Candle in the wind

Somehow I do not seem to have had very many useful achievements today.

I have been pacing about in a fever of anxiety waiting for the stupid Scottish Government to make their stupid minds up about whether or not children were still legally allowed to be educated.

When the decision came I was so cross and upset that I ranted, for quite some time, at anybody who would listen, which turned out not to be very many people.

It is not that we wish to be rid of Oliver. It is that he likes school very much and is upset and frustrated when he is not allowed to go. Also it is not good for teenage boys to be cooped up on their own with a couple of elderly taxi drivers. They ought to be charging up and down the Scottish highlands, living in holes in the snow and killing bears and sharpening their knives on stones.

At the very least they should be playing rugby.

At the time of writing our beloved leader has not yet put in his own two pennyworth about newly-invented rules to stop anybody having civil liberties in case they cause an outbreak of the plague. We are expecting that in a little while, and I can hardly say that I am looking forward to it with any great relish.

Not that it is going to make very much difference. We do not have anything left that they can take away from us any more. I am no longer a vitally functioning member of the labour market, striking out fearlessly in pursuit of independent achievements and financial self-sufficiency.

I am a housewife and stay-at-home mother, and my husband is our family wage-earner.

If I want to contribute anything to our family’s well-being I need to concentrate on making jam.

I did not make jam today. Today I did sewing. I made some more teabags, because ours have worn out, and then I made some more handkerchiefs. I had cut out a couple of aprons that needed making up, but somehow the day wore on and it was time to start getting dinner ready before I had even got around to pressing the hems.

I like doing all these sorts of things, but at the moment it is making me feel grumpy. It is all very well having the nice parts of being a nineteen fifties housewife, but it is very rubbish indeed when it become compulsory.

Lucy and I made dinner together. We have not eaten it yet, because I am writing to you in a hasty moment before my wage-earning husband gets home from work. We made lamb with feta cheese and olives, and pasta salad with lemon juice and chickpeas and rocket.

I would not have thought of anything so modern and creative, but Lucy is a child of the Jamie Oliver era.

I was just writing the above paragraph when an email arrived from Gordonstoun, who have not yet quite given in to closure. They are, it turns out, begging and pleading with the Scottish Government to be allowed to reopen, and have told us not to make any plans yet, whilst they have a last-ditch desperate try.

Of course the Government will say no, because they can hardly stop all of the state-school children from being educated and then allow the children of the fortunately wealthy to swan around filling their heads with Latin and rugby and classical music.

All the same I feel ridiculously cheered just to discover that they want to get on with it. It is wonderful to hear that I am not the only person who thinks that an educated population is more important than practically anything else.

I do not know if there are any Education Gods, but I am going to go away and light a candle to them.

Oh goodness, I hope with my whole soul that there are.