Revision

The offspring are safely back at University and I am back at school.  As I prepare my Year 11s and Year 13s for their exams, I think about my own children cramming.

During exam periods  I used to try to provide some small treat for our children to look forward to – chocolate biscuits when they got in.  Watching telly in front of the fire at the end of the evening. 

But now, long distance,  I can’t create a sanctuary any more. 

Even if I posted chocolate biscuits, and even if they survived the journey, the welcome would be a tad tepid. 

“Don’t you know they’re bad for you, Mum?”

At least we can use texts and WhatsApp to jolly one another along.  True, it is banter rather than a deep sharing of empathy.  But at least it’s communication.

Although, it can go wrong. 

Last night, Perran and I had each been out with friends for a curry and, I suspect, a drink, and we were comparing notes by text.  I asked him how his thali had been.

“What on earth do you mean, Mum?”

 I checked my text.  Autocorrect had changed it to “thalidomide”.  

Come to think of it, Autocorrect is clearly ignorant of curries, as over Easter I accidentally asked Nigel to order an “organ josh” for me. 

“I thought you were vegetarian, Clare!”

Even in spite of the biscuit deficiency, I hope their Mum’s silly mistakes keep the kids grinning through their revision.