The news where you are

As predicted, cat wrestling was big on the agenda yesterday. I roped my poor mother into helping me. A bad hip does not help whilst trying to extract cats from the backs of wardrobes nor whilst thrusting them into wicker baskets, and an extra pair of hands was most welcome.

Also as predicted, the cat has conjunctivitis and cream must be applied twice a day, so more cat wrestling will be forthcoming for the week. The cat and I are now in a cooling off period in our relationship where we both bloody hate the sight of each other. On top of the £70 for the treatment of her tail, I have forked out another £50 for her eyes. I am convinced that she is jealous of the tortoise because Tiberius is an expensive, posh pet, where she was but an abandoned guttersnipe. She has determined upon a course of action in which each hair on her mangy body will now be worth more than diamonds and by Christmas she will be the most costly pet in the Western hemisphere.

Oscar managed a whole day at school without anyone ringing me, breaking out in boils, all his hair falling out, etc. Praise Cheezus. Although he has a final check up this evening to make sure we can take down the festive, yellow plague bunting that has adorned the house for weeks. I am taking no risks.

To say that he is mournful is the understatement of the year. He hates being back at school and it is currently like living with Marvin the paranoid android. I am hoping he will perk up by the end of the week or I may have to put valium in his tea.

Tallulah’s cough/sore throat seem a little better. She is taking the preservation of self in order to go on this outward bound holiday very seriously. She has vetoed certain trampoline activities for the next week; ‘in case I break any bones, mama.’ I am pleased. Sadly it has not stopped her singing Taylor Swift’s entire back catalogue at the top of her lungs, something which might get her killed more quickly than a trampoline accident if she doesn’t learn to shut the bedroom door.

Matilda bumbles on in her own sweet way. All exams finished last week, but this week they are apparently doing ISAs. I thought an ISA was some kind of government funded savings scheme, so I am completely confused. I find this happens a lot with schooling, particularly anything to do with grades. Grades are unbelievably complex these days. I do not understand, for example, why getting a 9C might be better than getting a 4B. No wonder teachers look permanently bewildered. I think smiley faces and gold stars should be the order of the day. You know where you are with a gold star.

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