Tuesday, 19 April 2016


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.

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