BECKY SHEAVES

All of a sudden, it was January 2024 and we were rattling around the farmhouse on our own... not helped by the fact that it never stopped raining

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THE empty nest is getting a fair bit easier to bear, I must admit. When it first happened, temporarily, almost two years ago, I was completely sideswiped by how awful it felt to be living here at the farm with just the two of us, myself and my husband.

Back then, my older son had been at university for a year when my younger one headed off to Vietnam and Thailand for a gap year adventure. All of a sudden, it was January 2024 (remember the weather that winter?) and we were rattling around the farmhouse on our own. It was a heck of a shock, I can tell you. Not helped by the fact that it never stopped raining. I really didn’t know what to do with myself. There didn’t seem to be any point making dinner with only us two to eat it. The house was so quiet, so boring.

The problem was compounded, I believe, by the fact that John and I had always had lots of children around. When we first met, in 2002, I had a nine-month-old (long story, let’s just say it didn’t work out with the father). John had four children, aged between ten and 18, living with him full-time (another long story). Within a couple of years we had married and added another child, bringing the total of our offspring up to six.