those display cases by reception. You know, the ones that lock.’
‘They should put something in a locked case,’ I said, looking at Lily who was now painting her knees.
THURSDAY 19TH JANUARY
I haven’t got any further with my plans to bring the boys’ school the delight of spending time with us lot, so I was forced to consult Mum.
While she was washing up and I was helping by eating things left on the plates, I said, ‘Did you go to a mixed-sex school?’
Mum smiled. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Granny said she wanted me to learn something useful like typing or cooking. She thought that if I was around boys I’d waste time twirling my hair and flashing my
knickers.’
Granny had a point there. I remember that time Mum did a cartwheel on the beach. No one should have to see what’s under her skirt. But even taking that into account it was a rubbish
approach to your daughter’s education.
‘Sounds sexist to me and she obviously failed with the cooking,’ I said, licking the apple crumble dish. ‘What was the typing about? Did she want you to go into ICT?’
‘No, she wanted me to be a typist.’
I stopped mid-lick. ‘People aren’t wrong when they say that things were simpler in the olden days, are they? Imagine typing being a whole job. I could do that with one
hand.’
‘You should be grateful that I’ve got higher hopes for you.’
‘Higher? What, like a trapeze artist?’
‘I was thinking more of something sciencey.’
I gave her a stern look. ‘Something
sciencey
? Well, that won’t be happening if I’ve inherited your standards of precision, will it? Sciencey isn’t even a word,
let alone a job description.’
She got a bit bristly about that. ‘It’s not my field. Maybe you wouldn’t be any good at Social Anthropology.’
‘I could be if I wanted to, but you’re right: I think I’ll do a proper subject at university. Probably Chemistry.’
I don’t know why, but that made her purse her lips. ‘If you’ve finished pointing out the holes in my education then maybe I could answer your original question.’
I nodded graciously because I may marry into the royal family and I am practising the moves.
‘We did sometimes meet up with the boys’ school,’ Mum said.
I nodded again.
‘There was the school musical.’
I shook my head. ‘The problem with musicals is that not everyone seems to appreciate the unique quality of my voice.’
‘You don’t have to have a main part. You could always just be in the chorus . . .’ She looked at me. ‘No, wait a minute; I’ve just remembered who I’m talking
to. You’re not going to be happy in the background, are you?’
‘I’m not good at blending in. I think it’s my hair.’
‘I think it’s your mouth.’
‘Have you got any other suggestions? Or shall I be off to look up that care home I’m going to put you in when you’re older?’
‘What care home?’
‘That one we saw the documentary on, where they spit in your soup.’
Mum narrowed her eyes. ‘Actually, I’ve got several more suggestions. When you’ve made your poor old mother a cup of herbal tea, I’ll tell you.’
So I made her a cup of her bark and moss tea without even swearing, although I must say that it’s disgusting the way parents bribe their children these days. I bet princesses don’t
have to make their ancient mothers cups of tea.
Once she was settled with the fruits of my labour, she said, ‘You could do some charity work—’
‘
Urgh
, no more talk of charity. It’s sucking the life out of me.’
‘All right, you could organise a litter pick.’
‘Oh, come on! Is it not possible to spend time in the company of boys and do something enjoyable at the same time? Or are you worried that the double fun would kill me because I’ve
never experienced it before in my sad little life?’
‘Life is what you make it, my petal. If you bring sunshine, you get sunshine.’
I wondered what the royals do when someone is annoying
‘They should put something in a locked case,’ I said, looking at Lily who was now painting her knees.
THURSDAY 19TH JANUARY
I haven’t got any further with my plans to bring the boys’ school the delight of spending time with us lot, so I was forced to consult Mum.
While she was washing up and I was helping by eating things left on the plates, I said, ‘Did you go to a mixed-sex school?’
Mum smiled. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Granny said she wanted me to learn something useful like typing or cooking. She thought that if I was around boys I’d waste time twirling my hair and flashing my
knickers.’
Granny had a point there. I remember that time Mum did a cartwheel on the beach. No one should have to see what’s under her skirt. But even taking that into account it was a rubbish
approach to your daughter’s education.
‘Sounds sexist to me and she obviously failed with the cooking,’ I said, licking the apple crumble dish. ‘What was the typing about? Did she want you to go into ICT?’
‘No, she wanted me to be a typist.’
I stopped mid-lick. ‘People aren’t wrong when they say that things were simpler in the olden days, are they? Imagine typing being a whole job. I could do that with one
hand.’
‘You should be grateful that I’ve got higher hopes for you.’
‘Higher? What, like a trapeze artist?’
‘I was thinking more of something sciencey.’
I gave her a stern look. ‘Something
sciencey
? Well, that won’t be happening if I’ve inherited your standards of precision, will it? Sciencey isn’t even a word,
let alone a job description.’
She got a bit bristly about that. ‘It’s not my field. Maybe you wouldn’t be any good at Social Anthropology.’
‘I could be if I wanted to, but you’re right: I think I’ll do a proper subject at university. Probably Chemistry.’
I don’t know why, but that made her purse her lips. ‘If you’ve finished pointing out the holes in my education then maybe I could answer your original question.’
I nodded graciously because I may marry into the royal family and I am practising the moves.
‘We did sometimes meet up with the boys’ school,’ Mum said.
I nodded again.
‘There was the school musical.’
I shook my head. ‘The problem with musicals is that not everyone seems to appreciate the unique quality of my voice.’
‘You don’t have to have a main part. You could always just be in the chorus . . .’ She looked at me. ‘No, wait a minute; I’ve just remembered who I’m talking
to. You’re not going to be happy in the background, are you?’
‘I’m not good at blending in. I think it’s my hair.’
‘I think it’s your mouth.’
‘Have you got any other suggestions? Or shall I be off to look up that care home I’m going to put you in when you’re older?’
‘What care home?’
‘That one we saw the documentary on, where they spit in your soup.’
Mum narrowed her eyes. ‘Actually, I’ve got several more suggestions. When you’ve made your poor old mother a cup of herbal tea, I’ll tell you.’
So I made her a cup of her bark and moss tea without even swearing, although I must say that it’s disgusting the way parents bribe their children these days. I bet princesses don’t
have to make their ancient mothers cups of tea.
Once she was settled with the fruits of my labour, she said, ‘You could do some charity work—’
‘
Urgh
, no more talk of charity. It’s sucking the life out of me.’
‘All right, you could organise a litter pick.’
‘Oh, come on! Is it not possible to spend time in the company of boys and do something enjoyable at the same time? Or are you worried that the double fun would kill me because I’ve
never experienced it before in my sad little life?’
‘Life is what you make it, my petal. If you bring sunshine, you get sunshine.’
I wondered what the royals do when someone is annoying
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