Lest We ... erm ...
Woke up even more befuddled than usual this morning, blundering through the motions of feeding and dressing the little ones.
Made and packed my daughter's lunch, my mind still on other things, and set off on the walk to school. Perhaps it was seeing her struggle with her umbrella (it had stopped raining overnight, but she was determined to take it, just in case. She's so English), or seeing the bread delivery guy topple his stack of trays into the road ('Look, Dad! A toast puddle!'). Whatever I was looking at, it wasn't the obvious thing I should have noticed and the penny didn't drop until we got within sight of the school playing fields.
There were no children.
Come to that, we hadn't passed any on the way in either.
That's right, Amnesia Guy had forgotten that today is ANZAC Day, the public holiday in honour of soldiers from Australia and New Zealand who have fought in past wars. Which means no school.
Skulked back home, grateful that almost everyone in the neighbourhood was still in bed and couldn't see me and my little girl, her school uniform a dead giveaway that Dad's a bit thick.
A few hours later, I'm still squirming at the irony of how a festival dedicated to remembrance could completely slip my mind ...
Made and packed my daughter's lunch, my mind still on other things, and set off on the walk to school. Perhaps it was seeing her struggle with her umbrella (it had stopped raining overnight, but she was determined to take it, just in case. She's so English), or seeing the bread delivery guy topple his stack of trays into the road ('Look, Dad! A toast puddle!'). Whatever I was looking at, it wasn't the obvious thing I should have noticed and the penny didn't drop until we got within sight of the school playing fields.
There were no children.
Come to that, we hadn't passed any on the way in either.
That's right, Amnesia Guy had forgotten that today is ANZAC Day, the public holiday in honour of soldiers from Australia and New Zealand who have fought in past wars. Which means no school.
Skulked back home, grateful that almost everyone in the neighbourhood was still in bed and couldn't see me and my little girl, her school uniform a dead giveaway that Dad's a bit thick.
A few hours later, I'm still squirming at the irony of how a festival dedicated to remembrance could completely slip my mind ...
posted by Pete Kempshall at 12:25 PM
2 Comments:
Being a Kiwi in the UK, this must be why I never remember Remembrance Sunday in November, it's six months too late.
'Toast puddle' - love it. Give that child a dictaphone, you've got gold.
I have done that on saturdays .. as in gone to work before I realised .. not taken your eldest to school ...
And I officially have the worts memory ever. fact. Its 9.25 and I dont remember the journey in .. 70 mins ago ...
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