Hopes a hippy trail scuppered by a son's academic aspirations

TWILIGHT years and thoughts were beginning to drift towards early retirement. Maybe I could buy a camper van and hit the hippie trail that we never got to do in the 1960s, I suggested to the partner.

Maybe I could travel to Morocco and smoke the dope that everyone accuses me of doing, but which I never did. Maybe I could sell up and buy a cottage in Clare. Maybe I could buy a B&B in West Cork. Maybe I could make goats cheese in Allihies. Maybe I could live on a beach on Goa. Maybe I could join the ladies who lunch. Maybe I could become a tour guide for SAGA (holidays for the over 55s). Maybe I could go back to college and get a degree.

I was having such fun - plotting, planning and day dreaming... when the bombshell hit. The youngest son, whom I had given up all hope of educating, said he had reapplied to the CAO and was awaiting an offer. Waves of relief and resentment hit me simultaneously.

Well, the relief was obvious. This was the guy who had spent some months in a very prestigious bastion of learning and was bored.

Yep, that's what he told me when he packed up and hit New York on a J1 cultural exchange programme.

I must admit I found it hard to find the cultural input of him working in the Molly Malone bar in the Bronx, but that was me being resentful.

Then he went to Berlin and, as far as I can ascertain, never got any further than The Oscar Wilde pub. Oh dear, I do sound resentful, don't I? Prague, too, had to be visited and Edinburgh for the arts festival.

But now he was mature and realised that he needed some sort of qualification other than his Leaving Cert. And I thought - at least he won't be hanging around when I am in the bath chair.

Oh, God, another panic attack - he'll be back to live at home. Loud music, television on incessantly, endless cooking, phone bill mounting, had just about got used to the idea when there was another bombshell. He had been offered a place in Galway - I live in Dublin. So now what, I thought.

His earnest personna was on display. "I'll pay the fees, but could you help me out with living" he asked. "Then when I get into second year, fees will be abolished and I will probably get a maintenance grant." So we sat down with pen and paper to work out a living allowance.

"I think it would be best if I could have my own room in a house and meals provided so that I can give my studies my all," he said.

"And I will need money for books, and oh yes, a bag to carry the books. I think I should keep in touch with everyone in Dublin, so I'll need to come back once a month. And actually I don't have any winter clothes and I need shoes and underwear."

I decided to ring the tax office. A really nice person went to endless trouble but came back to me with the news that my son would get tax relief when he paid his fees, but no, sorry, I could get no tax relief on him. Covenants were abolished a few years ago and that would have encompassed my problem. Life is hard.

So, back I go to plotting, planning and day dreaming.