Back to school

My parents are to blame.  Also my wife's parents.

They made each of us feel that the most important thing we could do for our children was to see that they got a good education.  I'm not saying we did perfectly in our attempts, but we certainly tried and it seems to me that the government should have a similar responsibility to the children of the land.

Right now.  Let's just leave that thought there for the moment.  I'll be back to pick it up before it goes missing.

I have watched with bemusement the various occupations of recent months.  Occupy Wall Street.  The St Pauls protesters.  One thing that does surprise me is that the authorities find it so difficult to remove the protesters.  I'm quite happy for the protesters to have their say but not day after day.  There are more important things to demonstrate about.

Like Education.

Which leads me back to the strikes planned for two days' time on 30th November.  For years, head teachers across the land have insisted to parents that their children's education is too important to be trifled with and that unexplained absences aren't acceptable.  Indeed, a good friend of mine recently put up on facebook the following

Dear Head Teacher



Thank you for your recent request for little Tommy to be absent from school during term time. As you have pointed out on several occasions, the school does have a strict policy on this subject. I therefore must decline your request.


(ref teachers striking on Nov 30th)

But what really can we do about it?

Given how important children's education is to their future, it seems wrong that it should be trifled with to make a political point.  Driving into work this morning, I wondered what would happen if parents initiated a protest of their own: perhaps choosing tomorrow to Occupy State Schools.  Perhaps little Tommy or Tamsin could take a sleeping bag and 36 hours' provisions with them when they go to school tomorrow and then refuse to leave - and indeed have their parents join them at the end of the school day?

I am not recommending this.  I just wondered what might happen, since I believe in education.  Blame my parents.

Unforgiveable

H

Well, H, you know who you are.

In the mid-1990s you had us around to dinner.  I don't remember the main course, but the dessert was a simply exquisite home-made ice cream.  Even as I write this, many years later, I find myself salivating at the happy memory, the subtle flavour, the delicious and sublime experience.  I clearly remember saying what a remarkable and excellent dessert it was and how much I had enjoyed it.

Clearly, the Code of the Hostess kicked in. On two subsequent occasions when we were invited to dinner, there was no sign of home-made ice cream.  I assume this is because the Code of the Hostess means that you are forbidden from ever serving the same thing twice.  Blow the guests: it's all about diversity.

Or did England run out of dairy products?

M

Well, M, you know who you are.  (You are not Margaret).

About ten years ago you invited us around for a meal.  You even did the decent thing, knowing what a fussy eater I am, by phoning up a few days beforehand to ask if I ate Mexican.  I clearly remember my reply "Everything other than beans."

So I was a little surprised on arrival to discover the meal consisted of a good deal of beans.  I suspect there was widespread starvation in Mexico that year as there were so many beans in the food.  I did look at the driveway afterwards to see of there were imprints from the tyres of the heavy lorries that must have been needed to deliver all these blasted beans.  Indeed there must have been a platoon of chefs and a portable kitchen required just to cook them.

I ate everything else on my plate and consequently all that was left was a plate filled to the brim with beans.  And a hungry me.  You need to remember advice given to trainee lawyers "Don't ask a question you don't know the answer to."  Strange though it may seem, when I said I don't like beans what I actually meant was I DON'T LIKE BEANS.

I am already working on the steak and kidney pudding for when you next visit us, little missy.  Lots of kidney.

R

Well, Big R, you know who you are.

It's amazing.  I won't see you for two weeks and yet the moment I open my lunch at my desk, there you are, having decided that the ideal time for a business discussion is when my mouth is full of sandwich.  Perhaps you don't like the replies I give you when my mouth is empty; possibly your preferred mode of conversation is a monologue; it may be that you have an astigmatism in your eyes that somehow makes food invisible.

Now this may be a flaw in me.  If one could go back a few million years and see my ancestors, crouched over their latest kill in the wild plains of the Serengeti, you might observe that they didn't like company while eating.  Typically this would have been because when your neolithic neighbour came across to ask how the hunt went, what they really meant was "Ooh, that looks delicious, can I have some?" and when it's taken you three weeks to hunt down the fleeting gazelle that was the best substitute available in those days for cornflakes and that only appeared on your breakfast menu because it was a sickly runt, the whole subject of sharing was something that people did not talk about in polite company.

I suspect those genes have passed down through countless generations to me.  So, Big R, listen carefully.  The only time I am happy to talk business over a meal is when you are paying.  I have a list of restaurants you could invite me to, available at a moment's notice.

I realise this limits you to only eight or nine hours a day we can chat but do be a good fellow and try.

Bad Science, Good Deal

A few years ago my older son gave me Ben Goldacre's excellent book, Bad Science.  It is, quite simply, the best non-fiction book I've read in the last 10 years.  For the rest of the week, the Kindle version is on sale at Amazon UK for just £2.49.  This is an outstanding bargain and if you don't yet have a copy, I thoroughly recommend it.

What's it about?  In essence, it's about how to make sense of a world where science meets homeopathy, how to detect fraudlent claims by politicians and people selling pills and cosmetics, how turmeric allegedly cures cancer and more.  It shows you how to be rationally sceptical without being paranoid.

An excellent read.