Did They Call Esther ?

Esther Rantzen that is. The sort of celebrity. You know - the Childline charity lady who’s done such a great job giving children in distress a number to call and a friendly voice to listen to when they plea for help.

You see – J has gone back to Manchester for a week to help sort out her mum’s affairs. It’s now accepted that neither Kath nor Fred will be returning to their home, so J and her sisters will be clearing out 80 years of momentos and memories and readying the property for sale. It’s all seems to be happening with unseemly haste but with the government insisting that if you have more than £14,000 of assets, you have to contribute to your care, and if you have little in the way of cash savings, there’s no other solution than to sell the family home. Sad but true.

Anyway, back to Childline. When J disappears off back to the UK (as she’s doing quite regularly at the moment), the kids are left under my sole custody and as I’m not their biological father (DNA test maybe ?) there’s all sorts of risks that it could all blow up and world war three breaks out. But – and this astonishes everybody who has heard the screams of outrage from Kitty, the stomping tantrums of Guy and the 200 decibel bawling from yours truly when we’re all at home, that when J is away, peace – absolute peace reigns.

Take last Thursday, our first day. J went off in the morning and so I had to pick the kids up from the bus stop on the scooter in the afternoon – one at a time of course. Normally, there are howls of protest from one or other of them as I try and remember who was first to be ferried home the last time, but not yesterday. Kitty climbed onto the pillion seat and there was not a sound of dissent from Guy. Once in the house, they mooched around for something to eat stating that when J is away, I always prepare some hot little snacks for them after school but I couldn’t yesterday as I was in hall painting mode. But again – no protest. No slamming of doors. No kicking the dog or slamming the cats’ tails in the patio doors as a way of showing their displeasure with life Chez Brin d’Olivier. They just fixed something for themselves and let me get on with my jobs.

There was no fighting over the remote control for the TV, and when dinner was ready, there were no arguments about who should lay the table, fill up the water jug or who should clear the dishes afterwards. They even said dinner was nice!

And, having been awake at 4.30am that morning, by the time 8.30pm came, I was flagging. I think my eyelids fluttered closed for a few seconds which prompted some words of concern from Guy about my state of tiredness. Thereupon I announced that at 9pm we’d all be going to bed. Not a protest. No screaming. Am I dreaming it? But then, after they’d gone downstairs, I noticed the phone had gone with them. Maybe they phoned Esther?

PS - this morning, first school day of the week and usually when war breaks out at breakfast, they were amazingly well behaved. No arguing with Kitty about going to school looking like Kate Moss on a night out. No arguing with Guy at all about anything. I'm concerned !