Monday, Aug 3, 1998
We all go to the airport in the van and Drew, who feels deeply, is sorry to see me go. I return in time for a phone call from Grandma, who’s evidently recovered from whatever made her leave so fast last week. We have a very nice chat. Mum says that after one particularly vivid back seat exchange (they were trying the old ignore-them technique), Drew wailed, “how can I make you see my terror?!”.