I think I may have a battle ahead…
So, my fresh new Year Seven child has been getting on the bus now for eleven days. It’s becoming a bit less scary for both of us as each day passes. And, as of yesterday, she even owns a shiny, hologrammed, very official-looking credit-card-style bus pass to brandish about. She’s chuffed with that.
Bless her.
But I think I may have started a little war with the bus company that I am not sure I am going to win.
Oh crikey.
I’m fine at starting these things. I confidently sent a long, pedantic letter detailing all my minute concerns about the location of the bus pick-up point. ( I refuse to call it a “bus stop”, as there is a perfectly good one down the road which they seem to have chosen to ignore.) I can provide varied and accurate evidence in support of moving said pick-up point. But what happens when the bus company digs its heels in? Do I give in?
I suspect I won’t. So there may be a small amount of mildly aggressive confrontation to come. And I’m not fine with that. I’m rubbish at that. It makes me go all wobbly.
But enough about the bus stop. Currently, the situation is “ongoing”. It may be that way for some time.
On a positive note, it is FRIDAY! Little Seymour#1 is about to get two days off from the rigours of her life as it is at the moment. Two weeks in and she’s already earned herself seven merit points, discovered Bunsen burners and mastered the art of making coleslaw. All in all, I consider that a successful fortnight.
And I, Mummy Seymour, have started a blog – a diary, really, in an effort to claw back some understanding of this fast-paced life we are all leading. I don’t know if it will work, but I am rather enjoying it. I feel a bit like Samuel Pepys. Or Doogie Howser MD. Or Adrian Mole. As Jilly Cooper once wrote: “… a diary is a convenient dumping ground for one’s grievances, and, having once dumped them, I would usually be falling on my temporary foes’ necks within twenty-four hours.”
But I won’t tell the bus company that.
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