Christmas Jumper Day.

After a minor skirmish over whether or not you should wear anything other than a Christmas jumper on ‘Christmas Jumper Day’ (He seemed to find my insistence on adding underwear and trousers frankly unreasonable) Freddie departed for school. In exchange for the opportunity to wear a piece of eye-bogglingly vulgar acrylic knitwear instead of the regulation navy-blue sweatshirt, we are expected to contribute cakes for the Christmas Fair (thankfully, for health and safety reasons they do not accept home-made donations, in case you didn’t wash your hands first, or couldn’t resist making ball-bearing cupcakes in the hope of choking the kid who taught your child to say ‘**** off”). So I tucked two boxes of carefully chosen cakes (ball-bearing free, I swear) into his school bag. 

At least, they were cakes. When the minibus arrived Freddie grabbed said bag and launched it the full length of the hall (so much better than carrying it all the way to the front door).

Probably best eaten with a spoon now …

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