Hmm... time to chain myself to computer and work through the list and buy some nonsense for chums and children. PJs, books, tech, wine... All good. No point in skimping, as a wise pt told me "It's not a rehearsal"
Must try not to omit anyone from the list.
Thursday, 22 November 2012
It seems like a ritual that could be recorded by Attenborough or an anthropology post grad fresh out of ideas. The smell of school, chalk, bags, cheap paper, cheap perfume and hormones.
Park, run up stairs, our tired features assaulted by strip-lighting. Rows of stools outside the Chemistry lab for parents; big improvement on teeny chairs from Primary School.
Our lovely boy is seen by many others as lovely it seems. Gratified but envious of these teachers that get to share time with him, we drift between classes, trying not to look too relaxed in case other parents realise that our son is so superior to theirs.
Delicious tho' this is, there is sadness brought on by the depletion of vigour in my husband that I am trying, unsuccessfully, to ignore.
We swoop through rainy lanes to the glow of home. Mutton, roast potatoes and mushrooms, buttery broccoli scent the kitchen and we all gather round and munch and laugh.
Eat, drink and be merry...