Saturday morning (probably like most people's) is a time of restructuring the house, family etc after a week of work and travel and learning — depending on age of the family members.
Ezra is at Lycee, half an hour away — long days getting up at 5.30 (all of us) lots to take in during week and all the usual questions a sixteen year old is asking themselves, one of which is, er, what should I do in life?
This is causing much brow-furrowing and temper; combined with my own 'older woman' brow-furrowing and swearing, the house can be quite resonant with sound (apart from all the noise Mark makes).
A mouldy silence hung over the breakfast table when all the shouting had been done and I decided action had to be taken as even a brief suggestion of raising the weekly allowance didn't seem to be having any effect.
In the long lost past, Star Charts would have been drawn up — if you do this, you will get a gold star — room clearing, washing in basket, eating cooked carrots etc; of course non of this now applies.
We went for a walk.
I remember hearing a report on the radio recently about walking, (one of those Scientific reports, usually carried out in Scandinavia somewhere) They, whoever they are, had worked out after some years of research and much financial input, that walking is good for you . . . not just physically, but mentally. Er, excuse me I could have told you that for about thirty-five euros over a cup of tea (herbal).
The residual anger faded as we observed nature doing things well in advance of when it should be doing things — thrusting leaves, blossom, birds tweeting manically, etc —and spoke of electronics, housework and yes, the question . . . what does he want to do in life?
That question isn't much further on in answer, but we did get back to the house realising that we did still all like each other; that some jobs, such as Cleaning The Fish Out could be dealt with, and Ezra would make lunch . . . brilliant.
I'm sure it'll all deteriorate fairy quickly, but it's just good to know that he can make an excellent fish stew, and has realised that offering to get everyone else a glass/plate/cup of tea, makes us strangely happy, and a lot less shouty.