AIDA AUSTIN

AIDA AUSTIN: It’s happening already. My holiday expectations drop from 50 to 40

THURSDAY evening and I am just two sleeps away from the holiday of a lifetime: Greek islands! On a boat! Hurrah!!

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AIDA AUSTIN: "I like my bag the way it is, I consider, stuffed full of hopes and expectations"

SUNDAY, 11pm. Home, in bed.
“You keep staring into space,” my husband says, rustling the sports pages.
“It’s unnerving. Where’s your book?” 

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AIDA AUSTIN: You might like to eat the bread first, before the mussels, while you are still alive to enjoy it

SUNDAY, 7pm. The sun is still shining and my husband and I are making impromptu plans for the evening: short coastal walk, swim and a meal out in a newly-opened restaurant.

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AIDA AUSTIN: 'The truth is the more my daughter reads about Tragics, the more I identify with them'

Friday night, and my eldest daughter is home before leaving soon to do a master’s in cognitive neuropsychology at Edinburgh.

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AIDA AUSTIN: God knows how women manage to have hot flushes in Ireland. They should be so lucky — all that rain and cold

MONDAY morning, and I have the house phone to hand when it rings.

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AIDA AUSTIN: 'Nothing bar an act of God can stop us from boarding that aircraft'

Saturday, 7pm, London.
Due to work commitments, my husband must fly home tomorrow. My daughter and I, however, do not need to return until the following day.

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AIDA AUSTIN: The odds for mutual parental enjoyment are not looking good

11am, London.
Yesterday, it was my eldest son’s task to find entertainment for his parents.

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AIDA AUSTIN: 'Tomayto, tomato....ongoing search for common ground'

Friday evening, London — and my eldest son is discussing the provisions he has made for our entertainment this weekend.

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AIDA AUSTIN: I shall be staying far away from this place, out of harm’s way. Safe from insult on my birthday.

1pm. I am upstairs in the Emporium, lying underneath a table, working on its legs.

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