The chickens are coming

Well the day has finally arrived. I have been dreaming about it for nights now it is here.

Our first visitors from England, our youngest Son and his partner Paul will be arriving this afternoon. We have a French lesson to get through this morning then it is off to the airport, not sure our concentration level will be that high today.

We are taking the trusty Proton Diva to the airport where we shall leave it for the week as we have hired a people carrier as our other Son and girlfriend and her two daughters will be arriving tomorrow.

We are eagerly milling around the airport in excited anticipation, the people finally start to come through the arrivals hall. I spot my Son and instantly I am reduced to a blubbering wreck, much to the amusement of my husband which still to this day cannot understand how a woman can one second can be standing quite composed and the next be oozing a great abundance of tears. Any Mum’s who have not seen their children for a number of weeks will probably be reaching for their hankies as they read this in sympathetic unison.

What seems like an agonising wait which was probably only a few minutes before they come through with their bags before I could throw my arms around his neck and have a real proper sob, there is one thing to stand snivelling on your own, it does make people stare, but when you have your arms planted firmly around some ones neck it somehow makes it alright. Funny that, it seems to give it some sort of credibility.

Tearful greeting over, we head back to our apartment for a much needed catch up on the news from home. Only to here my Husband utter “another chicken run tomorrow then”. I should explain as a Mother hen the children in our house are known affectionately as our chickens, albeit they stand 6ft something and tower above me.