Hurrah!

The summer holidays finally came to an end this morning (sigh), when at last, we successfully prized the school gates back open. Dulwich parents were truly running out of ways to occupy our super intelligent progeny! I have coaxed the poppets up the Eiffel Tower by describing it as an enormous play frame for the last time – shame there was no slide at the top as promised. Who knew? They won’t fall for that trick again.

We sent them camping in Antrim, to admire the basalt column rock formations with my mother – well it rains there, doesn’t it sweetie? Moisture plays havoc with my hair.

They had fun. I can’t do everything with them, can I?… I am a working mother (pouts).

So, this morning my perfect angel set off for her first full day at big girl school…OHMYGOD! I have been preparing for months! No expense has been spared (smirk).

I had considered strapping a horse box to the back of the Range Rover and dressing from head to toe in Barbour (indicating old money), cladding the outside of the car with bicycles and canoes (implying a sporty family) – but exercise really isn’t me… Then a jet ski, too blingtastic? Do you think? – Holy hell! How to set the right tone. If you think deeply about things, as I do, you want to give your poppet just the right start, it was agonising!

In the end, my seven year old baby girl insisted on traveling to school by scooter – DAMN (stomps foot)! I am in complete agony (whimper). I don’t do flat shoes and I walked at least a mile in my new 3 inch patent wedges. When we arrived at the school, we were surrounded by 17 year old pupils, with skorts no bigger than my baby’s!!!

I almost inhaled my own vomit!

James commented that the expense of the “skorts” had all been worthwhile, as Freya will never ever require a new one. Skorts are not skirts, said with a posh accent you know, they are skirts and shorts integrated! If you ask me, some of the long limbed and pert teenage girls we saw this morning should have their skorts sewn onto their vests for good measure!

I refuse to allow my baby to become a teenager, and if she does, there is always boarding school.

My poppets had NEVER been to MacDonalds before this summer, and then I asked my mother to help me to look after my poppets while I work (sigh).

THREE TIMES IN ONE WEEK!!! It’s a tad too often, don’t you agree?

This burger is 4 years old.

Join me and boycott this poison factory (stomps foot).