I went to Whirling Dervish’s school’s Christmas Fayre.
I don’t think I’ve been to an event like this since I left primary school *mumble, mumble* years ago.
My, how times have changed.
For a start, let me get this off my chest. In a packed tiny school hall with steps the only way in and out DO NOT STAND THERE FIVE ABREAST WITH BUGGIES HAVING A CHAT, also don’t glare when my handbag clonks you in the arm. Where am I meant to go?
Perhaps a little unfamiliar with the school-gate-stand-and-have-a-natter way of doing things.
Before we even got there I had a wardrobe crisis – these are exceedingly rare. Today, for example, I am wearing clothes as close to pjs as I can get away with at work.
I don’t know if Whirling Dervish’s Mum does the school drop herself in the morning, if she stands and chats with other mums (I don’t think she did before she went on maternity leave), if she is actual friends with them, what they’ve been told about Husband, what they’ve been told about me….. Aaarrgghhh!!
I don’t really know what impression I wanted to give (perfect ‘new’ wife, fun and friendly part of WD’s life but not over-stepping bounds and being too parental?), apart from not this…
Even though everyone was caught up in the hustle and bustle of the fayre I felt like I might be under surveillance at any time and all and every interaction with Whirling Dervish and Husband must be perfection. This led to near vomiting on my part as we spent most of the time in the disco room with me spinning WD around, a lot, when ordinarily I would have said enough at some point.
As it turned out Whirling Dervish didn’t see anyone there from her class (and therefore no parents) and we had a good old festive giggle.
As an extra note, Christmas fayres have changed A LOT. The main hall was a showcase for all things Etsyesque with professional stalls and professional prices! It took a great deal of seeking to find a proper tombola stall in a back classroom – four tickets for a pound to win someone’s old shower gel. That’s more like it!