What do you do when your youngest informs you calmly and without any  that she plans to take an Au-pair job in Holland, leaving you all alone in the big house?

You either:
a. Rage and storm and forbid her to go, and lose her for ever.
b. Go into a decline and become a sorry soul who irritates the heck out of all.
c. You flee the empty nest, go out into the world, and LIVE!

I opted for the last option, and eleven years later I am still all over the world, with not a moment to be lonely or bored!
When first informed of my girl's plans I was devastated, locked myself in the bathroom, screamed into a rolled-up towel, cried a deliciously self pitied cry, and when Trienkie knocked on the door to hear why I took so long, I was relatively calm.
While in the bathroom I had visions of some of my friends and family who had little contact with their offspring because they would not let go. So I gave a wide if wintry smile, and assured my worried looking child that all was fine, no problem, and I was very happy for her.
On taking her to the agents who do the placings, I was thrown into a bit of a fluster when the agent asked me if I would not like a nanny job in Greece, but I pulled myself together and said that I would have a good think about it.
At that point in time I was tie-dyeing viscose, making clothes, and selling it at Greenpoint stadium, so I was free to do what I wished to do.
So two months after Trienkie left, I was on the plain to Greece.
It was not a smooth passage to my actually boarding the plane, as I was going as a sea-woman to make it legal, and the people I was to work for had a huge yacht, on which we were to spend a lot of time. The agent informed me that my visa was in Capetown, so off I went with my overweight suitcase and a bouncing heart, just to be told that there was nothing for me at the Greek offices. Then started a criss-cross of communication, and from Greece we were assured that the stuff was indeed waiting for me.
For four days I was up and down from my not too cheap hotel to the Embassy, but all in vain! Then, on the day that I was to fly off, the agent told me to get my backside to the Capetown airport, fly to Johannesburg, then find a way to get to the Embassy in Pretoria, get the visa, and be back for my Olympic flight at eight thirty.
I hyperventilated!
But I nevertheless flew through the streets of the mother city to where I had left my luggage, then found a nice, greasy taxi driver who pledged to get me to the airport in twenty minutes.And he did. I just closed my eyes and prayed, bur I was in time for the flight.