Oliver told us last night that he is being obliged to study his feelings at school.
This appears to be a modern innovation brought about because some parents believed their sons were not receiving adequate education in the complicated subject of emotion.
Oliver’s disdain for this cannot be adequately put into words here, because of things that it is acceptable to put into print, although he did a jolly good job of it last night.
It is not being taught by a real teacher, he said, they have got a girl in to do it. If he had told his form teacher that he had got feelings, he added darkly, he would just get sent to Matron.
We enquired which feelings the girl had been interested in, and he said that it was mostly anger and sadness. I wanted to know what she had said about them, and his scowl deepened.
“She said that it sucks to feel angry and sad,” he said. “except that it took her the whole hour to say it. As if we needed a girl to come and spend an hour telling us that it sucks to be angry. She just kept on going on. As if there was anything that anybody needed to say about feelings anyway. It’s bad enough when you feel them without going on and on about them as well.”
I assured him that it would probably come in handy when he got married, and he sniffed disbelievingly and returned to his motorway pile-up game on his computer, outraged that a piece of his precious childhood had been squandered in such a profligate fashion.
He and Mark continued with their maths-and-wreckage occupations this morning, and I read my book until it was time to go and get Lucy. This was a very relaxing start to the day, if only more days had huge spare spaces in them which could guiltlessly be used for reading stories and looking absently out of the window. It was lovely, and I was so contented I didn’t even mind when Roger Poopy came to get on the chair with me.
Lucy bounded out of school, having identified the camper van without much trouble, and we chugged off to the pub to meet Nan and Grandad, feeling very pleased to be reunited.
Lunch was made far more exciting than usual by all of us choosing different things to eat. Oliver had beans instead of peas, which we all agreed was a brave move, and I had a different sort of chicken, with green bits instead of barbecue sauce.
This proved to be a jolly good idea, and so I can tell you now from experience, not all new things are scary and horrid.
Oliver wouldn’t agree. He didn’t like the beans much.
We made the usual mistake of eating ourselves into uncomfortable trousers, and had to conclude our visit to the pub with a little snooze in the car park. I love taking my bed with me when I am travelling, it makes life so lovely.
The children woke us up when it was time to go by the terribly amusing method of tickling our feet and laughing. I recommend this to anybody who dislikes their alarm clock, it will quickly teach you to appreciate what you have.
It was dark when we got home, and the lodger was waiting. She has been away for a week as well, so there was a great deal of joyful catching up to be done.
She had brought us some presents, which was ace. I got a jingly thing to hang over the door, which is something I have long wanted, and Mark got a pen shaped like a spanner, and one shaped like a saw, to remind him of the perils of carelessness, which made me laugh.
It was lovely to be all together, and we all talked over each other loudly and excitedly until eventually Mark and I had to go to work.
We are back at home and all together.
I don’t need some girl to come and tell me about my feelings.
I am feeling very contented.
