DON’T get me wrong, I really miss Jack when he’s away at university. I worry about whether he’s eating enough, well enough, warm enough, happy enough. I look forward to having him home again, counting the days until the holidays.

And then he comes home – and all those “absence makes the heart grow fonder” feelings quickly evaporate.

For the first couple of days, I can overlook the fact that I can’t get in the bathroom because he’s in there, clogging it up. I can forgive him for leaving his clothes all over the floor and piles of dishes in the kitchen. I don’t even mind that much when he needs a lift into town, or back again.

But it doesn’t take long for me to be looking forward to the new academic term starting. One minute, it’s great to have him back. The next minute, it grates to have him back.

“How long are you going to be here for?” I asked through the locked bathroom door – and gritted teeth – the other day.

“Til October,” he replied, though I could barely hear him over the hairdryer.

For a second, I thought he meant that’s how long he’d be in the bathroom, but he was talking about going back to university.

October? I can’t last until October.

What ever happened to the holidays coming to an end in September? Is it just me who gets the feeling that tuition fees are going up at the same rate that the time they actually spend getting taught at university is coming down?

My patience really started to wear thin last week when I’d just got into bed at 11.45pm and there was a text from Jack. “Don’t suppose anyone can pick me up?”

He was at his girlfriend’s house four miles away. I know what you’re thinking – tell him to walk home like you used to in the name of love in your day.

Yes, yes – I know that’s what I should have said. But it doesn’t happen, does it? I set off in the car, cursing at being taken for granted, knowing that if I hadn’t gone, his Mum would have driven over there and I’d have been made to feel guilty all night.

The next day, I was in a management meeting at work, talking about budgets and heavy stuff like that.

My phone was on silent but it vibrated with a text. I checked it under the table, out of sight of the boss, and I could see it was from Jack.

“Sorry, but do you think you could come to the tennis club in the next few minutes?”

Now, this is Jack – the accident prone one who once got his friend’s coat-button stuck up his nose and had to go to hospital – so I instinctively began imagining what had gone wrong.

“Why? What’s happened?” I texted back.

“I’ve broken a string and need to borrow a racquet,” came the reply.

It was at that moment that the managing director asked my opinion on the budget and the likely impact of the latest economic trends.

I’m not really sure of the exact words I managed to string together, but let’s just say they weren’t very impressive.

Like I said at the beginning, I really miss Jack when he’s away at university.

But at that very moment I felt like making my excuses, driving to the tennis club, and breaking a few more strings – over his head.

The things they say

  • CHRIS Stewart, the BBC’s chief reporter in the North-East, told me how Calum, 23 now but three at the time, had smeared the window with his muddy football. “Oops, I’m in trouble now – it’s left a bruise.”
  • GREEDYBEAT on Twitter: “On witnessing two people kissing, a little girl said: “That man is whispering in that woman’s mouth.”
  • DENNIS Parkinson on Twitter... Daughter to granddaughter: “You’d better brighten up you ideas.”
  • Granddaughter’s reply: “To be honest, I don’t have any ideas.’’ JULIE on Twitter: “Someone told me their son had worked out what dads are for – to hold the hand of mummies while they’re having babies.”