aaaarrrggghhh!

I need to vent. And it would be wrong to go bitching in the school playground, so you get it instead, soz.

Yes it's the flaming primary school. So here's the thing, Twins had been coming home from school saying that their PE bags (the same ones they've had for the past three years, proper school PE bags bought from Clarkes along with their sensible school shoes) are no longer allowed. Because they're pink. I fail to see how having a bag in school colours is likely to make my children run faster, jump higher or be better at catching a ball, but after a heated discussion with the Head on the subject, I wound my neck back in, apologised in writing, and went out to buy two new PE bags - mainly because I didn't want the girls to get hassle from their class teachers.

After buying said PE bags today, I went to pick the girls up from school. Twin 2 was in her PE kit. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: Oh, you've just had PE - how was it?
Her: Not good. The PE teacher didn't know I had a disability.
Me: Oh dear.
Her: I told him and he said we'd go somewhere else to talk about it, but we didn't.

Call me an oversensitive, pushy middle-class parent (go on, I bet all the teachers at the school do), but to me a school that prioritises the colour of PE bags above the actual well-being of a physically disabled pupil in a PE class has its priorities somewhat out of whack.

Yes, I'm livid.

On the plus side, I'm so angry that I just went for the fastest run I've done in weeks, and I did sixty seven sit ups and thirty three press ups afterwards.

We didn't even make it as far as Beeston. And Hubby has gone back to work. Son started school today - the beginning of the new school year always makes me feel a bit emotional, because you realise that they're one step closer to leaving home forever. However, after Son left in his neat and clean (but not for long) new uniform, I began to feel that I wouldn't mind the Twins being a couple of steps closer to leaving home forever, the pair of angry screeching loonies. Ended up being a productive day, though, buying socks and football boots and pants and polo shirts and trainers and - oh, how did those half price  wedges slip into the sensible uniform-buying basket, hmmm? I couldn't possibly say, but once they were paid for it did seem like a bit of a pfaff to take them back, especially as they will look so nice with the leather trousers, and did I mention that they were half price?

I'm hiding in the cabin keeping quiet. Hubby (aka Skipper/Cap'n/Man of Wrath) is by the heads, clearing up broken glass and cursing to himself. It's one of the many things that haven't quite gone according to plan with this whole water-gypsy lifestyle we are embracing. The plan was that we'd be in a nice mooring in Essex by now, having enjoyed a wonderful couple of weeks exploring England's glorious waterways on the best family holiday ever. Instead, here we are in Nottingham Boatyard, waiting for the chippy and plumber to finally finish sorting out all the snags. There's a slim chance we may make it a couple of miles up the Beeston Canal tomorrow. Just in time for the end of the hols. Best laid plans and all that, I s'pose. At least we remembered to bring the whiskey. x