So, it’s been a pretty peaceful Christmas and New Year break and I’m going back to work tomorrow. No rows, separate rooms, doing my own cooking, washing etc.. Yesterday was her birthday but today was our son’s return to school. So, some months ago, before the latest episodes, I had booked a fancy restaurant in the middle of London for lunch. I said I was ok to go, she said she was fine with that too.
But we also went out for a birthday day day dinner at a
local restaurant. At the restaurant she wanted to take a selfie with her and
our son. Like most 10 year olds, he was unwilling. ‘You have to do what I want.’
‘No more iPad or phone for a week if you don’t.’ And all in a harsh and not
joking voice. Who is 43, who is 10? (He
finally agreed but only if I took the picture.)
She wants to join a running club. ‘I think I will like this
club because it is women from the good neighbourhood. I can hardly be expected
to go to a sports centre where the women would not be middle class like me.’
One teacher at school often wears joggers or shorts – she is
also the netball coach. ‘You can tell Mrs T. went to a private school; always
impeccably turned out, designer handbags. Mrs P. must be from a state school.
You can always tell.’
Chat about the mother of a new kid who has joined the
school. ‘Her son was going to a state school – albeit in a good neighbourhood.
But, even then, all state school kids have a chip on their shoulders.’
At the restaurant, I guess I had booked the brasserie as the
menu was more varied. Having arrived, she insisted on going to the restaurant
area as it would be more exclusive.
If it weren’t so serious, it would be laughable.
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