Herself had her oral Irish exam before finishing school the other week. She found it trying. The teacher asked whether she had any siblings. She said that she had two brothers. The teacher asked whether they all got on. Herself said that her brothers could be annoying; the teacher asked how. And, as she said to me, “Mum, I knew when I was trying to say ‘fart gun’ in Irish, I was doomed.”
Yes, the fart gun continues to be much loved by Michael, why do you ask?
Herself was returned to us last Wednesday after a wonderful week in London. Her aunt and uncle were very kind and she had all manner of treats and excitement including a trip to the ballet to see Swan Lake which she absolutely loved.
Although the weather was a bit mixed.
She was due to arrive back on Wednesday at 5 but her flight was delayed unbeknownst to me. I was stuck a bit late at work and rang Mr. Waffle to see whether our heroine had returned. “No,” he said, “and I am at the airport, so who is going to be home at 6.30 to relieve the childminder?” I flew home like the wind calling the childminder to tell her that I was going to be late. No answer. I rang the land line at home. Daniel answered.
Me: Hi sweetie, can I speak to K (childminder)?
Him: Yes, but do you want to know my news?
Me: Yes, of course, but can I speak to K first?
Him: It is interesting news.
Me: OK, sweetie, tell me your news first.
Him: When we came home from school the hall was full of blood and feathers.
Me: Oh God.
Him (with relish): Yes, and we found a dead pigeon in the corner of the drawing room.
Me (yelping): Oh God.
Him: Yes, and it’s still there.
Me: What??
Him: Yes, K has a phobia of birds (really, really is this a thing?). Michael and I locked the cat into the utility room. I hoovered up the feathers in the hall and Michael mopped up the blood. K showed us how to turn on the hoover from the kitchen. But we were too scared to deal with the body.
Me: OK, I’ll deal with it when I get home.
Return to the house. I readied myself with a shoe-box and a plastic bag. I went into the drawing room to see feathers, blood:
and a corpse in the corner:
I ran out again. Maybe not my finest hour [Daniel took the photo above]. Then the phone rang. It was Mr. Waffle. Herself had returned and they were wondering could they get a lift from the airport. Absolutely. I sped out, leaving the boys at home on corpse watch.
I picked Mr. Waffle and herself up outside the airport.
Me (to daughter): Welcome home my darling, did you miss us?
Herself: Um, no but I did have an amazing time.
Me (to husband): I have slightly unwelcome pigeon news.
On his return, he disposed of the corpse. What a man. Glad to have our firstborn back and despite herself, I think she might be a little glad too. And she brought us all presents.
Is it true, Hodge, does nothing taste as good as thin feels?
The Princess has been enjoying herself of late. At the end of year prize-giving extravaganza at school she won the best student of her year and all round best student in the school. She read at the end of term mass. She has been re-selected for the student council next year. Her poem has featured in the annual school magazine. She has just got notification that her school tour next February will take her to Paris and Brussels [she is keen to go]. She has joined the games club; she was told to read the rules in advance and, being her, she did. She was therefore able to wipe the floor with the boys in the club who had not done so (she is their first female member) and, as she said happily, “I just kept throwing double sixes”.
A big parcel arrived at the door for her. It contained extensive Disney merchandise for the film “The Jungle Book”. As we looked at the anorak, the chair, the lamp, the torch, the water bottle, the poster and sundry other items, I asked, “Why on earth did you get this?” “Remember,” she said, “there was that “Jungle Book” competition in the library and Michael and I entered; I must have won. You had to say what kind of animal Baloo was. I didn’t know, actually, Michael told me.”
Her three month summer is shaping up nicely. She will spend a week in London with her saintly aunt and uncle and she is going on an exchange to Paris. One of her friends’ mothers, who is a saint, has said that she is going to try to devise an arts programme for her daughter and friends over the summer.
Meanwhile, we have booked her brothers into a sports camp for a week in July. They are feeling a little hard done by.
Until last month, the boys always did their homework together downstairs but now I see that they haul their schoolbags upstairs and do it in their rooms. I am not sure whether this is the next stage of development or whether the new childminder is taking very much to heart my injunction to her to speak to them in French.
I suppose whether or which, they probably both need desks in their rooms.
Michael received a letter from scouts to bring home to us. It opened with the words “Your child has reached the required age to attend Hogwarts Camp of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Unfortunately, my child can’t attend because I have already booked and paid for us to go away on the weekend in question. Am I the only parent to stop her child attending Hogwarts?
Michael’s scout troop had a mild parade to the church and back on St. Patrick’s Day. While it can’t be said that Michael regarded his trip to mass with any great enthusiasm, he attended with a greater degree of resignation than is typical and he brought up shamrock to the altar as part of the service.
The militaristic aspect of the scouts was strongly in evidence with a commanding officer shouting out instructions in army Irish (less intelligible than the other strongest Irish dialect – school Irish). Some of the troops marched with their hands in their pockets so clearly work to be done. Back in the scout hall, a former scout who is now something lofty in the Irish army presented a flag and spoke of his experience as a scout many years previously. Again, Michael bore it all with fortitude.
The Monday after Patrick’s Day, he had his reward. He got his first badge. He had to climb a mountain (covered some weeks previously) but he also had to write an account of it. I was astonished to see that he knuckled down and did it without any nagging (no nagging because we had forgotten, alas) and on submission, got his badge. Hurrah!