I told you the other day about reports that came through to me that our youngest, Lottie, was having her hair dyed purple. It transpired she didn’t and it was just a rather puerile attempt to wind me up, but the worm is definitely now turning. I regret to say she has started life in the Perse sixth form with a bit of attitude in evidence. Her skirt on the first day back was just a little too short; the black trousers she wore the following day cut illegally above the ankle, whilst her top was a florid black and brown shirt bought when she was at Reading Festival. There has also been just a suggestion of some lippiness. She related over supper that she had corrected a young English teacher who had spoken grammatically incorrectly in one of their lessons. Then on Friday she surpassed herself for the chutzpah of it.
I arrived home to discover she was up in her room supposedly knocking out some prep. At the risk of interrupting her finely honed academic focus I tentatively knocked on her door as I called to say that I was back, but I need not have worried about disturbing her train of thought. She shoved her i-phone to one side and looked up with a self-satisfied and mischievous grin on her face cocking her head to reveal a freshly pierced ear. A small gold stud now adorned her pinna, if I’m to be anatomically correct, just up from the ring in her lobe which has been there since her 15th birthday.
“What ho!”, I exclaimed to myself, holding onto my sense of equilibrium which had survived a relatively unchallenging commute back from the office that evening. There’s a lot of that sort of thing about these days isn’t there. I’ve even noticed some of Sophie’s friends have multiple ear piercings. “Looking good Lottie! When did you get then done?” “Oh, long story” she said gleefully.
It’s not massively interesting to be honest so I’ll spare you every bit of detail. Suffice to say, she had discovered that she had been unilaterally signed up for a session of orienteering during Friday afternoon’s “activities” slot. If that was not unappealing enough, it involved a trip to the outskirts of Cambridge to traipse around the Magog Hills. No, up with this she would not put. She and a friend decided they’d never be missed if they didn’t actually get on the bus. Instead they settling down in a classroom for a peaceful afternoon on Snapchat but shortly they were discovered by a teacher who, whilst not knowing which activity they were meant to be doing, at least was aware they were not meant to be sitting around in a classroom and so duly despatched them. With the afternoon now stretching idly ahead they settled on a wander along Hills Road to Costa and there, sipping a soy latte or whatever, they agreed that they might as well make the time count. So they walked a little further down the road to a tattoo and piercing parlour where the job was done. Chutzpah….yes, that’s the word for it at this point. Don’t worry. I’m watching her like a hawk now I can tell you.
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