School’s Out

I don’t wish to always begin a new post with an explanation as to why I’ve not written for ages, so here goes. I’ve not written recently (sorry) because Oliver and Billie started a new school last week and it has been painful. Oliver is finding it hard to settle and fit in and as a result has been really upset. Terrible as it is to hear him tell me he hates me and that I am a fat twit poo-head, I think it is ok for him to be angry with us. After all, why should he have to learn a new routine, make a whole new bunch of friends and spend all lunchtime missing his old chums? Why indeed, well mostly because of the invidious position we find ourselves in with the schools locally where you can’t get into the local state junior if you don’t go to the local state infant. So we have to hoik him out of his cosy little indie school (as we can’t find a next-stage indie locally that doesn’t want to turn out row upon row of accountants/city slickers) and put him into a thoroughly nice, but totally alien state infant.

Ho hum schools what a bore. Boring when you’re in them and boring when you have to put your kids in them. I’m fast coming the conclusion that the opt out Steiner approach which we vetoed a couple of years back, looks more and more viable. I still wake up each morning (I kid you not) and rejoice in the fact that it’s not a school day, so why the fuck am I putting my kids through it. Lack of choice mostly I think. I asked Olly tonight as he lay cosied up with me, having both cried about him being unhappy in his new school, if he could have a wish what would it be and he said he would like a really, really, really long holiday.

Where’s the Fairy Godmother when you need her?


  • I’m glad it’s not only mine who tells me he hates me. I was starting to believe it. Mind you, it’s worse when he casually tells me that he doesn’t really want to be alive. Luckily, he loves school, no problems there. I would guess that in a week or two Ollie will be settled and happy with some new friends and all the pain will be forgotten – by him. You, on the other hand, are destined to bear it till you die.

  • My mum pre-empted my telling her I hated her by crying and saying ‘I can’t believe you want me dead’ before the matricidal impulse had even crystallised in my mind.

    If as a technique this doesn’t have the required results with Olly you’ve still got the other two to get it right with. I mean, there’s three of them, one of them’s bound to grow up not hating you and Steve – it’snot parenting, it’s just the law of averages.

    But on the bright side I hated school and look how well I turned out…

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