1st June 2010

A few days before Sarah’s 17th birthday, the sun finally decided to come out from behind its thick curtain of gloom and grace us with its presence. By the time the 23rd of May rolled around, we were basking in the hottest day of the year so far, almost as if Mother Nature had received a party invitation and thought she’d make an effort.

Her birthday fell on a Sunday, and Charlotte, Suraj, and Lucas made the trip specially to join the celebrations. Lee was already in situ, having arrived on Saturday, and Harley put in a cheerful appearance too. I’d spent part of the week in Yorkshire, doing battle with Nan’s garden and helping out around her house, before bringing her back to Willow Bank with me. With everyone under one roof, we were positively bursting at the seams, just the way family gatherings should be.

The weather was perfect for the planned BBQ, so perfect that we ended up dragging the table under the apple tree to escape the ferocious heat. Suraj, rather mischievously, brought along a couple of super-soakers, which ensured that any hope of staying dry vanished within moments. Lucas was in his element, while our credibility as sensible adults took a noticeable dip, along with various items of clothing. After demolishing the food and extinguishing the candles on the cake, we all migrated to the pool to cool off. Charlotte’s new impression of a beached whale was a thing of beauty, while Harley’s assisted swan dive earned high marks from the imaginary judges.

Later in the evening, we gathered in the lounge to watch England beat Mexico on the big screen, a fine end to a birthday that ticked all the boxes.

In more domestic news, the garden is finally showing signs of life. The seeds and seedlings have rallied, and I’m now watering in earnest most evenings. If this glorious weather holds through June, we could be in for a bumper crop. With the World Cup in full swing, I’ve no intention of going anywhere; the vegetables and I shall be home, cheering England on and hoping neither of us wilts under the pressure.

Later in the week, David and Genya stopped by en route to Dover, bound for Bulgaria in their newly acquired Dodge motorhome. We squeezed in another family BBQ (any excuse), and then watched England beat Japan, clearly our patio is a lucky charm. They parked the motorhome on our drive for the night, though what they slept on remains a mystery, as they had somehow managed to forget to pack any bedding.

In the morning, as they prepared to leave, I offered David a warm jumper (he had also forgotten anything remotely suitable for chilly mountain roads). Just as they were pulling out, we remembered an old quilt stashed in the garage, once used to protect Jamie’s car bonnet in winter, which we thrust upon them like a medieval gift. Tatty but serviceable, and far better than freezing in a Bulgarian layby. In return, they left me a laptop that had been stolen during a break-in, later recovered by the police. Genya had nearly finished writing a book on it, and I promised to see what I could do to recover the files, which had been overwritten by the thief with photos. No pressure, then.

Last Saturday, I was lucky enough to bag a ticket to the Premiership Final at Twickenham, Leicester Tigers vs Saracens. Even better, I secured a seat on the supporters’ coach from Harborough, courtesy of a fellow retired rugby-playing teacher (rugby really is the best old boys’ network). It was a brilliant day, fantastic atmosphere, cracking rugby, and a Tigers win to top it off. Glorious.

Meanwhile, Sue enjoyed a more leisurely escape, driving down to visit her sister in Buckfastleigh. Despite caravans littering every possible route, she made it safely and sent a reassuring text upon arrival.

Today, Sarah headed off early to Nottingham for a much-needed break with Lee, after months of nose-to-the-grindstone revision for her AS exams. I’ve spent many an evening being roped into testing her on revision cards, all lovingly made, diligently colour-coded, and often completely incomprehensible to my middle-aged brain. Still, it’s not all bad. I’ve noticed a distinct improvement in my crossword and Sudoku times. A side effect of being dragged back into academic thinking, perhaps?

She’s back to exams after half-term, and I can’t help but question the logic of it all. It feels as though there’s more focus on preparing for tests than on actual teaching. It’s all become one long treadmill of assessments. Sarah, bless her, takes it all in stride; it’s the only system she’s known, but it doesn’t sit quite right with me.

On a nostalgic note, I received a surprise phone call the other night from Chris Tippets, an old college friend I’d all but lost touch with. We used to visit each other during our early teaching days and spent two hours catching up on decades of news. We finished, as all such calls do, with promises to visit “soon”. We shall see.

And lastly, Charlotte is now noticeably plumper, the joys of pregnancy progressing as they should, but she’s fit and healthy. Lucas, meanwhile, recently managed to ‘mash’ his face at playschool, but shrugged it off with admirable nonchalance. No lasting damage, just a few more war wounds for the collection.