Highgate Mums

by Dan Hall

  ‘Who cares about sacrificing freedoms if it makes children safer? Who could possibly argue against it?’

  ‘Surely the caretaker doesn’t have to be on-site when the girls are there.’

  ‘The safety of children must be paramount over all other things and freedoms.’

  Kept free from the sharp edges of life, we are left with a beautifully mannered brood, ready to step into the sun and become the next generation of all things pain aux raisins:

  Just heard a child address its mother as ‘Mamma’ with the emphasis on the 2nd syllable. In 2014. In SE London. (@AnnaA77)

  (on bus) ‘Mummy, can you tell those people to move off my favourite seat?’

  Mum: ‘You can’t have a biscuit now, not until we get home.’ Kid: ‘I am very disappointed in you.’ (@NotRollergirl)

  Three-year-old on the Tube, ‘Mummy I want a massage.’ (@victoriajayco)

  ‘He doesn’t like sharing buses with other passengers.’

  In true HM style, today we are off to a museum then John Lewis for lunch as chosen by my five-year-old. (@MrsHodge1978)

  Small they may be, but these kids have a keen eye on modern society. Often the nail is hit with surprising accuracy:

  ‘Alan Sugar’s suit looks like it’s from a shop. Bet he’s smiling because he’s a Lord.’ (child in Waterstones, Hampstead)

  My own son — nine — visiting Blackheath, ‘Mummy, it’s just like Hampstead, there’s a Farrow & Ball.’ (@nat_balance)

  But please do remember, that as confident as they may seem, they are so very, very, very, VERY vulnerable. For heaven’s sake, WON’T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE CHILDREN?

  Child (circa ten-year-old) in Kensington, crying as if the world were ending: ‘NO, mummy! I wanted TRIANGLE diamonds!’ (@_scarscarscar_)

  ‘I think it intimidates the children if teachers live in the area where they work.’

  A mum in my pub told us we should have toys for the children... It’s a pub. (@moolaboo)

  ‘I’m just not comfortable with a man being alone in a classroom containing my daughter. Not comfortable AT ALL.’

  (to cafe owner) ‘Can you turn the heating up? My daughter said she’s feeling cold.’

  And my favourite:

  ‘Graduates who have degrees are forced to work in pubs these days.’

  It is not unnoticed by me that arguably this chapter has absolutely no right to be here. As a single man without kids I don’t have a good idea of the challenges faced by HM. In the 1990s my pal Megan introduced me to Magic Sea Horses. This powder was poured into a small plastic tub and – WOW! – suddenly little living creatures appeared out of suspended animation. These little things were in my care. These were living things!

  By the weekend they were all dead.

  But in order to save people like me from becoming nasty, grouchy old bastards, I pray to HM to please stop offering food choices to your kids. It makes them infinitely dissatisfied. Trust me, they don’t really care whether it’s a croissant or a peach-stuffed pastry. Because they’ll take a few bites, make crumbs into the shape of Norway and drop the rest into my computer bag.

  NEWS & CONFLICT

  In A&E with a knife wound. Reception: Was it a fight? Me: Good lord, no — I was slicing an avocado. (@RichHawkins)

  News is, of course, where it’s at. In the tenseness of conflict and warfare the naked truths of humanity are revealed. And in the streets and cafes of N6 (and increasingly N19) conflict is fascinating as it often challenges the kindness of manners. The HM may be many things, but she is not malicious. So what on earth is the mild, polite, well-bred HM to do?

  ‘I appreciate where they’ve come from but it’s really very difficult not to lose my rag with those tradesmen.’

  ‘Stop it now! You don’t question Mummy. You’re not allowed caffeine. You don’t question Mummy for the same reason Daddy doesn’t.’

  ‘I know it’s her culture but blimey blindside I want to punch her in the face sometimes.’

  ‘Hazel, shouting is NOT an option!’

  ‘I love my girls, but sometimes I just want to send them to Asia to learn some manners.’

  ‘Anyone who keeps doing that to their Crocs will NOT be having dim sum at lunchtime. (pause) Felix…’ (@MattBaylis2)

  ‘Why is he on the naughty step?’ ‘Because he kept hitting Mummy’s dressing gown with his croissant.’ (@RiaSnowdon)

  But the finely tuned rules of etiquette must surely be discounted when actual criminal behaviour ensues:

  ‘Once got threatened with removal from Pergamon in Berlin because Scarlett was doing cartwheels (after I suggested it).’

  (child about seven years old, being punished) ‘That’s NOT FAIR! You didn’t know about it when I did it. It doesn’t count.’

  ‘With triplets the deception can be overwhelming.’

  With Holloway Road and its counterfeit cigarette-selling skulkers, we are relieved that the criminal influence on the tots is at a minimum. But being surrounded by the viciously dangerous neighbourhoods of East Finchley, Holloway and (if one falls asleep on the 210 bus) Finsbury Park, it’s a relief to know the kids can fight back:

  14-year-old daughter to me just now, ‘You’re being really passive aggressive. That’s where I got it from.’ (@MichelleLGa)

  Five-year-old on bus to friend, ‘You’re in my personal space.’(@carolinehonour)

  Six-year-old on Highgate High Street, lagging behind HM, screaming, ‘You are LETTING ME DOWN!’

  Toddler in Caffe Nero to his HM, ‘I bet your friends HATE YOU.’ Couldn’t be more than five.

  ‘My child is sulking because she wanted melted goats cheese not raw.’ (@squashykat)

  Two school boys passing by: ‘...he said to me, “You can’t do anything cos my mum’s a lawyer!” So I said, “Tough! Mine is too.”’ (@CarolinaL0w)

  And they’ll need all those skills, for there is a tough world beyond the shuddery grubbiness of Tufnell Park:

  ‘Dad, are we allowed to go to South Africa now?’

  Kid about five, ‘If poor people speak English then they won’t be poor and they could be happy.’

  ‘Why is Paris in France? It could be anywhere.’ (approx. ten-year-old)

  ‘Why aren’t other places like our home?’ (future UKIP tot I’m sure)

  ‘He’s too young. The closest that child will get to Africa is Sicily.’

  That last HM was of course living in a crazy world if she felt she was protecting her kids from the fury of injustice and man’s inhumanity to man:

  ‘If I’d wanted a scalp I would have bloody got one. But I took her resignation as an acceptable apology.’

  Just heard a very chic woman admonish her scooting toddler with, ‘I just don’t understand your priorities right now.’ (@missellabell)

  (to husband) ‘Don’t talk. Don’t crowd me. I’ve no time and a vital need to fix this issue at the school.’

  ‘Archway’s so bloody full of posh mums now that there’s no room in any of the cafes to put the pram.’

  ‘The social etiquette for first playdates has obviously changed. She turned up without anything. Not even a shop-bought cake.’ (@KjDouglas)

  Man on phone outside my son’s nursery: ‘A shepherd. She’s a fucking SHEPHERD! You won’t believe who got Mary.’ (@mrnickharvey)

  ‘We’ve had *so* many trips this summer. I’m really stressed out from all the packing.’ (@LouiseRawAuthor)

  VERY occasionally, the real world and its trauma crashes and splashes up Highgate West Hill:

  ‘Like everyone, I am appalled by the Islamist attack on Charlie Hebdo. But I am also struck by its similarity to the plot of my last novel.’

  Ah, Corbridge. I know someone there whose house was flooded and they were worried about their grand piano. (@Evie_tweeting)

  Nine-year-old: Daddy said there weren’t food banks when Labour were in charge. Five-year-old: Is Ed Miliband in charge of Waitrose? (@wotclaire)

  Heard on Eurostar, ‘Mummy, what does a migrant look like
?’

  Overheard on the tube at Hampstead by a primary school child, ‘I’ve had enough of that Boris Johnson.’ (@NatSasic)

  Two posh Daily Mail readers fighting with staff at the EasyJet gate. ‘But when we went to Cologne last week our case fitted!’

  FIRE BRIGADE WARNING AFTER JOSS STICKS FIRE AT KENTISH TOWN FLAT. (@NewJournal)

  ‘Does mental illness exist in children under five? Or is it bad parents? Or are we not allowed to ask that anymore?’

  And that concern – albeit bloody insane in places – is very genuine. So this final selection of misguided liberalism was a tough call, and very nearly didn’t make it into the book. In defence of my wild HM, do remember that all of the below come from a genuinely kind and well-meaning place:

  ‘I think a black boy going to Oxford is making a very good point to his folks at home and in his neighbourhood.’

  ‘The gym floor is a vanity project. But the community gift of a mural in Wood Green or something would teach them about diversity!’

  ‘Has anyone thought more about my idea to get the nursery kids involved in Calais?’ (discussing the Jungle)

  ‘I love, just LOVE Black History Month.’

  ‘Have you thought about how to expand the diversity of Book Group?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s racist to say that Asians instinctively work hard.’

  ‘Is Empire-Shaming a thing?’

  ‘Eastern European cleaners ARE better. I think they enjoy it more.’

  Oh, how I laugh at these daft HM fearing anything beyond the immediate environs of N6. You can feel their stricken fear as someone suggests a trip down Archway’s Junction Road.

  Er…

  But if I’m honest, I do have to remind myself in the twenty-five years I’ve lived here I have been mugged once. Not in N6, but that very same Junction Road of Fear. So maybe they’re onto something after all. Or maybe we should all be a bit better at taking the rough with the smooth and be happy that the house red is rather soothing.

  SHOPS & STYLE

  ‘I shop at Sainsbury’s. They give money to the Arts. Never at Lidl. They give money to the Germans.’

  I’m compiling this chapter in shoes from TK Maxx, trousers from TK Maxx, smalls from Primark. The shirt, I confess, is from Zara, whose Oxford Street church of fabrics intimidated me so. But my colleague Paul helpfully suggested, ‘Its cuts work for us larger ladies’.

  So the world of fashion, style and retail is bloody alien. Blogger Shannon Ables stated in her podcast, ‘Fashion is what you buy. Style is how you wear it.’ For me, fashion is what other people buy, and style is pouring Superdrug hand soap into an anonymous container.

  So please bear this in mind for this chapter. Ultimately I’m laughing at these HM because I’m jealous as hell:

  (HM to teenagers) ‘It’s nothing if it’s not matching. END OF. It’s like talking to children with you lot.’

  ‘She’s breaking a kaleidoscope of social norms with the curves on her staircase.’

  ‘The Village just isn’t a net curtain place. Towards Shepherd’s Hill maybe, but not here! It’s far too Chinoiserie.’

  ‘Have you seen that exhibition at the Tate? I’m thinking the school reception area should be like that. It gives the less skilled a role.’

  Local shop: Free sustainable bamboo knitting needles with skein of organic plant-dyed wool (@Synesthesia) – in Archway too!

  (discussing the Amish) ‘I love the barn-raising and the simple little life. Not so sure re arranged marriages. How arranged are they?’

  ‘Oh good, now I know what to do with those porcelain glove moulds that are just lying everywhere in my home.’

  Remember to work the system out on the high street. Charm and poise, and don’t be seen going for the ‘3 for 2’ offers:

  Five-year-old girl playing at shops: ‘I’ll pop in later with my husband’s charge card.’ (@larkrise2candle)

  (in coffee shop) ‘Could you open your heart enough to allow us to treat the Ethiopian blend a day before release?’

  ‘Everything you need is here. Even Ethnic things.’

  (to disinterested shop assistant) ‘We need this for a party. Have you an idea of its second-hand resale value?’

  (to barista in Bear + Wolf) ‘When might you be refreshing the toy supplies?’

  And the delight of consuming style is blissfully and swiftly appreciated by the tots:

  (Near Holloway poundshop) Kid: ‘How can nice things be £1?’ HM: ‘They’re not.’

  Seven-year-old girl: ‘Is Iceland owned by Iceland the country?’ HM: ‘No. It’s just a shop.’ Girl: ‘Oh right! Like Waitrose.’ (@Gilbstar)

  ‘Those pictures are very loud aren’t they?’ (child about four years old walking past Poundworld window posters)

  Kids about six or seven in Le Pain Quotidien playing at shops. ‘Have you got the receipt to return this?’

  It is never good to encourage mean behaviour, but these bitchy bites really made me choke into my Pellegrino:

  ‘That cut looks fantastic. Which on your skin tone is a surprise.’

  ‘Even though you’re on a luxury boat, you’re slumming it. The dishwasher is half size and 3G in Portuguese waters is appalling.’

  ‘You can tell his candles are cheap. They’re half melted by dessert.’

  ‘Oh, I like your hair. You’ve stopped dyeing it [to cover the grey]. Now it matches your skin tone.’

  With style being such a very personal thing, it’s ripe for attack and also in vital need of defence. A well-chosen line can decimate to rubble even the strongest HM psyche. So get those defences up:

  ‘Of course Hampstead’s new money, isn’t it? It’s obvious she’d say something like that.’

  ‘Why attack me? How the child is dressed instructs the teacher how to teach them.’

  ‘A shielded pram is essential, don’t you think? You have to protect Baby from the elements, don’t you? If it’s not flu, it’s melanoma.’

  ‘If I keep my sloped roof I’ll lose the flexibility, but then again shan’t feel so invaded by my neighbour’s bush.’

  ‘It’s not difficult to say, “I’m X, living in Y and I need planning permission for a Deco fence.” It’s really not difficult!’

  ‘The problem with the Highgate Society is they resent not living in a house like mine.’

  ‘We are answerable to nothing and nobody except the happiness of the children.’

  (discussing the economic slowdown) ‘How infuriating! If it’s not the plumber it’s the texture therapist or bloody £1 an onion at Tesco.’

  There is a threat too from within, a fear that one’s own failures could let the side down. In these situations it is important to talk about your problems, but always make sure it’s done with an air of ‘I know this isn’t right, but...’

  ‘Why do we suddenly need Japanese-looking shower heads? We’ve only just installed that bloody eco one.’

  ‘They don’t wrap properly at Amazon. At least face-on at Waterstone’s you can get them to do it again.’

  ‘Fabric, and fabric appreciation is a skill that we tragically lose as adults.’

  ‘I’ve been tearing my hair out deciding on a preference colour for the party bags.’

  ‘She’s outgrown her John Lewis white baby grows. Thanks to the recession I’ll be cutting off the ends and putting her in white socks.’

  And gosh, when the faces of the innocent, the future of tomorrow… take a big dump right there on the Java root dining table and humiliate the family name FOREVER:

  A mother and daughter shopping in John Lewis, ‘no darling, not Molton Brown. It’s a bit too high street…’

  Lady at the table next to us mocked her son for not knowing the difference between a timber wolf (grey) and Arctic wolf (white). (@Baggsy)

  ‘Westfield is rubbish! Rubbish!! All that space and there isn’t even a John Lewis.’

  ‘I said “Don’t bring that shit if you’re coming from Walthamstow.” I used that word. I used “shit”
, I was that cross.’

  ‘Whatever you say, however you present it, it’s a satsuma in all but name.’

  Sainsbury’s clean out of plain flour and ground ginger. (@W1mum)

  ‘He insists on wearing glasses! I told him he’d have more friends if he wore contacts.’

  ‘SOMEBODY has to be responsible. (sighs) They don’t realise the nursery window displays are a front window on OUR CHILDREN!’

  ‘Shall we lunch? Primrose Hill? Oh, but the deli there sells canned goods now.’

  Being pretty ignorant on style and the world of retail I’ve always struggled to understand how the HM psyche works in this area. The HM wants to create a simple air of style that is breezy, but in tandem is sure inform everyone how much effort has gone into it. This ranges from the shop that they saw in Wallpaper magazine (‘that nobody knows about yet’) to a brand of children’s shoes that drives the blood-flow to the brain and promises higher grades as a result.

  I write this surrounded by screaming children that are covered in fresh cream. Their HMs chat in perfect unawareness of their kids dashing around the restaurant. And I’m most irritated not by the noise or by the parent’s inability to shut down the din by even just the smallest amount, but rather that everyone here – kids included – is dressed better than me.

  FINANCE & POVERTY

  Overheard in drinks marquee at Durham graduation: ‘Gosh, this is more expensive than Glyndebourne!’ (@JayneCroghan)

  A few years ago, when my salary was a tad more generous than today, I remember imagining a cruel world where I couldn’t upgrade my Mac about every eighteen months. ‘Why?’ I thought to myself, ‘wouldn’t someone prioritise their spending so as to regularly enjoy that lovely new-Mac smell and feel?’

  I don’t think any HM overhear from this chapter is quite as appalling as that. And today I’m proud to be writing this book on a battered MacBook Air that I’ve had for yonks. It has an ALT key that sticks, making it a pain to write a hashtag.