Carol’s Column

Why didn’t I do this all before?

"Look at it this way," said my husband when my second son departed for London to continue his studies and I wept copious tears. "You're losing a son and gaining a room."

Which is small consolation for a bereft mother.

"I will not move a thing from Ralph's room," I proclaimed. "I want everything to remain exactly the same so that when the kids come home they know their rooms are ready and waiting."

"The smelly socks? You're going to leave the smelly socks?" enquired my husband.

"Everything," I snapped. "I want the ambience to be the same on his return."

"The half-eaten toasted sandwich? The cup of coffee with the dregs? You're surely not thinking of leaving them for another year?"

"You're diminishing my son's birthright," I screeched. "That room remains as it is. It's Ralph's, filled with his presence and I want it to remain that way."

"Well, then what about Barry's room?" said my husband. "He's been away for nearly two years. Why don't you move your sewing machine in there?"

"Why? What's wrong with the diningroom table?"

"Nothing, except it's ridiculous to continue eating on our laps when we have a perfectly good diningroom table that we could use, were it not cluttered up with your sewing machine, Jamie's aeroplane engine and Nicky's elephants."

"Nicky's classifying her elephants, she needs the space to set out her collection."

"But it's taken her six years and she's only classified the first 100," said my spouse tetchily. Men tetch when thwarted.

"Things will stay as they are," I stated sturdily.

That was on Monday. On Tuesday, I re-surveyed Ralph's room. The sunlight beamed directly on to his desk with its bits of guitar and photographic equipment.

True, I thought. That's a perfect place for my sewing machine, and the dressmaker's dummy will fit just nicely between the bed and the bookcase.

It took me four hours to clear Ralph's bedroom and store his junk in the spare room. However, I was meticulous in moving things exactly as they were. Even the half-eaten toasted sandwich found its own place in the sun.

I was delighted with my new sewing room. And then it occurred to me that Barry's room would make a perfect study.

It wasn't easy fitting his belongings in with Ralph's. What with Barry's weight-lifting gear, the do-it-yourself gym, the stretch machine, the swimming boards, the Matchbox cars and Lego blocks, it was a squash. But, when I moved my computer, books and papers into his now empty bedroom, I couldn't imagine how I'd managed without this extra space.

The sun shone hot and Thursday was a summer-sandal day. I pulled down the suitcases containing my summer wardrobe and began packing away my winter clothes. Then I thought why move into a suitcase when there was Jamie's bedroom?

Filled with model aeroplanes, bits of motor car engine, sail boards, electrical sets and tools, it took a little longer to clear. But, when I'd transferred my clothes, wigs, spare contact lenses, shoes, spectacles, handbags and hairdryer, it made a perfect dressing room and I wondered why I hadn't done this years ago.

Only yesterday, as I made the bed, the absurdity of the situation struck me. Here I am, crowded into a room with a man who objects to my snoring, switching on the bedside light to read and says my bedtime apple crunching keeps him awake.

It seemed foolish to waste Nicky's room which is why, when she arrives on vacation from UCT, she'll find she's quite comfortable in the garage. There wasn't room in the spare room for her paraphernalia.

They say marriage is a growing experience.

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