Our own wild years still don’t make mums worry any less

So here’s the thing. When The Student goes off on her holibags with her fella, I still do all the usual worrying before and during their trip. My regular reader may recall my agonies last year when she went on her end-of-school trip with her pals and, even though she’s been living away from home since then, my worries don’t seem to have lessened.

Even as I’m telling myself she’s a grown-up now and I must keep my paranoia and over-protectiveness to myself, I cant help thinking of worst-case scenarios.

Then I remember my own years as a young adult and remind myself that my parents never had the opportunities we have to monitor our children round the clock.

I recall setting off for a six-month training course, several hundred miles from home as soon as I’d finished school. Every few weeks if a) I had enough change for the phone box on the corner; b) I remembered I had a family or c) I had a few minutes in between nonstop partying, I’d call home.

“Hello darling. Are you eating well?”

“Yes”. (Existing entirely on cheap wine, cigarettes and crisps). “Are you studying hard?” “Yes.” (When I’m not out partying till the early hours. Which is most nights).

And that was it – no real details given or requested. In between, there were no texts or emails as the worldwide web had not yet been invented. I would occasionally send a letter (Kids, ask your parents or grandparents) home and would receive a reply.

In later years, I travelled on my own abroad a fair bit and can vividly remember a few occasions where it struck me that no one knew where I was or had any way of getting hold of me. That was just how things were. Maybe my parents went through agonies worrying about me, but I don’t think so.

All of which has convinced me to rein in the fretting and lay off The Student if I haven’t had a text for two days. It hasn’t stopped me worrying though.