I am a woman in need of a funny anecdote for my pre-Big Day (as in Mumsnet Blogfest rather than wedding) blog. However, dutiful mother as I am, I am putting my important career aside and zipping down the motorway to pick up my darling daughter, whisk her to a pre-audition for a music scholarship at the upper school, drop her back to The Manor, meet Cass for lunch, nip back to The Manor for their bonfire night festivities and zip back up to London in time for my pre-Big Day beauty sleep. Whew!
The burning question in my head is, why does the car smell of pepperoni? Dolly's wondering too, her quivery little nose poking up by the gearstick, sniffing hither and thither. The stench becomes so overpowering that I have to waylay myself at the service station to do an inspection.
Aha! That'll be it then. Under the map book that is under the umbrella that is under the anorak that is under the wellies I discover a foil tray of leftover crispy noodles with duck that Lily and I tookaway at the beginning of half-term. I chuck it out and continue on my way.
Lily is waiting in the drive, music and sax in hand, which augurs well. She is in high spirits. 'It was so funny, Mum, we went for an outride up on the hill and there was this school group there and it was just like in Just William, you know, the one with a norphan, who says, "I hate the country, I want to go back home." We rode up behind them and they were having their photo taken and we were in the background, all making peace signs and laughing our heads off, and their teacher said, 'Now, children, let's look at the Iron Age Fort and see what we can find,' and the children were obviously expecting a proper fort, not just a hill with grass and sheep on it. They were all saying, "this is boring, we want to go home." It was so funny!'
Luckily, her story fills the entire journey, so I am unable to conduct a full cross-examination on whether she's been practising. She trots off to the music department, while I sit in reception, staring vacantly at the moulded ceiling, scouring my brain for a funny anecdote. It's not long before Lily emerges with the head of music. I brace myself for the inevitable, that her grades are not high enough and please don't bother to come back. But no.
'First of all, Lily is a poppet!' he enthuses. 'Cheerful and enthusiastic, which is just what you want in the music department. She's a very sound musician and I'd like her to throw her hat into the ring.'
Yes! Practically a child prodigy!
I deliver Lily back to school and head off to The Lovers' Knot to meet Cass, who is sporting a new boyband hairdo.
'I told him to take it off at the back and not the front because I didn't want a pudding basin, but I wish I hadn't now,' she explains.
We catch up on town and country gossip and compare and contrast the relative merits of rus and urbs. 'I thought my hens had been taken by a fox,' Cass says over her seafood collation, 'but they came trotting back yesterday with 29 chicks in tow.' It's true, we don't get that in town. We just get our recycling bags trashed.
'Right,' I say, 'I'd better go and think up something funny to blog about before the Blogfest.'
'Go and have a haircut in Candlebury,' says Cass. 'That'll make you laugh. Or cry.'
The burning question in my head is, why does the car smell of pepperoni? Dolly's wondering too, her quivery little nose poking up by the gearstick, sniffing hither and thither. The stench becomes so overpowering that I have to waylay myself at the service station to do an inspection.
Aha! That'll be it then. Under the map book that is under the umbrella that is under the anorak that is under the wellies I discover a foil tray of leftover crispy noodles with duck that Lily and I tookaway at the beginning of half-term. I chuck it out and continue on my way.
Lily is waiting in the drive, music and sax in hand, which augurs well. She is in high spirits. 'It was so funny, Mum, we went for an outride up on the hill and there was this school group there and it was just like in Just William, you know, the one with a norphan, who says, "I hate the country, I want to go back home." We rode up behind them and they were having their photo taken and we were in the background, all making peace signs and laughing our heads off, and their teacher said, 'Now, children, let's look at the Iron Age Fort and see what we can find,' and the children were obviously expecting a proper fort, not just a hill with grass and sheep on it. They were all saying, "this is boring, we want to go home." It was so funny!'
Luckily, her story fills the entire journey, so I am unable to conduct a full cross-examination on whether she's been practising. She trots off to the music department, while I sit in reception, staring vacantly at the moulded ceiling, scouring my brain for a funny anecdote. It's not long before Lily emerges with the head of music. I brace myself for the inevitable, that her grades are not high enough and please don't bother to come back. But no.
'First of all, Lily is a poppet!' he enthuses. 'Cheerful and enthusiastic, which is just what you want in the music department. She's a very sound musician and I'd like her to throw her hat into the ring.'
Yes! Practically a child prodigy!
I deliver Lily back to school and head off to The Lovers' Knot to meet Cass, who is sporting a new boyband hairdo.
'I told him to take it off at the back and not the front because I didn't want a pudding basin, but I wish I hadn't now,' she explains.
We catch up on town and country gossip and compare and contrast the relative merits of rus and urbs. 'I thought my hens had been taken by a fox,' Cass says over her seafood collation, 'but they came trotting back yesterday with 29 chicks in tow.' It's true, we don't get that in town. We just get our recycling bags trashed.
'Right,' I say, 'I'd better go and think up something funny to blog about before the Blogfest.'
'Go and have a haircut in Candlebury,' says Cass. 'That'll make you laugh. Or cry.'
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