Wednesday, March 18th, 2009
This is, ultimately, about cellos, but it may take some time getting there. I’ve been meaning to do one on musical instruments for a while, it’s been niggling away since the selection process for lessons - Middly Boy has been picked for cello lessons. But I’ve taken a while getting round to it, partly because I’ve been having trouble getting my head through the door ever since he got chosen (the musical ability is my genes obviously - you can tell because my ring finger is longer than my pointy finger. Boffins say this is a sign of musical ability and all other evidence such as being totally incapable of either being in time or remembering the tune or both can safely be ignored). And partly because it’s taken a while to gather the evidence which I shall present to you in a minute.
But before I do, I must get this out somehow or I’ll pop. The other day, myself, Middly Girl and the Tiddler arrived at school slightly later than you are supposed to. I need a map for this bit really (that’s not why we were late, it’s not like we get lost en route, just if you don’t know the layout you’re going to have to try and imagine it). Middly G is in the Annexe building - not at this point obviously, but it’s where she’s aiming for. So, we arrive at the top of Victoria Road, not knowing the exact time, but due to the general direction of the other parents, suspecting the worst. But not certain that the worst has happened, on we press, down to the Annexe. Once we get there, we find that the worst has, indeed, happened. The Way is Shut.
What you are supposed to do in these circumstances is to return to the Office that you’ve just walked past, with the child. The door to the Office is on the far side of the main building, and once you are there, the child is to wait to be taken back to the Annexe. You might think that it would be a bit quicker to nip round to the Office yourself, leaving the child at the Annexe door. Especially if you’ve had a bit of a jog to get there already. But you can’t. My friend, who is hardly ever late, discovered this on one of those rare occasions when, having done exactly that, she was sent back to the Annexe to fetch the child to be taken back to the Annexe. So. Given that I have the Tiddler, who is walking – well I say walking – I know this is going to take quite some time. There is a fair amount of come and go between the buildings, so, I figure, it’s probably quicker just to hang about until someone comes and Middly G can pop in behind them. Aha! And no sooner thought than a crocodile of small children with two adults heaves into view. Hooray. Except, not hooray. When they get there, they say (not all together, they, the gender protective pronoun) “I am not allowed to let you in.” Fair enough. I do not want to go in. I have had a university education, and I don’t think there’s much at Primary 2 level left to teach me (other than how to get along with people, obviously, and it’s probably a bit late for that). Besides which, I’ve got to get to work.
I say “that’s OK, I don’t want to go in. Just to pop her in.”
They say “I’m afraid I can’t let Middly G in either”.
At this point I think I must have fallen over. From my position lying on my back on the play ground, I tried to say “Excuse me but that ruling does seem rather bizarre. There is a door here which is standing open, and this child is supposed to be on the other side of it. You obviously recognise her as you called her by her name. So presumably you do know she is meant to be in there and isn’t some terrorist with a packet of nuts hidden in their lunch box who’s craftily shrunk down and disguised themselves in a Haddington Infant School uniform.” Unfortunately it came out more like “Uhngh?” University education or not.
“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!” they say.
“I’ll huff and I’ll puff?”
“I will not let you in.”
Well I don’t want to be boiled into soup or whatever the usual consequences are, so I pick myself up, and, hi ho hi ho, it’s not to work we go. When we get to the office, Second Office Lady says First Office Lady has just taken a child back over to the Annexe. So we go to catch her. Unfortunately First Office Lady can do what we can’t - loads! But including – she can go through the back door of the main building. As the Tiddler is by this time pretty fed up of walking, and I can’t carry her at the minute, we take a while to clear the side of the building. Long enough, apparently, for First Office Lady to make it to the Annexe and back. But of course we couldn’t see this at the time, the main building being in the way. So we wait at the Annexe door until practically the Easter Holidays, and then back we go to the Office. And instead of being 5 minutes late, MG has missed most of her primary school education.
The moral of which is, of course, don’t be late in the first place. I know.
I don’t think I’m going to get on to the musical stuff today, which is pity as it is quite interesting and if anyone knows anything about statistics it would be really handy. I’ll just tell you the only cello joke I know instead, shall I? It goes like this:
Q: Why do cellists spend so long standing around outside people’s houses?
A: They can’t find the right key and they don’t know when to come in.
They probably get it from their mothers.
