Friday, September 09, 2005

Nothing to report

I feel I should update. Sadly, there is (as the title suggests) nothing to report. I have had no reply to my email to Jonathan Freedland, inviting him to join my shul (August 10th post), though he seems to manage to respond to invitations to whitter on with abandon on the Today programme (3 times this month?!); my bathroom (August 5th post) has still not been fitted. The builder was delayed by some dodgy pipework that needed to be replaced and a bit of aggro from my neighbours who were unhappy with the noise. But it's all right now because he (the builder, not the neighbour) is currently enjoying a week's holiday in Antigua while Scrappino and I brush our teeth in the kitchen sink and shower in our friends' houses like refugees; meanwhile my five-year service award (August 3rd post) has still not arrived. Call me churlish, but how long does it take to dispatch one imitation-silver ladies watch? I'm tempted to ask one of those convoluted maths questions "If it takes an American 6 days to send a convoy from Washington to New Orleans, how long does it take to send a watch from New York to London". Or would that be in poor taste, given the circumstances?

But, after the long summer, life is getting back to normal, pretty much. Scrappino is back in school and seems to be enjoying himself. So far he's had no homework other than being told to back his exercise books with sticky backed plastic. I did the first one for him, but with little success; I managed to stick the front side of the book to the carpet, crinkled the back so badly that it looks like an old lady's veiny thigh and ripped the first couple of pages clean out when they got caught on the sticky plastic by mistake. He insisted that I leave the others for him to do himself. Kids today are so ungrateful.

On Tuesday I went to a 'Meet the Teacher' evening. She was lovely (actually she was gorgeous - if Scrappino was a few years older I'd be looking for the tell-tale signs of his first crush). She's a northener, and endeared herself to me by referring to the school "class" (rather than 'clarse'). Scrappino still finds it hysterical that I tell him to have a "bath" instead of a "barth". I wonder how he'll cope with a double-pronged northern accent attack from mother and teacher?

After we'd met the teacher we sat in the assembly hall for a talk given by the headteacher. I'd expected an in-depth discussion on the curriculum for the year, what period of history they'd be learning, what books they'd be reading, what maths level they would be attaining. Instead we were treated to a half-hour demonstration of the new PE equipment. (All the parents have been religiously collecting Sainsbury's vouchers for the past year and finally the money was spent on a new gymnastics system for the school hall. I say gymnastics system. It's really a couple of ladders, a wooden hoop and monkey bar. Oh, and I think there's a rope too. Thousands of pounds worth of kit kats and yogurt and this is what we had to show for it.) So instead of telling us what academic level the kids will reach this year, we were assured that PE is now the school's number 1 priority. Who needs basic arithmetic and the ability to spell when you can land safely, remembering to bend the knees? Perhaps I'm being unfair? After all, there is more to school than just books and lessons. And they do say a healthy body makes a healthy mind. But it's not exactly going to look good on his secondary school application. "Scrappino is unable to spell but can shimmy head first through a wooden hoop and balance for five minutes on a rope ladder." (I don't think shimmy is the exact gymnastic technical term they used)

When he's not doing sport at school, Scrappino is watching it at home. He has caught the cricket bug from my Dad, although it seems to be taking the whole nation by storm, and I can't escape it for a moment. Yesterday, he watched the test match from the minute he got home from school and even tried to do his homework while Richie Benaud prattled on about silly-mid-off and inside-leg. Unsurprisingly, he couldn't concentrate on the ball-by-ball coverage and on covering his books with sticky backed plastic and so managed to make as much of a pig's ear of it as England made of their first innings. That'll teach him.

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

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1:54 pm  
Blogger R.x said...

isn't it bad enough that my personal email is inundated with offers of erection tablets and offers of XXX girl-on-girl dvds, without my blog comments being littered with them too? what's next??

2:22 pm  
Blogger MC Aryeh said...

Aside from deleting the spam messages, you could also disallow anonymous comments (which is what I do, and I remain spam free)or set up word verification for all posters. Are you sure shimmy is not the correct technical term? We Americans don't use it, which only lends credence to its being proper.

8:29 pm  

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