So I was watching the Murray-Nadal final when my mobile phone (on silent) vibrated. There was a message from an unknown number. “No school tomorrow” it read. This was good news. Jet-lag had set in and getting up at 6.30am was not a great prospect. But who was this mystery bringer of good tidings?
“Great,” I replied. “Are you sure?” I was hoping the response would give me some clue as to who it was. It came within seconds. “Yes,” it read.
Rupert and I congratulated each other on our good fortune and then continued to watch the tennis. Then my brain started working. Why was someone from a French school sending me messages in English? None of the mothers speak to me in English, the teachers are all French. There was only one thing for it. I called the number.
“This is Angela,” said a voice. Angela is staying with us. Angela has a blackberry. Olivia and Bea have been taught by my friend Mo to use a Blackberry. They don’t like school.
I was not sure whether to be furious or rather proud of their high-tech skiving attempt. Whatever else it made us laugh and brought back memories of tricks I used to pull, like putting the thermometer on a hot light bulb before showing it to my mother. That seems rather old-fashioned in comparison.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2009