First published 2009…..I have just had to buy the new X Box Formula One game for ‘Ratboy’ the son and heir. Actually it is three games in one. Six teams race each other in one game and drink champagne, five sulk and kick their heels with pints of mild in the other and in the third, you have to hunt down someone called Max Mosley. V Good!
Any road, cast your mind back two weeks and the titanic task of clearing out the enemy’s clothes cupboard. Yes, the good lady wife filled bin liner after bin liner destined for the tip or the charity shop but you may remember that one was despatched for the dry cleaners in Ivybridge. Two weeks later, the bag is still there…the clothes I mean! Head of stains, Patrick, who got a couple of hefty blokes up from the village to help him lift it, keeps saying that it is almost ready but I have a suspicion that the World Health Organisation has stepped in and asked for the contents. There’s a Miss Selfridge blouse in there which could be dropped on a country to quell a riot. Give it till the end of July and I’ll keep you informed on the re emergence of last centuries fashions.
I phoned home last week and ‘Ratboy’ answered with his normal linguistic prowess.
‘Neee ahhhh w na hear in’ it, dad! Seer htte need money lots.’ I am almost fluent in 14 speak.
‘Where’s you mother?’
‘Gone parents evening wibble sniff!’ May have got that wrong but I did say I am nearly fluent.
‘Who is she seeing?’
‘English teacher…. der!’
‘Arrr, never mind, there’s always the Foreign Legion…we’ll talk about that later,’ I said and put the phone down.
But this year I needn’t have worried or indeed have stayed out late and pretended I didn’t know the parents evening was on. The enemy came tripping home with a glowing report.
‘A glowing report?’ I said. ‘Glowing about Ratboy! Glowing as in the sense that he was suspected of burning down the school and someone has reported him!’
But no, apparently he is one of the most liked pupils in the school. It took me back to my own reports where my parents thought Mr Leastable was my head master as it appeared as a common signature at the bottom of most pages. It was my father that realised it said Least Able! Happy memories came flooding home of the sarcastic alcoholic dwarf who ran the technical drawing class who simply wrote ‘Who?’ in the space provided for achievements and of the physics teacher who reminded me of the child catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang but without the personal warmth. And of Miss Black who looked like Uncle Fester from The Addams family and taught Scottish country dancing for some reason and was never allowed to operate heavy machinery after three as she had been for ‘lunch’ at The Barley Mow pub!
Oh happy days
Wibble sniff Fitz
