Hi, George here, again.
Welcome to my (school) world. Won’t you come on in?
But it is not quite that easy. You must be wearing a mask and stay two metres apart. And I have to limit you to six. Remember “The Rule of Six”. Unless you are in my school bubble. Or unless you are under 12 years of age in Scotland.
Oh, and I almost forgot I am able to welcome you into my world if you are a member of one of my Grouse Shooting Parties.
I’ve found a way to forget about the Coronavirus pandemic is to start school. I understand why Boris Johnson said everyone must go back to school. Even little old me who had never been to school before.
School has this magical power that makes you forget Coronavirus. That all changes back home though.
So, yes, I have done two whole weeks and two days at school now. All that time and yet, no holidays seem to be on the horizon, surprisingly and disappointingly.
I have been most disturbed with the sneakiness of school.
I thought it was brilliant when I started. Just two afternoons a week for two hours. I could do that with my eyes shut. And did do. I didn’t even have to visit the school toilet. I went at home when I left for school and when I returned home. Even Grandad could have done that. That’s why I sang the praises of school in my last Blog Post.
But the following week that all changed. Without a word of warning they changed the day to 9.00am start until 3.15pm finish. Six and a quarter hours.
I tried not visiting the school toiler, but without success.
That would have been bad enough but copeable with if they had kept it to two days. But behind my back they upped it to five days. That is thirty-one and a quarter hours per week.
That’s a lot of hours to have to pretend to be having fun and learning something. It is tiring, very tiring too. More tiring than putting up with Mum and Dad 24 hours a day. And more tiring than dealing with Sister Freya.
And you ain’t going to believe this but even more tiring than babysitting Mamma and Grandad.
I decided there was nothing I could do about it. I think Boris Johnson had said that is what I had to do. And apparently in our world if Boris Johnson says “Jump” and you say, “How high?” That is if the Coronavirus pandemic is anything to go by.
So, at the end of that week of full days, I fell asleep exhausted thinking this is obviously the way life’s meant to be. Get on with it George, accept it. Sister Freya does, Cousin Rory does and most important of all Cousin Ewan does.
Think positively I told myself, at least I didn’t have to do dancing lessons or Brownies like poor old Sister Freya.
But how wrong could I be as I entered Week 3 with a renewed comfort blanket.
On Monday of Week 3 I happily trotted off to school with Dad for a 9.00am start until 3.15pm. Fine, this was the new norm. And I’m ok with that.
But shock, horror, come Tuesday. Mum took me and Sister Freya to be at school for 8.00am.
There was some big mistake here. Mum had either misread here watch or phone or messed up the time. Remember she’s a schoolteacher, they are not gifted with the highest amount of common sense in the world. She does embarrass me at times with her lack of being switched on.
But when we reached the school gates instead of the teachers throwing their hands in the air in horror saying, “Sacre bleu! Go away you silly people you are one hour early.” They welcomed us with open arms, crossing our names off a clipboard list.
We were taken in and welcomed to Breakfast Club.
I was disgusted. I’m not a club type person. They are more for the beaujoire elite. Not my class (I don’t mean school class but social class. More for the upper classes.
And what would you expect from a Breakfast Club?
For a start a fully cooked English Breakfast: 2 rashers of bacon, 2 fried eggs, 2 of the very best quality Lincolnshire pork sausages, plenty of baked beans, black pudding, tomatoes, mushrooms and hash browns followed by a round of toast and Robertson’s Golden Shred Marmalade, all the coffee you can consume and a glass of fresh orange juice.
Then you would expect the mornings national daily newspapers to read. And finally, a few words with your mates.
But no, just a few bits of cereal and a load of playing and drawing with strangers.
The day seemed so much longer with that early start. Boy, was I ready for that 3.15pm finish.
As a four-year-old I do not possess an Apple watch and Mum and Dad stubbornly will not provide me with an i-phone, so I never know what time of day it is. I think Mum and Dad do it on purpose to keep me in the dark.
But because of that I have nurtured an inbuilt gut feeling of what time it is by using my body clock. You have to if you are going to learn to survive in this dog eat dog world.
Because of this I knew instinctively when 3.15pm dawns. Mainly because the bell rings that indicates the end of the school day.
Out of anything I have learned in school over this last two weeks and two days that is probably the most important and a vital fact of life.
But Mum or Dad were not there to collect me. They’d obviously forgotten about me. I suppose they may never come and fetch me. You’d think when they came to pick up Sister Freya it might just spark their memory that they have a Georgie son too.
Just in case I began planning my life without them.
I discovered I was in After School Club. They are club obsessed at this school. But this After School Club was just like the Breakfast Club but without the cereal.
Mum finally remembered about me at 5.00pm and picked me up.
So, my day had been 8.00am until 5.00pm. Nine whole hours. The rest of the week fell into that pattern too.
Except Friday when Mamma and Grandad came to rescue me at 3.45pm. We give thanks for Mammas and Grandads. They save the world!
I now worry what next week will bring on the school’s Ratchet Up The Hours System
Will it be the Bedtime Story Club, The Night Club, or The School All Nighter. When I agreed to go to school, I wasn’t made fully aware of the commitment I was taking on.
Having said all that, I do love school. During the first couple of days Mum was upset to see me go. But I told her man up Mum it’s the real world and I’m privileged to be a part of it.
So, in my two whole weeks and two half days at school, what have I learned?
To be honest, not a lot and I am most disappointed with my progress.
For a start we have not been given a list of potential universities we can apply to let alone guidance on filling out the application form and how to handle ourselves at the interview.
I am about to start Day 13 of my school life and we have not yet been taught how to write a proposal letter to a publisher for our first book let alone write the first draft. That is valuable time lost never to be regained. But Grandad is more optimistic and says it is good because it is teaching us procrastination which is key to being a brilliant writer.
My reading is not progressing as I would wish. We have not even started “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” the first of the seven Harry Potter books. At this stage of my education 2 weeks and 2 days in at the age of 4½ years old you would expect me to be through all the Harry Potter books, and just finishing War and Peace.
I have not heard Shakespeare’s name mentioned let alone read a play or sonnet.
Before starting school I made the following list of areas of mathematics I needed to study.
- Linear Algebra
- Differential Equations
- Real Analysis
- Complex Analysis
- Abstract Algebra
- Number Theory
- Game Theory
- Functional Analysis
- Algebraic Geometry
- Differential Geometry
- Dynamical Systems (Chaos Theory)
- Numerical Analysis
- Set Theory
- Category Theory
- Model Theory
- Mathematical Physics
- Discrete Mathematics.
We have not touched upon one of them.
And we’ve not talked about Quantum Physics, or the meaning of life.
I was beginning to question whether Mum and Dad had chosen the correct school for me to get the most out of life. But then my teacher redeemed it all by the book he read to us.
A brilliant book entitled “I Need a Wee!” by Sue Hendra, Paul Linnet.
Alan the bear has a problem. He needs a wee! But there are so many things he would rather do first. Will he make it to the loo on time? And when he gets there, will there be a queue?! Uh-oh…
This book and story is the best ever. It is a gripping page turner. So many things distract Alan from getting to the loo. Each page you think is he going to make it and someone else distracts him. What makes it a historical piece of brilliant literature is that you think: Been there, Done that, Got the wet trousers. It really is so real life!
Brilliant 5+ Stars.
The best thing about school is that I have made so many friends, Bobby and Jack and so many too many to list them all here.
I even sat with Erin or Ava, I don’t know which one, they are twins. They have the same face, the same hair, the same everything. Just like Topsy and Tim.
Just imagine how funny it would be if they had the same mummy and daddy.
Mum says Uncle Ian is an identical twin, but I think she’s winding me up. There couldn’t be two Uncle Ian’s in the world with identical hair styles that bad. And there would have to be two Auntie JuJus. I think not. Doesn’t bear thinking about.
Phew! I need to relax now and recover. I know, what’s better than a good old fashioned back to normal swimming lesson.
So, see you next time