A breakfast ramble

When I say that my children don’t tell me anything that goes on  at school, what I really mean is that they don’t tell me anything that the teachers think I should know.  Just occasionally I’m regaled with something so exciting that they’re barely through the front door before the talk starts, words tripping over each other just like in Primary SChool days. 

Last week was the start of Ramadan.  GP2 came home marvelling that his Muslim friend had got up to eat breakfast at 4.30am and that he wouldn’t be able to eat or drink anything until 8.30 in the evening.  And he had had PE in the morning followed by basketball and then rugby after school.  And he was a bit late back after lunch because he had gone home to pray.  The teacher was about to hand out his 37th (yes, he’d already given out 36 – is this a record, we wondered?) D7 of the day for this crime of lateness but figured the excuse was good enough.  Phew!

It set me wondering how children manage to cope with school and everything else that they do if they can’t even drink water between dawn and dusk. Continue reading

For the vertically challenged

A recent article in The Guardian suggests that I may be able to blame my, well, slightly petite stature not on the vagaries of the gene pool or on coeliac disease  or on the fact that I’m just short, no reason OK just get on with it, but indeed on my older brother and sister.  So there, it’s your fault, something else for you to feel guilty about, along with that scar on my arm where you stabbed me with a pair of scissors when I was seven.  Yes you did! 

Unfortunately, though, it doesn’t explain why my younger brother and two sisters are also taller than me.  It’s not fair!