We have not gone to work. I would be eaten up with guilt about this if it were not for being on the third glass of wine. This is a marvellous cure for remorse, not least because it has completely dissolved all my financial worries, as well as most of my writing ability, at least until tomorrow morning.
We took Oliver back to school this afternoon. It is only Sunday but this has been a shortened exeat because of it being so close to Christmas. It is not really that far, about four hours’ drive there and back, but despite this by the time we got home we were both weary and longing for wine.
It is Sunday night, deathly quiet on the taxi rank, but also we have got no self control whatsoever, so instead of going out to work like responsible people we gave in. We ate cheese and crackers and drank wine far too quickly: and as soon as I have finished writing this we are going to go to bed.
It is very quiet with Oliver gone again. The house seems colder somehow, as if his small skinny presence brings a cheerful warmth with it.
He climbed in our bed with us whilst we had our coffee this morning, by way of a last-morning opportunity for some companionship, but after a few minutes he explained that it all smelled of dogs and of us and was too hot anyway, and got out.
I washed our dressing gowns when we got up.
I made us all a late breakfast of bacon and egg, and we sat together over a large pot of tea to listen to Oliver telling us things. He continued to do this, except for a brief interlude when he was obliged to visit the shower, pretty much until we turned in at the school gates.
He was entirely preoccupied with school events, which include a quest to find a hidden sheep, the soon-to-be-played German Spotlight game, and the possibility of raising a petition to persuade the Headmaster to readmit Nesquik to school.
He talked a very great deal. I took the opportunity of his loquacity to enquire about his progress in Latin, which earned a short but extremely eloquent monosyllable which he is not allowed to say. We couldn’t quite think of an appropriate reply to this, so we both nodded sagely and changed the subject.
I ironed his uniform, and Mark cleaned his shoes, and he was dispatched into his shower.
I had spent a great deal of time at work last night sewing name tags on to Christmas jumpers, and on to replacement handkerchiefs and underwear. We packed his bag and emptied the dogs and set off into the chill evening.
It was dark when we finally got him to school. He bounded up the stairs to his dorm two at a time. I think he is happier than I had ever hoped that he might be.
We drove away in thoughtful silence. It is humbling and lovely to realise that other people are doing such magnificent things with our children.
I have attached at the top of the page a photograph which we took of the school notice board. To my mind it neatly summarises the splendid things about school.
Spare a thought for Lucy who is doing a GCSE oral in Mandarin in the morning. We have lit a candle for her.
