The pleasant life at Richmond had other dark moments. At Christmas, 1953, I was waiting to go into hospital again for a serious operation and my wife and household were all down with flu. My son and his wife decided that, as she said, they were 'tired of children'. After Christmas dinner with the children and me, they left, taking the remainder of the food, but leaving the children, and did not return. We were fond of the children, but were appalled by this fresh responsibility which posed so many harassing questions in the midst of our happy and already very full life.
Source: he Autobiography of Bertrand Russell, v.3
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