11th November 2007
This week, I managed to waste a considerable amount of taxpayers’ money by attending a full-day course to recertify as a Residential Leader. (Lunch was the most beneficial aspect.) I already had a perfectly valid certificate from five years ago, but County Hall got in touch midweek to inform me, rather alarmingly, that the school had no certified staff member, making any off-site class trip technically illegal.

I pointed out, helpfully, that I’m retiring at the end of the year and that the new head, who arrives in January, already holds the relevant certificate. That didn’t matter. Someone had to go on the course immediately. And as expected, no one else volunteered.

So… off I went. Only to be told, after a full day of PowerPoint presentations, role-play scenarios, and mediocre coffee, that there’s no expiry date on the certificate after all. Mine was still valid. Marvellous!!!

Still, I did learn something new: it is now legally acceptable to pay pupils on a residential trip to subsidise the cost of those whose parents refuse to pay. This number is ever-increasing. Funny how schools daren’t put that little nugget of information in the trip letters home.

There was some good news, though:

1. After months of persistent badgering, pleading, letter-writing, and thinly veiled threats to various educational bodies, we finally secured a place at a special school for one of our SEN pupils. Everyone, especially the parents and the class teacher, is hugely relieved. Why it took multiple meetings and enough paperwork to deforest a small country remains one of life’s great mysteries. Is it just education where the obvious is so hard to achieve?
2. And in contrast, I wrote a single letter to a local charity explaining why one of our mums and her son deserved some support over Christmas. Within two days, it was agreed: a holiday and presents were sorted. One side of A4 did the trick. Take note, County Hall.

Meanwhile, my stepbrother David sent an email that left me ever so slightly green with envy. He’s just bought a house in Bulgaria, complete with a swimming pool, in a peaceful mountain village we once visited. He and Genya plan to sell their house in Lincolnshire and move there full-time, returning only when it suits them. I can’t say I blame them. I’m not jealous, of course… just keenly aware that my house lacks a mountain view.

I visited Nan over the weekend. While in Yorkshire, we popped in to see David and admired the photos of his new Balkan bolt-hole. I also harvested the last of the onions I’d planted in spring and gave the garden a quick once-over. We had Sunday lunch at the Thurcroft Hotel. You know you’re in Yorkshire when the carvery costs just £4.95. The landlady remembered me from school, and in true Yorkshire fashion, managed to extract my entire life story over the course of one lunch. Apparently, she was in my primary school class, though I didn’t remember her. I chose to take that as a compliment: clearly, I haven’t changed much since I was eleven.

Charlotte visited Nan on Monday, and coincidentally, they went to the same place for lunch. She reported to the rest of the family that Suraj has had a much-needed pay rise, excellent!

Sue worked across various schools this week and has somehow committed to working every weekday for the next two weeks. One school has tried to lure her in with a contract, but wisely, she’s holding firm. No one needs that many meetings, courses, and forms in their life.

As for Jamie, he hasn’t been seen with Lara lately. He brought home glowing college results, merits and a distinction, and when I offered to take him and Lara out for a celebratory meal, he told me not to bother about Lara. Curious. I wonder who’ll be crossing the doorstep next.

We’ve barely seen much of Sarah this week; she has had her head buried in schoolwork, but she’s still lovely. (And yes, I’m writing that because she reads these blogs.)