Clapton_ The Autobiography - Eric Clapton [156]
The following day we got on the plane and flew home; everyone was really excited, and I personally couldn’t wait to crash on the big couch in our front room and have a nap. I had been watching the weather on my computer, and while everywhere else in the world seemed to be having snow and rain and stormy weather, England was enjoying a warm and sunny spring. Needless to say, I had already planned to go fishing the first Saturday after we got home, along with doing absolutely nothing, or at least trying to. It was what I had been dreaming of all year. The trip was painless and uneventful, the kids slept throughout the flight, no luggage was lost, and Cedric and Cecil were there to meet us and drive us home.
Something about the drive to our house in Surrey never fails to move me. I’m sure everyone feels that way about going home after a long trip, but this is really special. The last mile is spectacular, going through the beautiful Surrey hills, finally resolving in a short drive through high rhododendron bushes, before the house itself appears. There’s no doubt that the building itself is imposing, but not in a frightening way. It just seems to have a personality of its own, so that it welcomes you, even when it is empty. That’s exactly how it was on that day. We walked through the door, and a great weight seemed to be lifted off of us, as if to say, The time for rest has begun. In a short while, our English nanny, Annie, was cooking lunch, Melia and the kids were in the playroom, rediscovering their toys, and I was upstairs, hurriedly unpacking, desperately trying to put the road and its various duties behind me.
I’m so glad that my family loves it here as much as I do. It provides the foundation for our life together in the physical sense. I know we can find a way to be happy wherever we are, but this place seems to have special meaning for all of us, and I hope it will always be this way. I have no intention of going anywhere for a little while, and can’t wait for my home life to reestablish its normal routines, like going for walks up in the hills, feeding Gordon the pig, and just generally lolling around.
I have been trying to retire all my life, constantly vowing to give up the road and just stay at home, and maybe one day I will be forced to do that for one reason or another. For now, I will leave the door open, and maybe that will make it easier for me to stay inside—a kind of reverse psychology, but who knows? All I am certain of right now is that I don’t want to go anywhere, and that’s not bad for someone who always used to run.
EPILOGUE
The last ten years have been the best of my life. They have been filled with love and a deep sense of satisfaction, not because of what I feel I have achieved, but more because of what has been bestowed on me. I have a loving family at my side, a past I am no longer ashamed of, and a future that promises to be full of love and laughter. I feel really fortunate to be able to say this, for I’m fully aware that, for a lot of people, approaching old age represents the end of all things pleasurable, the gradual onset of infirmity and senility, and regret for a life unfulfilled. Maybe I will eventually feel the grip of fear as I view my final years, but right now I am very happy, and I feel that way a lot of the time. The only time I get really disgruntled is when I’m working and I don’t feel I have the capacity to deliver the goods, usually because I’m ill or overtired. That’s the perfectionist in me and it’s always been like that. If I have any real qualms about the future, it is for my children. It grieves me to think that they may lose their father