TALKING
TALKING
SHOP
AAAAAARGH!
Thats better.
If youre wondering what all that was about, just pass this column to any working mum with school-age children. She will nod sagely, shed a little tear, and get back to performing her 15 tasks at once.
Its not that I dont enjoy having the children home from school, in fact quite the opposite. Its bliss to be released from the regimentation of the school runs, and not to have to spend the first 45min of each day searching under beds for lost PE kit, reading books and essential elements of homework that have to be in today.
Im not expected to produce the ingredients for an `original but nutritious pizza with five minutes notice: "I told you last week Mum that it was going to be Design Your Own Lunch Day in Food Technology."
When I was at school designing was another form of art, and technology meant something to do with wires that only the boys did. Anything to do with food was called cookery. It may have been simplistic, but at least there was no danger of being sent to school with a tin of watercolours and a pair of pliers, instead of 8oz of self-raising and 2 eggs.
Its been lovely to spend the occasional day out with the children, to see them getting browner with every day – even if on certain weeks that was probably due to rust not tan – and to discover what they can do this summer that they couldnt last year. George (7) can swim with both feet nearly off the ground.
William (12) has taught his ferret, Bramble, who was only a baby last summer, to run around in the hedgerows, swim in the ditches, chase wildly through the undergrowth, and, on the odd occasion, frighten a passing rabbit to death.
Rosie (11) has perfected the art of painting her fingernails and toenails in a dazzling rainbow of colours, changing them daily as the mood takes her and spending the rest of the time admiring them while trying to persuade me that I really should do mine yellow and blue because thats so cool at the moment.
The real drawback to school holidays is that there is never any quiet time in the house. Not a major problem in the scale of potential farming headaches I admit, but for me those few child-free hours a day are when I get my thinking and planning and organising done. Telephone calls can be made, lists produced, columns written. Small tasks but essential and only possible in peace and quiet.
Now every morning is heralded by three sets of demands, all different, all at once: "Can I have Johnny to play? His mum wont mind. She goes out to work so you can go and get him, give him lunch and tea and take him back."
"My bike/quad/skateboard is broken and it has to be mended now or life isnt worth living."
"Im bored. Theres absolutely nothing to do – can I have £5 and go shopping?"
Running the shop while clearing up the breakfast things and hanging out the washing seems quite a doddle by comparison.
On the farming front, apart from the usual round of silage/hay/straw/silage, the summer has mainly consisted of looking at sheeps bottoms.
Despite every chemical spray and powder available, the hot, wet weather has turned them all into nouvelle cuisine for flies and John and I have had to spend many back-breaking hours inspecting and treating ovine nether ends.
William has been very good at giving a hand with these sorts of jobs. George insists on dragging his friends along to watch the finer arts of the farmer, whether they want to or not, and Rosie probably doesnt even realise that we have sheep.
Still, theres only 143 hours and 37 minutes to go before its back to packed lunches, reading books – and peace and quiet.
Ellen Box
George (7) and William (12) have different attitudes to the sheep. While William will lend a hand, George prefers to use them to shock his friends.
Rosie (11) has become an authority on nail varnish and how to be cool.