Page 23in this latest piece of research. The
gaping hole they left eventually
turned into a wonderful creative
space, to use as I choose. I could
throw myself wholeheartedly into
work, or whatever else I chose.
But perhaps the best thing is
that I feel closer to my children
now, even though I see them less.
When they first left, I was terrified
that they would only come home
out of duty: it was surely no coinci-
dence that they all chose universi-
ties as far from home as possible.
But university is a weaning
period, which allows parents and
children to develop a new, grown-
ups-together kind of relationship.
Self-sufficient children make
their parents happy because
they’re good company.I’m free to dance
round in my undies
Aggie MacKenzie, TV presenter.
I’ve had a completely empty nestnow for almost two-
and-a-half years, since
I moved into my cur-
rent home and I’d be
lying if I said I don’t
relish that. Not hav-
ing to cook
gargantuan meals or tidy up after
two boys is certainly liberating.
But the real treat has been the
opportunity to pursue an active
sex life again!
When I first split from Matthew,
the father of my sons Rory, now 28,
and ewan, 24, a decade ago, I
thought I’d never have a sexual
relationship again. I couldn’t see
how it could work with two other
men living under the same roof.
No one really wants to flaunt
their sexuality in their children’s
faces. Can you imagine trying to
date with grown-up children still
living at home?
So while it was a bittersweet
moment when they left — Rory to
live with his girlfriend, ewan, with
his father — it was something of a
rebirth for me.I now have what I call a ‘sort-of
boyfriend’, a financier who works
abroad a lot. Now I’m free to dance
around in my undies when I’m
getting ready for a date, and I can
come in at any hour I want with-
out any disapproving comments.
Instead, when I do see my sons,
usually once a week, we enjoy one
another’s company, without the
rows that used to be a feature
when they lived at home.
Both boys work as chefs, so
they’ll come round on a Sunday
and cook for me. They usually tell
me to concentrate on pouring
drinks, and take over the kitchen.
Better still, they tidy up after
themselves — something they
never did when they lived here!Meet him off the
plane? He’s 40!
Ray Connolly,
writer and author.
The happiest times
in this father’s life
were when his chil-
dren were little. Yes,
it was murderously
busy sometimes, but the day-to-
day joy they brought never leaves.
I managed to keep ours at home
until they were in their mid to late
20s. When they did go, I pleaded
with each to reconsider. They were,
and still are, my best friends.
Years after our third child,
Kieron, had left home, he went to
Israel on holiday, and was, I knew,
due back on a certain flight.
I checked on its arrival time, and
found to my dismay it had been
delayed and he would not arrive at
Luton Airport until about 1.30am.
how would Kieron get to where
he lived in North London at that
time of night? he’d probably have
to wait hours for a bus or a train.
There was nothing for it but to go
and meet him off the plane.
‘You’ve gone mad,’ Plum, my wife
said, when I told her where I was
going. ‘It’s nearly 50 miles!’
‘I don’t mind the drive. he’ll be
pleased to see me.’
‘he might not. Ray, he’s nearly 40.’
‘So?’
‘What if he’s met someone inIsrael or on the plane? The last
person he’ll want to see as he
comes through arrivals with a new
girlfriend is his dad waiting to take
him home?’
I didn’t go. But in truth, children
are always children to a parent no
matter how old they are.It was a hammer
blow to the heart
Linda Kelsey,
former editor of
Cosmopolitan
magazine.
The nest was small
— but cosy, and big
enough for three.
even when the cute chick grew
into a tall, gangly adolescent who
used the spare room for band
practice, I don’t think I experi-
enced a moment when I looked
forward to having my son out of
the house.
The day I waved him through
departures, aged 18, as he flew off
on his gap year to Western
Australia, herding sheep on a quad
bike, I felt utterly bereft.
Call me a wimp — my husband
lost patience by the time I’d been
crying practically non-stop for 48
hours — but his departure was a
hammer-blow to the heart.
I got used to it, and I was pleased
for Thomas that he was striking
out with a big adventure, but
contrary to the survey findings, for
me the joy of being a mother, and
having my son close to hand, was
the biggest joy of my life.
There was nothing liberating for
me about his departure, not even
freedom from having to do his
laundry could raise a smile.
Over the years as Thomas came
(home for holidays during
university years) and went (a year
working in Spain as part of his
course), for me the best times
were always when he re-entered
the nest.
I was busy writing books, had a
great social life and was embark-
ing on a new relationship after the
breakdown of my marriage. But I
made it clear to my new partner
that if Thomas should need, orwant, to come back, there would
always be a room waiting for him.I missed their
lovable life force
Angela Neustatter,
psychologist and
writer.
MY NeWeST grand-
daughter, Laylah,
two, walks on wobbly
legs, arms out-
stretched. A few hours in her
company is pure delight. As it is
with our other two grandchildren
— Nina, eight, and Si, five — who
live with their parents in the
flat below.
I loved being a mother, in
theory, but the reality as one
who worked and believed in
spending a good dollop of time
with my kids, was too often like
living in a food processor with no
pause button.
So I can understand that some
parents are happiest when their
children leave home. even so, as
ours left home, I missed their
lovable life force.
I had not thought about being a
grandmother, so the delight, the
vivacity, the swelling love grand-
children have delivered to us is a
wonderful and new kind of love.
It is undiluted by worrying about
setting boundaries, managing
conflict, worrying where they are,
and whether we equipped them to
be decent people.
We enjoyed the freedom and
spasmodic visits with our boys
when they had gone, but life was
almost too undisturbed. That all
changed when my son and his wife
moved in to the flat below us, with
their newborn.
From tiny bundles upwards, she
and brother Si have been constant
visitors creating a mess, wrapping
themselves into our arms for story
time and dazzling us with their
sharpness and humour.
It makes me realise children
mark your younger life with
fierce protective, demanding
love — and grandchildren make
sense of later life with a new over-
whelming love.Daily Mail, Wednesday, August 21, 2019Are you
kidding?
We’ve
broken
out the
bubbly!
we only appreciate
they’ve left home?
wildly different
which side you’re on