On the last night of the half term holiday I am just rounding everybody up, hoping that each family member will say,
“Yeah, dammit, that’s enough work for today – let’s go and watch some telly.”
Nigel lights a big fire. I waft pizza smells through the house. Upstairs, I hear Perran’s sax pause as the savoury aroma and the crackling of the logs reaches him. He is on his way downstairs. Carenza, however, is still pounding away at the PC.
“I thought you’d done it all,” I say, “Even that horrible essay about the causes of WWI.”
“I have, but I was just too well prepared.”
“What do you mean?”
Lauren and Sahil and I have to do an assembly on the theme of motivation for tomorrow morning. We decided to prepare it before half term, so we didn’t have to rush it at the last minute.”
“And we thought that instead of talking about motivation in the abstract, we’d focus on one incredibly motivated heroic person, and do the assembly all about them…”
“Let me guess...”
“Yup. Oscar Pistorius.”
“Oh dear. So what are you doing about it now?”
Carenza indicates her computer screen – a picture of a small woman with a dazzling smile.
“Googling Ellie Simmonds, of course.”