Spring

Posted by dulwichmum on Fri 2 March 2007

I left my darling chicks this fine bright morning rather earlier than usual. I had a full day of interviewing potential graduate trainees ahead of me.

There they lay on the carpet, having finished their wholemeal bagels and milk, and leafing through the latest copy of the Mini Boden catalogue, selecting their Spring wardrobe. Max wants every t-shirt that has a shark on the front (three) and Freya will not be wearing skirts or dresses. That is the life………. They really are a lucky pair, I would love not to work sometimes.

‘Have you brushed your teeth?‘ I asked, before I ran out the door. I received no reply. Even now they look at me as though I am silly when I ask them the most sensible questions. ‘Ana will take care of that’, I thought and left. I am so lucky with my wonderful au pair.

My mother came for lunch on Sunday, and so I had the time to read again through the application forms to prepare for today. Mother asked:

‘You won’t employ anyone with a ‘first’ – surely?’

‘Well, I would hope so’, I replied. ‘We have some very strong candidates here, several firsts from Oxbridge actually’.

‘No, you can’t employ a first, and certainly not from Oxbridge – that would be such a mistake’, – she insisted.

‘Whatever are you talking about mother?’ I snapped.

‘Some chap gets a first from Oxbridge – well he is too studious – clearly, he would have Asbergers! He has not been in the students union bar even once, and he certainly will not have had the time for sport or being a member of the debating society now will he? He is not a team player, can’t co-operate with others, no communication skills at all.’

‘I can see where you are coming from mother, but where are you gaining your insight from?’ I asked sarcastically (she hasn’t worked outside the home since 1963).

‘I wouldn’t even interview someone with a 3rd, she insisted, or a 2:2, but a 2:1 – an all rounder I would say, from a red brick university, but not from Oxbridge – those people are born with silver spoons – and they expect the world owes them a living,’ she insisted most authoritatively.

Has she been listening to Radio 3 again? Perhaps she has been reading a newspaper instead of The Daily Mail, or talking to her crazy next door neighbour Mrs Jones? My mother will always treat me as though I am a small child who needs to be directed in everything I do.

This afternoon, I selected a candidate with a first from Oxford, who swam the channel for the Tsunami appeal, So there mother. I still love to get my own way.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I am sure that boy had Asbergers.

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 As easy as…….

Posted by dulwichmum on Thu 1 March 2007

My brother in law Henry drives me out of my tiny mind. He is my husband’s younger brother (by eighteen months), and treats James and me like a pair of senile old timers. Henry is the type of chap who considers himself to be casually dressed when he wears jeans with his Thomas Pink pin stripe shirts. I expect Henry was born wearing cuff-links and braces.

Henry has a terribly important job; he works in that angular MI5 building up beside Vauxhall Bridge, and drives a dreadfully ostentatious Porsche 911 convertible in loud metallic blue. He usually turns up at the house unannounced, and never remembers the children’s birthdays.

Henry arrived last weekend, smelling of beer from the night before and looking like he would benefit from a shave. He implied that he had spent the night locally with a young lady, but we deliberately did not enquire any further – it is (in our experience) always best not to allow too much detail. He referred to Ana (our au-pair) as ‘delicious’, I hope she doesn’t leave now. Henry is a real slime ball.

James and Henry took the children out on their bicycles for a half an hour, and apparently Uncle Henry made lots of negative comments on how little Max;

‘cannot even ride his bicycle without stabilizers yet – even though he is five years old’, according to Freya.

Henry bought Max the expensive Puccy bicycle in The London Recumbent Bicycle Shop in Dulwich Park, five summers ago on a whim. Max was so tiny then, that he could not even support his own head. The yellow and blue bicycle had a ‘push’ handle attached to the saddle which we removed late last summer.

I will not put pressure on Max to allow us to remove the stabilizers until he says he is ready.

‘Childhood is not a race. He will have plenty of time for cycling without stabilizers as he grows up,’ I have insisted to Henry in the past.

‘Let him be. I have never met a 20 year old who cannot pedal a bicycle.’

This morning the children wanted to cycle to school, and so Ana and I took the bicycles out of the garage. The children were a hundred yards down the road, when Max’s stabilizers appeared to become unstable, and then the poor child fell flat on his nose. The darling boy cried for an age. Apparently Uncle Henry had loosened the stabilizers to encourage Max to ‘find his balance himself’, Ana lamented. She feels terribly responsible – the poor girl.

I am so annoyed. Why does he interfere? Henry has no children of his own, does he not remember how hard it is to be a little child, to have to learn everything from the beginning. Life should be an an adventure, not a competition.

I telephoned James to express my disgust and annoyance, and to my surprise James informed me that Uncle Henry has never learned to pedal a bicycle himself….Plonker!

Osama Bin Laden must be living in fear……

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