Fraulein Frenzy on the Midnight Coach . . .

WatchWith the precision of an expensive timepiece the Mercedes Benz coach purred round the corner EXACTLY at the allotted time of Midnight.  I would expect nothing less from our German travellers.  The much-awaited moment had come.  The braver parents (self included) stood on the pavement outside school while the remainder were invisible in the darkness of their parked cars.  A cacophony of partially broken voices splintered the silence twenty feet or so away.  Their german teacher arrived and made 'shushing' noises.  As I looked on, I admired her spirit – she was surrounded by boys whom, for the most part, were a good foot taller!

As the coach drew to a halt, there was a rush of young ladies to the front.  Now, it may have been the lighting in the coach, but I felt sure they'd been busy with combs and make-up bags since the M4 turn off, 45 minutes away!  Son's name was called first and he stepped forward to greet his guest . . . the young ladies oggled . . . and he waited . . . in the assessing gaze of the Frauleins.  What was the problem?  Had our visitor been left at Gatwick or done a runner?

Perhaps I should explain the presence of the girls.  This is a trip arranged jointly by The High School for Girls (girls grammar) and Sir Thomas Rich's (boys grammar).  Girls to be dropped off later in the Tesco Car Park (might be handy if cosmetic supplies running low (open 24-hours)) to reduce disruption to the neighbouring dwellings.  Why no such arrangements for those near Tommies?  At last, Tom appeared, his luggage having finally been retrieved from the bowels of the bus. 

I was struck by a mop of curls, big brown eyes and a pleasant grin.  If son allowed hair to grow longer, he'd have a mop of curls too.  Decided they had to go when old ladies insisted on touching his hair and opponents thought it fair game to grab a handful of locks during rugby scrums!  By the time we arrived home (10 minutes max), it felt as though we'd known Tom forever.  Having deposited his worldly goods in his room he reappeared with several gifts and chocolate.  Yep, this lad could stay! 

Parents at school had been amused at how physically alike the pairings were, with one exception.  Son's best mate is 6' 1" tall and only turned 15 in December.  His guest would have to go on 'the rack' to make 5' 0"!  Little and Large moved off into the night. 

I trawled my mind for German phrases – my version of 'Good afternoon' in Tom's mother tongue didn't really hit the spot at 1.15am!  Asked what he liked for breakfast.  He said "bread".  No probs, I can slap a couple of slices of Wonderloaf on a plate along with the best of 'em.  My celebration was premature for he followed with, "but I like to try English breakfast".  Gawd, frying pans before first Breakfast light?  Now then, where's the nearest truckers watering hole?  Could he walk there on his way to school?  Am I being just a tad lazy?  Placate my inner guilt by telling self I don't want him to feel queasy on his first morning at school.  Let's explore the toasted wholemeal tomorrow.  Healthy, wholesome and easy.  The 'full English' might have to wait until the weekend.  But I'm in London on Saturday.  That leaves Sunday.  Idea forming.  If I do a brunch, will I get away with not doing a roast?  Don't think so.  Somehow feel Sunday's going to be a catering fest.  

Poor kid was exhausted having left home at 6.30am in the morning and not arrived here until Midnight.  Mind you, after all the cleaning, recycling and donating to charity shops I'd done during the preparatory 'mucking out', I felt like I'd been run over.  Head finally hit the pillow at 2am. 

This is going to be fun!  I like him.  He likes us.  He will eat anything except the round red things.  This is a toss up between tomatoes and beetroot.  He hates beetroot.  Think I can manage to avoid that.  This evening he said my spag bol was delicious and he positively beamed at the sight of the Muller twin pots!

No related posts.

Please Leave A Comment...