OVERHEARD AT THE SCHOOL GATE

Overheard...

“I’m a blonde in a big car. I’ll park wherever I damn well like.”

“She called me a Champagne Socialist, but it’s the Champagne more than the socialism that I’m interested in.”

“I used to see T’s nanny every day at pick-up time.  Nice girl, and she said she would love to babysit – I think she needed the cash apart from anything else.  And she did a great job.  But then T accosted me at the U7s cricket match – furious, she was – and told me not to ask her nanny again.  She said she had already told her nanny not to accept any babysitting jobs just in case T needed her.  Did T need her that night? No of course not, she and J rarely get invited out.  You should have heard her: ‘I pay her out of my own taxed income,’ that sort of thing.  The usual.  Anyway, of course I’m going to ask her nanny to babysit again.”

And there will be more. You can count on that.

© 2015 SDPSM, all rights reserved.

Posted on by Joanna Reeves 0

COMMON ENTRANCE: COMMON IT IS NOT.

Prep School. Nine years of preparation. For what? The Common Entrance. Entrance it may be, but trust me, there’s nothing common about it.

From the age of four, in shorts, cap and too-big blazer, until the age of thirteen, by now with greasy hair and the hint of moustache, boys – and a very few girls – are building up to the day they move on in glory to their Senior School, hopefully one of the most illustrious in the country, equipped with an old-fashioned (and by that I mean good) education and the ability to wield a cricket bat and a hockey stick.

Should be easy, right?

Actually, wrong.

Stick around, I’ll tell you all about it. But shhhh, remember?

© 2015 SDPSM, all rights reserved.

Posted on by Joanna Reeves 0