Mrs. Fry's Diary (16 page)

And when I was done and my stomach was bursting,

And the squeeps were all squeeped and the squirsts were all squirsting,

I started to wander and ponder and muse,

And my muse-ponder wander brought very good news.

For as thoughts are all thunk and reasons are reasoned,

So weeks are all week and seasons are seasoned.

If this were America, then it would be fall,

But we're right here in England, so it's not fall at all.

And now it was clearer than clearer can be,

As clear as a clear-clear on a clear-clearing clee!

I giggled and jiggled and smacked my sore tum,

And I jumped up and cried, 'Why this must be autumn!'

And from that day to this, when the streets are all covered,

And the scarves are all scarfed and the gloves are all glovered,

And my brunch is all munched and my tum is sore tumnal,

I know that this season, it must be autumnal.

I sat back in my seat, exhausted. I think I can safely say that the group was more than a little taken aback by the raw power of my performance. They sat open-mouthed for what seemed an age before Angela clasped her hands together enthusiastically and announced that was the end of the session.

I'm not an insensitive person, so I waited until the rest of the class had left before asking Ms Wordsmith for her opinion of my work. She was extremely encouraging. She placed her arm round my shoulder and told me that I possessed 'a highly distinctive poetic voice'. Now, I'm not one for public displays of emotion - or private, come to that, unless it's a Sunday morning - but I have to say I had an ever-so-small skip in my step as I walked home from the community college tonight. Finally, I've been discovered!

15 Thursday

Had a letter from Miss Campbell today. She'd like us to come in on Monday so that she can talk to us about Brangelina. I can't wait. Brangelina's the only one of our children who's never had a single report. Or detention. Or criminal record.

16 Friday

Oh dear! I knew it was all going too well. Stephen Junior's just come home early from drama school. He's been thrown out of the Christmas performance. According to the letter he brought back, he is 'exhibiting levels of violent behaviour unacceptable in an educational environment - or gangland London'. The poor dear's distraught, although I expect Stephen will be delighted.

17 Saturday

Stephen's sulking this morning. I refused to wear my woodland creature costume for him last night even though he's been badgering me for ages.

18 Sunday

Felt bad about the other night so I wore my Bo Peep outfit for Stephen this morning. He was feeling a little sheepish.

19 Monday

Goodness! I've just had a call from the drama school. They've decided to reinstate Stephen Junior in the show. Not only that, but he's now playing Reggie Kray. And Ronnie. And their mother. When I asked what had made them change their mind, they just said that his father had had 'a little word'. Extraordinary!

20 Tuesday

We went to meet Brangelina's new teacher after school. Miss Campbell was extremely nice when we eventually found her, crouching in the stock-room with a Silk Cut hanging from her lips. It turns out she's only recently taken them up, but apparently the new head has some objection to staff smoking in the classroom. He said the children might suffer from passive smoking, so he obviously doesn't know them very well yet.

It's clear that in the short time Miss Campbell has been in the school, she's already managed to settle in very well. She'd made the class stock-room into something of a haven, with its candles, panic button and bible pages covering the walls. She was evidently delighted to see us, jumping up sharply the moment she saw our faces in the candlelight. Once she'd stubbed out her cigarette into the sandpit, we all took seats around her desk. Stephen shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. Sitting there, in that environment, was obviously bringing to mind all those spankings he'd received - although to be fair, I didn't think I had been any harsher than normal with him this weekend.

Miss Campbell said she'd invited us to the school so that she could discuss her first impressions of Brangelina. She said she had read through every child's school record before the beginning of term to fully acquaint herself with their academic progress and any 'issues' that might need to be addressed. Unfortunately, Brangelina's file had been destroyed in the most recent school fire - the only one that had, apparently - and none of her previous teachers were available to provide their views, owing to a combination of early retirements and sudden, inexplicable, disfiguring accidents - so she felt it might be a good idea to get 'a little background' on Brangelina.

Stephen merely sat in silence throughout, eyeing the bookshelf with suspicion, but I said I would be happy to answer any questions about our little angel. Once Miss Campbell had recovered from a small coughing fit, she pulled out a typewritten sheet from her desk drawer and began.

She asked about a variety of things, from Brangelina's birth date and blood group to more specific questions like whether she suffered from any allergies; for example, places of worship or religious artefacts?

All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable and useful meeting and I'd like to think Miss Campbell felt the same, although it was a little hard to tell as she had to dash off suddenly. I believe she said something about wanting to make it home before nightfall.

21 Wednesday

Poetry class this evening. The title of tonight's session was 'Does Poetry Always Have to Rhyme?' Ms Wordsmith apologised for asking such a simplistic question but she clearly hadn't accounted for the philistines who make up the rest of her class, as every single one of them contrived to get the answer wrong. It was left to me to put them right, as usual. They're clearly not poets and they don't know its.

22 Thursday

Oh dear. Just got a phone call from school. They've discovered that Brangelina's been demanding dinner money with menaces. Apparently, the teachers are very concerned as they say their salary isn't that great to begin with. They want me to go in for another meeting. Honestly, I spend more time in that place than my kids!

23 Friday

I was a little concerned to receive an email this morning from Mr deClarkson. He writes that in an attempt to improve the health of the pupils and thereby increase concentration levels in the classroom, the school will be introducing a new Five-a-Day scheme. I was horrified. Of course, I rang Mrs Winton immediately but she explained that Five-a-Day had something to do with fruit and vegetables and not what Stephen has been telling me all these years.

24 Saturday

Another weekend taxi job for Stephen. I've no idea where he's driving to but I know what his sat nav's like. According to Twitter, he's visiting a rhino reserve in Ghana. I don't know why I even bother looking at it. I'd be far better off occupying my mind with something more intellectually demanding. Maybe I'll search for something. I'll try Ask Wooster . . .

25 Sunday

I suppose I should be getting to bed - the kids will be up soon, wanting their breakfast, and I really can't be bothered with all that. I just wish they wouldn't make these websites so addictive. Online Happy Families wasn't really my cup of tea - for some reason I just couldn't get to grips with the concept - but online Ker-Plunk's got me completely hooked. Just one more round and I'm in the big final to face Mickey 'the Marbles' Mulligan.

26 Monday

Still not convinced by this Five-a-Day lark so I've come up with my own alternative - Ednables. Each small pack contains everything a child requires to help them cope with the strains and stresses of the school day, as well as providing them with the energy they need - three Benson & Hedges, a can of Red Bull and a slice of my special recipe Short Attention Spam, to keep them focused over those short, intense concentration periods such as registration. I've already got a dozen orders from the other parents. It's a pity I've chosen to eschew the world of commerce in order to follow my muse; I'd make a killing.

27 Tuesday

Had quite a surprise when I went in to Brangelina's school this morning. I was expecting to just see her teacher again, but I was shown to the headmaster's office. I've not met Mr deClarkson face to face but he seemed quite a personable young man - almost dashing, you might say. He got on my good side straight away when he said that Brangelina was 'clearly a very special little girl' - I certainly couldn't argue with that.

He said it had been brought to his attention that Brangelina was exhibiting 'specific non-positive personality traits' which appeared to be having 'a detrimental effect on her in-school experience', as well as that of her classmates, the teachers and the school tortoise. To that end, he said, he and a team of specialists - including the Head of Learning Support, a behavioural psychologist and the school exorcist - had drawn up an individual plan which contained certain targets he hoped Brangelina would be capable of attaining. Apparently, Brangelina was currently on level one of the plan - 'working towards not being the Antichrist'.

I must say it makes such a pleasant change to talk to someone who really listens and cares about the important things. And has such nice wallpaper too.

28 Wednesday

Stephen spent all day in his shed again today. Goodness knows what he gets up to in there. I know for a fact his Scalextric won't fit and his magazines are all under the bed. Whatever it is, he clearly finds it more interesting than spending time with me. Well, two can play at that game. I'm off to my poetry class. At last I have an interest befitting my intellect. Tonight, we're going to be using the iambic pentameter. I just hope I don't drop it.

29 Thursday

Had lunch with Mrs Norton and Mrs Winton. The Happy Carnivore's closed while the owner assists Environmental Health with their enquiries, so we were forced to go instead to MacBeth's - or as the proprietor Ms Bethany Hurley (a leading light in the local amateur dramatic scene) calls it, 'the Scottish vegetarian cafe'. Mrs Winton and Mrs Norton had the Burnham Wood-smoked Soya and Couscous Calzone, while I satisfied myself with the Duncan Doughnut.

Following our usual free-ranging chat, I hesitantly brought up my concerns about Stephen - the long hours he spends on the road, and recently the even longer hours in his shed. I knew it was a mistake the minute I opened my mouth. Mrs Norton seemed only too keen to be distracted from her meal and I was subjected to a stream of banal platitudes and homilies. In the end, it was left to Ms Hurley to give me the advice I needed. As she cleared my plate she said curtly, 'Sounds like you need to have a look in his shed, love.'

Of course! It was all so simple. I left the other ladies to finish their meals and shot straight off home. At last I knew the way forward. Better to know what was going on than continue a life of worry and uncertainty. As I headed down the street, my head was full of calm and soothing thoughts, interrupted only by Mrs Norton's plaintive cry, 'When shall we three eat meat again?'

30 Friday

Stephen's out in his cab taking a fare to an address a couple of streets away, so I should have a few hours to carry out my little plan. I suddenly feel a little sick. What will I find? Oh well, here goes nothing . . .