker nearly died because he managed to sever an artery in his wrist with one of the shards of glass…police were fine…they knew it wasn’t our fault….we’re all OK…what?…dad’s coming out!….GOOD ONE MUM!….seriously?….it’s all been blown out of proportion…OK I’ll call him….no, of course we’re not all coming home…we’re carrying on…everyone is fine….don’t worry….don’t worry….

Daughter adds but I only vaguely hear her …”this might be a good time to tell you that he’s had an eyebrow piercing mum”….yes, very good time, don’t give a shit, very, very good timing, I will probably care tomorrow, but today (only today), he can cover his entire body in whatever he wants as long as he comes back safely.

Sometimes, I really really hate being a mother. You have to wear your heart on the outside most of the time anyway, but at times like this it’s as if somebody is slicing it up into little bits. I wish there was a way we could protect them all more effectively. “Here is my arm, my son, wear it well, it will protect you against the dark forces”. But you can’t (which is probably a relief because we would both look stupid). You just have to hope and pray to something or someone that they will be looked after and then send up little imaginary cotton wool protectors for them all to wear AT ALL TIMES.

Be safe.
Be safe.
Be safe.

His parents are very good friends of mine who moved back Sydney a long time ago now. I love that we’re going to be able to share our kids as they go global. I’m sure it’s the start of a long line of youths from around the world needing a bed in London (and I’m sure my kids wouldn’t turn down the offer of a bed in Sydney either!). Perhaps I should make it a business. I could open a hostel…..Nope. Bad idea.

Being new to this game it’s a little difficult to know just how to treat them. Should I be taking him out every day sightseeing? Or simply leave him to his own devices? Should I wake him before noon? Involve him in everything that I’m doing? Seduce him? (joke). He hasn’t been a problem at all. Great company in fact. I took him to see my brother and his wife last night. We had a BBQ and although he was meant to go and see some mates, he seemed to be having so much fun he made them join us. Late. By which time we were all talking bollocks about rude and inappropriate things in an effort to show off (felching and Bukkake – sp? pronunciation? were mentioned I recall, as was why my brother chose to wear a minor’s light on his head to cook the meat and so was shagging). Pathetic really. We felt a bit sorry for his friends because all three of them appeared to be relatively sober, until suddenly, just as I was trying to work one of their accents (is it Scottish? Or Australian? Or American?) he discreetly announced he was just popping off down the road for a TC*. Came back and carried on (no then, accent not relevant – just pissed and slurry).

Anyway, I’m not taking my duties too seriously. I suspect my job is simply to ensure that he enjoys himself, doesn’t die and gets on a plane home some time soon. He was previously travelling around Greece on a moped (sadly 3 of his friends had a very bad accident on a quad bike and one is still in hospital with a ruptured liver). He survived the chance of being gored by a bull in Pamplona (is it just Australians and a few locals who are mad enough to do that? Sadly an Aussie died this year I gather) and he has survived arriving in London during the riots.

When his mother and I met all those years ago with our gorgeous little boys, we used to sit and watch them do ballet performances together, play Firemen Sam together, poke each other with sticks and we honestly couldn’t have dreamt that we would be having conversations like the following just a few years (well 14 years) later….

Here is some of the email correspondence I’ve had this week with his mother:-

HER
Hi

How are you? Hope you’re having a nice summer break although I did see that the UK has had some rain recently. Unexpectedly J is booked on a flight to London (Gatwick) and arrives in London tomorrow at 6pm. I don’t know if he has rung you at all but I was wondering if you were around and was there any chance of him staying at your place. Don’t know if that will suit. If not, that’s fine he can book himself into a hostel. He’s due back in Sydney next Wednesday 17TH so his flight must be leaving on Monday 15TH.

Hope he’s not too smelly.

ME

Of course it’s fine. No problem at all. He hasn’t called me but I’m sure he will. Sadly R is not here until Saturday. But I’m sure I can find him some friends to play with in the meantime.

ME
Just to let you know yr son is asleep in R’s bed and safe from the riots – I think his lip pirecing looks cute!!!

HER

Thx so much for letting me know. Glad he’s tucked up safe in your house. I was a
little anxious when I read that Clapham Junction was one of the places hit
and he was having to stop there. And then read that they hit a Restaurant in Notting Hill. It’s unbelievable.

And thanks for that bit about the lip…….I’m sure I’m going to think it’s
cute too……Not!!!!! Just as long as his teeth don’t rot and fall out.
That would be $7000 of Orthodontic work down the drain!

Thanks again.

ME

All good although i have temporarily lost him….

Bought him a razor and a toothbrush and he is looking positively human! We had dinner on Wed night with my Aussie friends and of course they all knew the same people!! R’s girlfriend took him out for a HUGE night after that – right into riot land (although all calm now) in Tottenham Court Road to “Cheapskates”. God. 99p shots I gather and he got in at 4am. We had a brief chat when he got up about midday and then he went to see his mates. He stayed there last night so I am waiting for him to get up and return my text. Not sure what his plans are today but we’ll talk. I am hearing mumblings about an extension on his flight? That is absolutely fine by me if it works for you. He’s just lovely. No problem at all.

Lxx

HER

Thanks for the update and so glad to hear that R’s girlfriend clearly let him astray by
“dragging” him into the middle of riot land…..I bet he’s annoyed he’s only just discovered this place at the end of his journey with shots for 99p. His friends would have loved a place like that. Insider information certainly does help!

I hate to think what he looked like when you first saw him. Was it bum fluff on the chin? And did the piercing fall out while he was shaving??

Thanks for being flexible with him and his plans. Hope he’s not getting in your way at all. And isn’t it a small world with who knows who.

Haven’t heard from him at all so I have assumed he’s been out and about (or asleep).

Will try and call tomorrow. It’s 11pm and I’m going to bed for 3 hours
before I have to get up again to pickup daughter from an “after’s” Party after
their school social. Does that happen in London? For their “formals” they
have “pre’s”, the formal and then “after’s” at someone house. I didn’t even
see her as she got changed at a friend’s house but all I know is that the
dress is ridiculously short and she is wearing 10 inch heels. And then I
have to set the alarm for 6.15am as she has an early netball match. Don’t
think the goals will be going in tomorrow somehow after only 3 hours sleep!

ME

Ha ha – couldn’t see any fluff on his chin – he just mentioned he needed a razor – perhaps for his chest hairs then? I guess it’s a bit difficult to shave around a piercing? Although it’s on his lip – don’t think he’s got hairy lips? – OK will stop thinking about the logistics of that now…

He’s texted so now I’ll just wait another three hours for him to respond to my second text – R’s GF (oddly) very happy to lead him astray again tonight – think they’re going clubbing. He suggested I go with them??? Is he mad??? Tempting though. The local girls are all pretty impressed with the Aussie boys I think.

An “AFTERS” party?? – thats just taking the piss.

He should be here after being out tonight but don’t call before 2pm

ME

He’s still alive…..

R came back late last night so they went out for a bit, but don’t think they got in anywhere as it was all “over 21′s” rule – so came back quite early.

He’s been hoping I would spill the beans on some stories about you guys – the only acceptable one I’ve told him was about our New Year’s eve party in Scotland and about how the men wore kilts and then took photos of their testicles underneath the table!! (Sorry – think I might still have the evidence somewhere).

Not sure of plans in next few days, but he’ll just hang out with R now – we’ll probably do a BBQ here tonight if I can locate my other two children now they’re all back from Portugal.

* TC = Tactical Chunder

He is about to embark on an 3 week tour of “cheap beers” around Europe with five of his friends. The thought of it fills me with horror. In my day, when we all went inter-railing around Europe our parents simply had to wave us off with our rucksacks and hope for the best. Now we have a means of spying on them, of tracking their route. Sort of like giving them a bar code or a little mini camera to put on to their heads. We can check in and even sometimes expect a reply. Now that he’s 18 he has finally added me as a “friend” on Facebook so that I can see what they’re all up to. Initially I was delighted – how wonderful to be able to share in his experience, but I have to say it’s not for the weak hearted and I’m wondering if perhaps it was better for my parents who were blissfully ignorant about what we all got up to. Mostly it’s all rather horrifying and you wish you hadn’t looked…

My friend called me this morning. “OMIGOD, I’ve just had a look at Jack’s photos and I’m quite sure, although his head is turned to the side that it’s not a spot he’s got on his lower lip, IT”S A NEW PIERCING! I’m going to kill him.” I too discovered that my son had allowed himself to be branded with yet another tattoo whilst on holiday recently in Cyprus. Then you have to look at photos of them behaving badly in nightclubs and dancing on tables – “who ARE all those people he’s with?” I constantly think to myself.

Still, it’s a brave new world out there and we might as well get on it with them and I guess it’s reassuring to know they’re still alive.

What do you think?