The End of the Year

 Dear all,

The end-of-the-year parties are over. Thank God.  I won’t bore you with details and honestly, I am not sure I can come up with any more descriptions of refined English school parties. It is all the same:  blah, blah, blah, BEAUTIFUL FROCKS, blah, blah, blah, CHAMPAGNE.  I hope I never have to peer into another picnic basket as long as I live.

M and S’s day houses hosted a BBQ Friday, the 4^th of July, complete with American flag bunting, a band and fireworks.  Afterwards, I was spent.  I just didn’t think I could get through another day of picnics.  Long before tea was served in the marquee the following afternoon at the Junior’s Parents Day, I slipped into the car and fell asleep.  I was like the Little Engine Who Couldn’t: I simply could not go on chatting one more minute.  We were home by mid afternoon, in jammies and watching what I consider to be one of the finest low budget movies ever made:  Employee of the Month.  This film is remarkable, not in the least because its writer did such an astonishing job of capturing the essence of twelve-year-old boy humor.  Pure genius. So many writers try to sustain this kind of humor, but fail to deliver for a full hour and a half. And with Costco as a set, how can you lose? Brilliant.

I came home Saturday afternoon and I didn’t leave the house for two days.  It was glorious, but now I am beginning to think our plans for staying home this summer were a bit short sighted.  The instigator, R, is driving me crazy already.   R walks around the house starting arguments with everyone.  Even if you do not hear his footsteps or voice, you can locate R by the argument that develops.  It’s R’s own take on GPS. We received his grades early in the week.  We were, how do I say it, less than impressed. R apparently gave himself permission to take off the last term of school.  That is the thanks you get when you raise independent thinkers.  If only he was graded on immature antics, poor penmanship and talking during class.  He’d be headed to Harvard.

On Thursday morning, M strolled into the kitchen after 11:30.  I tried not to notice. I tried to be upbeat.  I tried to remind myself that it was only the first week of summer vacation and that it was raining.  I tried to remind myself that he was growing and he needed his sleep.  In the end, it just didn’t matter. I exploded about his lack plans for the summer (except receiving serious Latin tutoring, which should be a whole lot of fun. All kidding aside, even M had to agree this was a MUCH better scenario than the Latin Camp I was threatening-even I thought Latin Camp was harsh.).  He came to visit me later that day at work.  He, A and Pig were all soaking wet from a long walk in the rain, but very upbeat:  M, with his little brother and dog in tow, secured a paper route for the summer.  He is now like his twin sister who has taken over my hours at Blue: gainfully employed.  So, once he delivers the papers each morning and studies his Latin, he is free to sleep and eat all day long.

With love from England,

T-Ann