by Amanda Egan
Had to sit in the driveway of the house for a while to get my mouth to close, before I finally got out of the car. Wow, I thought F&J’s house was a humdinger but … this one! No wonder she didn’t want to leave the hired help alone. If I lived there, though, I’d get around it by taking myself to another wing.
Fenella was just getting out of her car as I pulled my drooling tongue back in.
“Hey, Sweedie. Will you look at this? We’re certainly going up in the world aren’t we? Josh would love it but I find it just a little too ostentatious. Anyway, shall we?” She teetered across the gravel drive in her baby blue heels while I tried not to clomp my way in the only boots that went with the jeans - but they’re lovely soft leather and the heel was still ‘this season’ when I last checked.
Sharon (the Chair), or ‘Shaaaron’ as we were told it was pronounced (yeah I bet), was very welcoming and led us through the massive entrance hall, past endless rooms which seemed to have rooms leading off yet more rooms, through to the back of the house to a huge sunny conservatory overlooking a vast garden with, seemingly, also no end.
We were offered Earl Grey tea or Elderflower but my poor toxic body was screaming for a shot of caffeine. Had just opted for the Earl Grey when Fenella said,
“Would it be terribly forward of me to ask if you have any coffee? Just bog standard instant is great but I’m just gagging for a cup.”
‘Shaaaron’ made a huge show of, “How terribly rude you must think me. Yes, yes of course, I’ll get Tuanang to get the cafetière out - I know we don’t keep instant. Never think to offer it now as I haven’t touched a drop myself for years.”
Felt like a big wuss as I sipped my Earl Grey, when all I craved was coffee but was too shy to ask. Didn’t even know it was ‘the done thing to do’ - guess it’s a bit like ordering ‘off menu’. Must make a note for next time. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly drink white wine. Could I perhaps have a Bollinger?”
Spent the next two hours going over our rep and Christmas Fair duties. The repping should be easy peasy (organise a couple of coffee mornings and a class dinner) but the fair looks a mammoth task.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you both for taking this on. It was beginning to look like it would fall to me this year and I really am so bogged down with my charity work now, I just didn’t feel up to it. Once you’ve got all your outside traders booked up with your fancy goods - you know jewellery, candles, handbags etc - you’ve really only got to allocate each class an activity to run on the day and you’re away. Anyway, I think you’ll find it’s all fairly self explanatory from the notes supplied by previous organisers.”
She then gave us each four massive files and told us to give her a call if we had any queries. Although Thursdays between 9 and 11 was really the only time she would be available as her schedule was “fiendishly tight” at the moment.
Had a quick coffee in the park on the way home (I was spitting feathers for one by then) and noticed Fenella looked a little pale at the thought of the challenge ahead.
“Oh boy, Libby. What have I got us into?” she whimpered. “I’m so sorry. Do you absolutely hate me?”
Have to say I felt really sorry for her and tried to be the up-beat one.
“Of course not, Fenella. I’m sure once we’ve been through our files it won’t be nearly as bad as it seems. Let’s both go through them on our own tonight and then get together tomorrow and compare notes. We’ll be fine … I’m sure … really I am.”
Realised I didn’t sound very convincing but lying has never come easily to me. I was always the one caught at school. “Libby Edgington, have you been smoking?” All the others were quick to deny but not me. “Yes Sir, I have,” I’d readily confess. Then I’d get in even more trouble for appearing defiant. Who says, honesty is the best policy?”
Wasn’t about to let on to Fenella that I was, in fact, shitting it. Made a quick getaway on the pretext of having to be early to pick Max up from nursery.
Will spend an hour going through the notes tonight and hopefully all will become clearer.
Friday 6th June
Am writing this slumped at the kitchen table as I didn’t make it to bed last night.
Ned found me here this morning, surrounded by my files. Felt so sorry for me, he took Max to nursery and said he’d work from home today so that he can collect him too.
And that’s why I’m still here in my dressing gown at 11.30, slurping on my third cold coffee in a bid to wake myself up enough to get dressed.
Might be in shock as every now and then I make a sound bordering on a whinny. And it’s accompanied with a little involuntary shudder.
When the landline rang, it didn’t quite compute with my brain and I couldn’t understand why nobody answered when I flipped open my mobile. After a fleeting ‘D’oh’ moment, I realised my mistake and picked up the home phone.
All I could hear was another little whinnying sound and, for a moment, thought it was me again. Then I realised who it was.
“Seems as if you’ve been struck by the same dreadful disease as me.” I said.
“What, ‘Christmas-Fair-itis?” Fenella replied.
“That’s the one. Look … need sleep … must go … can’t fight it any longer. Wine later … here 7pm?” Seemed to be finding it impossible to speak in full sentences.
“Sleep … good … wine… seven … later.” Fenella was finding the talking thing difficult too.
Unable to write anymo …
Saturday 7th June
Finally surfaced from bed yesterday at 5pm. Had quick shower and fed Max, Dog and growing puppies.
Ned and Josh had already spoken and decided to go to the pub while Fenella and I did our Christmas Fair stuff. Then, when they came back, we’d all have a take away. Josh had even booked a babysitter while Fenella slept.
Ned popped to the ‘offie’ for emergency supplies. “Think you may be needing it, don’t you?” he asked jokingly.
Fenella and I were halfway through our second bottle when we stopped and studied our abbreviated list.
Make sure all outside traders are booked by May - the quality ones get booked very early for Christmas.
May? We’re stuffed! Only tat on sale this year then.
Decide on activity for each class to run. Purchase all equipment needed. Give full written instructions. Organise rota for the day - half hour slot per helper.
And this is for seven classes - nursery through to year 6!
Organise grotto for Santa. Buy and wrap 300 gifts (to accommodate siblings) - age and sex appropriate. Locate decorations for grotto. Book three Santa’s and allocate their time slots. Enlist help of five elves to be present. (‘Elf and Safety’ states that Santa cannot be left alone with a child at any time so must have elf chaperones at all times)
We laughed for a long while about the logic behind that one. All the Santas would be fathers from the school anyway, but what was the sense of trying to control a potential problem by throwing even more small children at it?
Decide on food and refreshments. Observe list of Health and Safety requirements. Including: No hot drinks without lids, no nuts, no sharp implements, no sweets. Beg or bribe unsuspecting mothers to take food stall. Always the least popular task, so start putting feelers out ASAP.
As unpopular as the actual organisation of the Fair? We are most definitely doomed.
Start to plan circulars/letters for donations required i.e.: tombola, used toys/books, cakes, raffle. Ideally a letter should go to each child every week to keep the Fair in forefront of everyone’s minds and the donations more generous.
That’s about 1,800 letters then! Must stock up on printer ink.
Make sure each mother donates at least one (nut-free) cake or cupcakes to the cake stall. All donations to be left in school hall the day prior to the Fair. Cakes then need to be wrapped in attractive, coordinated cellophane and ribbons. Any previously wrapped must be unwrapped and conform to outline above.
Will my trusty
‘Moist Muffins’ want to conform, I wonder? Worried they may be under more scrutiny without their Cath Kidston guise.
Beg for raffle prizes. Only excellent quality. Need at least 20 or tickets won’t sell. Once list of prizes is complete (preferably by end of September) send a book of tickets with prize list to all pupils and teachers. Full books can be purchased for £10 - no part books.
More letters!
Decide on fund raising idea. It is the duty of the Fair organisers to initiate a ‘one off’ scheme to raise additional funds for CCL (‘Changing Children’s Lives’) our educational trust, which allows one bright child a year to join the school whose parents would otherwise be unable to meet the fees. Expected target for profit in the region of one term’s school fees.
Holy cow! How are we ever going to manage that with everything else we have going on? And how do I keep the educational trust a secret from Ned? - he’ll be applying before you can say, ‘Invoice paid’.
Book delivery of Christmas tree - must be non-drop, minimum of 4 metres and from sustainable source. Decorate. Also decorate school hall and entrance area.
They have the bloody cheek to be worried about sustainable sources when they expect us to send out all those letters? I’ve already counted one tree that’s met its maker for this fair already. At least they’re happy with regulation green.
Draw up rota for miscellaneous help. i.e: Greeters to take entrance fee on door (£5 per family), Friday set-up, Saturday clear up, raffle sellers, cashing up counters, fire marshals, first aiders, and lost child office.
“And Uncle Tom Cobbleigh an’ all,” Fenella tittered when we finally came to the end.
After our second bottle we became a little bit giggly about the ludicrousness of the whole thing and Ned and Josh returned from the pub to find us drunkenly planning a lap dancing night as our ‘original fund raiser’.
Think we were both still slightly in shock but at least we’d been through the files and knew what we were dealing with.
Abandoned the lap dancing idea (despite much coaxing from Ned & Josh - although I think they were secretly holding on to the image) and decided we’d sleep on it.
Tomorrow is another day in the life of Christmas Fair organisers.
Sunday 8th June
Yesterday passed in a hung-over blur from X’mas fair X’cesses on Friday night - just about managed to take Max to the park and then the cinema so I could have a sleep.
Today, went to Mum’s for lunch.
Sucking more Rennies before bed.
Monday 9th June AM
Bloody puppies driving me mad. They appear to be everywhere, but mainly under my feet. They’re very cute though and I’ll be sad when they have to go.
Settled down to try to book some quality stalls. They weren’t wrong when they said all the good ones got booked early. Eventually managed to book a fancy schmancy portrait photographer - book on the day for a sitting next year and you get 10% off (reducing it from extortionate to merely exorbitant) your ultra trendy black and white shots of your angelic looking kids. The school gets a further 10% on all bookings and she offered a sitting as a raffle prize. Add to list.
Also booked a jeweller selling gemstones, solid silver and white gold. Managed to haggle 20% out of her. She must know she’ll do well or she wouldn’t have agreed so readily.
Final booking was an eco-friendly happy-clapper who makes bags and belts from strips of designer carrier bags - apparently doing a bomb on her website. Really quite fetching if a little odd.
Fenella called to say she’d booked a couple of friends. One selling period clothing and fantastic fake furs and another who makes unique wooden toys and children’s furniture.
Felt reasonably pleased with our morning’s work. Four bookings already. Another six and we’ll have our full set of outside traders.
Had a quick coffee with Mrs Sengupta before collecting Max. She loved hearing all about the fair and said she was eager to take a stall herself. Her pickles and chutneys are to die for so when she came up with the idea of ‘Ba’s Kitchen’ (Ba meaning Grandmother), I agreed that homemade produce would be just the sort of thing that Manor House mummies would go for. Left her rattling pots, pans and spices, thoroughly fuelled by the idea.
Picked Max up from nursery, sneakily avoiding NM who was desperately trying to engage anyone who’d join in a conversation about Perry’s IQ. Why would anyone be interested in the IQ of another person’s child, for God’s sake? We all think ours are the brightest/prettiest/kindest, so let’s just accept it and get on with our lives.
Was a bit perplexed to get home to a message from the school;
“So sorry to trouble you Mrs Marchant. Mrs Montague here from Manor House. I understand that you will be class rep from next term alongside Fenella Hunter-Barnes. I’m afraid that we have lost both our current Seedling reps due to a relocation and a caesarean and we have a rather pressing issue to discuss before we break for summer. We were hoping all reps could attend an emergency committee meeting here at 10am tomorrow so that decisions can be made before the start of next term, as we have a legal obligation to make all parents aware of the facts. Terribly sorry to impose before you’ve even had a chance to settle at the school. I’d be awfully grateful if you could call the school office to let them know if you will be able to attend. Bye-bye now.”
What on earth could all that be about?
Fenella called - just as bewildered as me.
“Lordy, you don’t think they’re going to close the school down or anything do you, Lib?”
“No. Don’t be so bloody daft.” I answered.
Although I did panic slightly at the thought. They wouldn’t, would they?
PM
Ned laughed when I voiced my concerns.
“No, Lib, knowing our luck they’ll be considering upping the fees by some ridiculous amount and they’ll want to brainwash you to do the hard sell on the other parents. And if that’s the case, my love, we are well and truly stuffed.”
Tuesday 10th June AM
Luckily a typical June day - pissing down - so I could get away with my trendy black tailored suit, which seemed most fitting for the occasion.
Will write more after the event.
PM
Can’t believe there are such horrid people in the world!
Arrived at the meeting and was led to the staff room. All introduced ourselves and we were welcomed as ‘incoming Seedling reps’.
Started off pleasantly enough - tea, coffee, biscuits and nervous little titters interspersed with the over-confident guffawers.
Then we got down to business. It still makes my blood boil just thinking about it.
It appears that a group of mothers, one of whom was present, has decided they don’t want the school running an educational trust as “we really don’t want those kind of people here at Manor House.”
“We’re paying for the privilege of choosing which type our children mix with and don’t intend to subsidise those who simply can’t afford it.”
This was from the ring-leader, Nerissa, a pinch faced squirt of a thing who clearly felt she needed to compensate for her height by making her presence felt through her volume and emphatic tone.
She went on, “Offend or please, if the CCL trust continues we may see fit to remove our children from the school or at very least decline from any fund-raising events encouraging it.”
With this she flopped her stroppy little body into her seat and crossed her arms triumphantly.
Can’t get over the snobbery of the woman and, thankfully, it seemed as if others were feeling the same as a general shocked babble started up around the room.
Still mortified by what happened next and cringing as I write. A very pleasant, quietly spoken lady stood up. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and looked a little like a trendy vicar’s wife. She cleared her throat and said, “I’m sorry that you feel that way, Nerissa. As you know, my Monica has been a CCL child for 3 years now and I’ve never felt any resentment fr
om other mothers or children. In fact, our class has never been anything but welcoming but, as the nature of this issue has presented a conflict of interest, I feel it only right that I resign from my position as rep with immediate effect and leave you to make your decisions.”
The poor woman then picked up her bag and, with great dignity, nodded her goodbyes and left.
The room fell into silence and Fenella and I looked at one another aghast. Mrs Montague stood and addressed the committee …