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Monday, 18 December 2006

State School

Tonight, in an effort to network with parents from our preferred local state primary school, I accepted an invitation to a party from an old college friend. I first met Lara in 1989, when we lived next door to each other in Halls. She has a son at the Dulwich Village Infants school. The nice people Lara introduced were not initially too dis-similar to the parents I usually socialise with (those who pay for their children's schools). The obvious difference seemed to be that they all claim to read The Guardian.

Sadly, we were a little late - not arriving until 11.30 pm, as we were forced to make a detour - dropping off Lara's new boyfriend at the casualty department of Kings College Hospital in her amazing new electric car. Oscar fell off his skate board earlier in the day and appeared to have broken his arm. He is a 22 year old art student from Colombia. I was rather pleased that Lara stopped seeing her last boyfriend ( a 21 year old labourer from the Balkans who enjoyed roller blading), as I felt that he was a little too young for her.

I was always terribly fond of Lara's ex-partner (the father of her sweet five year old son) and no-one can ever measure up to him as far as I am concerned. I constantly scold her: "These young men are arriving at your home on their toys, they are not even using grown-up methods of transport."

James travelled about in a boy toy when I met him, but a BMW Z3 M is clearly rather different. It says several things about the driver, not least of which, that he is old enough to take a driving test!

The argument - "he came onto me" wouldn't stand up in court. I am sure I read in the Daily Mail that Gary Glitter had a similar point of view regarding his own recent unfortunate situation. Lara's boyfriends are actually just that - boys. I shall not be asking her to babysit for my two little ones any time soon. Consider Gina Lollobrigida, or even Barbara Windsor (she married her best friends child - I seem to recall). No, I must think of my golden haired son. Yes he is only five years old, but he is one of the tallest boys in his year (gasp). I should not be at all surprised to see Lara's next young man gadding about on a space hopper (sigh).

On reflection, I am no longer convinced that the Dulwich Village Infants School is the right environment for my little girl. How can I be sure that Freya will not get in with a dreamy, tolerant, socially permissive lot. Before I know it - she will be piercing her nipples, meeting boys on MySpace and smoking marijuana (OHMYGOD!!!).

It is not easy being a parent, we only get the opportunity to get it right once. Freya will never get into medical school if she doesn't learn to speak Latin and play the bassoon. My decision has nothing to do with money, many of the parents I met tonight were professionals - why I was even introduced to the gentleman with the super hydraulic car port from Burbage Road (he gave me the name of his builder!). BUT he was wearing a pair of Y fronts on his head and drinking chardonnay from a pint glass. They are simply NOCD if you see what I mean. Everyone knows gentlemen wear boxer shorts.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Dulwich Mum,

You're such an arrogant and boring snob who is so up herself that she cannot relate with human beings!
Now I'm not saying one shouldn't have ambition, pride and principles as they are the fundamentals of life but to assume that you're daughter Freya will endeavour to do what you do not want her do simply because of who she might mix with in Dulwich Village Infants School is abhorrent!
Fact:- Many parents like yourself who have more money than sense are the ones whose children end up on Class A drugs, act yobbish when inebriated and utilise their bodies like mattresses!
Read "The Guardian" newspaper for you will definitely learn something, if and only IF your pea-sized, chablis soaked brain can absorb it!!!!!