MY YELLOW DUSTER

The head of an all girls' school had a letter in last week's Times, extolling the virtues of single sex education. I wholeheartedly agreed with everything she said until she added that she was trying to get a ps on the school motto stating "I did not emerge from the womb holding a duster." What feminist clap-trap. My career as a journalist might not have been on Fleet Street, but a career I did have and I can honestly say that nothing I achieved in the office could compare to the feeling of satisfaction I got when I flopped into a comfy chair with a cup of coffee after having cleaned the house from top to bottom using my trusty yellow duster.
Raising children, cleaning, baking and taking a pride in the home are jobs that should not be demeaned and to my mind are every bit as important as moving up a rung on the career ladder.

Instead of a stick to kill people with, Oscar took a spanner into Sunday School today. I wasn't sure how he would weave it into the Bible story and I even found myself thinking up reasons that we could give, if questioned. As luck would have it, he found a drum more interesting and I was able to slip the spanner into my bag. Half way through the service he piped up in a loud voice "when are we getting the bread and wine grandma?" Sticks, spanners, cups of wine........ I can see we're going to be viewed as partners in crime.

My mother spent a couple of days in hospital last week. So for reassurance I got her a big red mobile phone with large numbers to keep in her bedroom  in case she ever felt too unwell to get to her phone in the kitchen. I instructed her never to turn it off and to leave it on the table next to the bed. When I called on her today I saw that the phone was not on the table next to the bed. "No," she said, "It's in its box in my wardrobe so that it doesn't get dusty."

OPTIME!

Today I received a certificate showing that I have passed my first Latin exam. I really should now go on to level two but with a wedding coming up in three weeks and with serious sunbathing to do, I'm delaying it until the autumn. I know this is a stupid thing to do because if Latin is anything like the two-year German course I did, I'll have forgotten every single word, to say nothing of the nominative and accusative by the time I re-enrol.

Oscar started Sunday School last week and I did wonder how it might go when he picked up a stick in his garden on the way and announced that it was to "kill people with". I managed to persuade him to leave it outside the church door until we left and once inside he entered into the spirit of the occasion wholeheartedly, banging a tabourine throughout the hymns. Picking out the word that interested him most from the "wicker's" sermon - "died" , he got right to the nub of the whole of Christianity and asked me how Jesus came to life after he had died. I think I'll ask the Sunday School teacher to explain that one.

Our older son is at the Glasgow International Art Fair this weekend and apparently he's had trouble making himself understood due to an accent he didn't know he had. He booked into a b&b near the venue after reading some positive reviews. Last night he sent us a picture of his room's walls:

I rather think the picture says a thousand words that reviewers have left out.

ANYONE FOR TENNIS?

My husband used to be a whizz at tennis, winning every local trophy possible, but it's a number of years since he played. Oscar seemed to be showing an interest the other day, while playing in the garden so I left him and grandad to it while I prepared the lunch.

By the time lunch was ready, Oscar was doing full serves and batting every ball back that was thrown to him. I couldn't believe it, I'll have to leave them alone together more often. I think my husband has found his forte.

Oscar is to be a pageboy at his uncle's wedding next month (shyness and tantrums permitting)  and has tried on his very smart suit. His uncle rang on Monday while Oscar was with us and they spoke. Oscar said that he liked his new suit because it made him look like Batman. Apparently, that night he told his daddy that he thought he might wear his skeleton suit to the wedding, adding: "That would be a nice idea, wouldn't it?"

A MIXED BUNCH

On Mondays we're lucky, because we look after three-and-a-half year old Oscar and his baby brother Hugo - our grandsons. This Monday, after dropping Oscar off at his little pre-school group, I brought Hugo to our house as usual, put the front door key in the lock and it refused to turn. Hugo took a seat on the porch floor while I continued to grapple. No luck. I got on all fours and peered into the keyhole - a piece of the  lock had parked itself right across the middle of the hole. What to do. My husband was out at golf and turns his phone off, and even if he came home, what could he do? Nightmare. I called my friend and neighbour who fortunately was at home and then I went over and got a scewer from her kitchen drawer. Every time I managed to move the bit that was blocking the centre of the hole, it jumped back again. By this time Hugo was fed up and my back and knees were aching. My friend ran over bearing a sharp knife. It seemed to work and with trembling fingers I pushed the key into the lock - it took a couple of hard turns but then something wonderful happened and I could open my own front door - what a relief.
The following day I spent the morning shopping in town, for five birthdays. Gift cards were purchased, boxes, cards, wrapping paper etc etc. I limped back to the car, worn out and put the shopping in the boot. But wait. Where was the bag from Boots with the gift cards, the much-needed vitamins, supplements, pain killers and cosmetics? One thing was certain, it wasn't in my hand or in the boot. My stomach was churning. I had been to so many shops that I didn't know where to begin. I was too tired to retrace my steps and the car park fee would jump another £6 if I didn't get moving.
I got home and made light of the situation to my husband who was demanding to know just how much money I had lost that morning. I sprinted up to the bedroom and rang three of the shops I'd visited. Not there. Someone was obviously having a field day, spending my gift vouchers, taking my supplements and using my make-up. Then I rang Clinton Cards. It was there, waiting for me behind the counter! Joy of joys! I've been lucky twice in two days. I don't think I'll be pushing my luck again, any time soon.

I managed to get another letter in the Times today:

Beyond the cringe

For those readers from Merseyside, Ladies’ Day at Ascot has just as many faults as the equivalent at Aintree

Sir, I can reassure Robert Crampton (Times Modern, Apr 17) that, here on Merseyside, our cringes when watching coverage of Ladies’ Day at Ascot almost equal the number of times we hide behind the settee during the same event at Aintree.

Deb Atkinson
Southport, Merseyside

THE DALES

Just back from a lovely weekend in the Yorkshire Dales. This is one of my favourite places anyway but combine it with 72 degree wall-to-wall sunshine, and you have perfection. Even the sheep were smiling.

We found a really lovely place to stay - the 16th century,  Borrowby Mill - set in the middle of hilly woodland, with rabbits running past the front door and spring flowers everywhere, this really was a find. The friendly owners told us that they were in the middle of filming for Channel 4's Four in a Bed, a programme where four sets of b&b owners visit each other's properties and try to find fault. The series is to be screened in August and I can't wait to see it, because there truly is not a fault to be found. Tea and cakes on arrival, a most beautiful bedroom overlooking hills and dales and an Aga-cooked breakfast on starched white linen with silverware and crystal.



We're going to book again pretty sharpish because I'm pretty sure that once the programme has been screened, there won't be a vacancy for months - if not years!

Oscar and Hugo have been enjoying the warm weather too

Oscar's daddy told me that while we were away he took Oscar to Halford's to get a pair of wiper blades. Oscar led the way and told his daddy that he'd find the man to ask. Apparently he went running off and found "the man" . "Excuse me," he said, "have you got a pair of errrm......."  ".......curtains?" well, wiper blades are pretty difficult words to remember at three!

THE DEN

When Oscar comes to play, the first thing he does is check that no-one has touched his den. It is under the stairs and contains a number of items which give him his super powers. My husband and I are allowed in from time to time, as long as we get every inch of our bodies - right down to our toes - inside the den. I always make sure I take a couple of Neurofen before his visits.

I had another letter in The Times today.

Mother knows best

A reader suggests that if you want to know what your skin will be like you should look at your mother’s

Sir, While grateful for Sarah Vine’s suggestion that Clarins HydraQuench Intensive Serum Bi-Phase might give me skin like the Queen’s, I won’t be splashing out on a jar (times modern, Mar 21).

Over the years I have followed the often expensive advice of numerous beauty experts and have come to the conclusion that it’s all in the genes, not the serum. If you want to know what your skin will be like — look at your mother’s.
Deb Atkinson
Southport, Merseyside

THE DINO EXPERT

Oscar's pre-school group has a dinosaur bin with a "danger keep out" sign on it, underneath,  the sign adds "experts only". Oscar must have thought long and hard about this because today another line was tagged on proclaiming "Oscar is an expert", which is possibly why he's in the bin.