A bit of a curate’s egg. The roadworks (replacement of gas mains) which have been creeping down the road for weeks reached our place today – ear splitting volume on what must have been one of the hottest days I have ever experienced in London (so keeping the windows closed was not an option). So I took refuge at the back of the garden and started reading JK Rowling’s A Casual Vacancy. I bought it when it first came out but could never quite bring myself to add a hardback book to the stuff I had to carry on the train. It was also extremely frustrating to arrive at Dashi’s new school for his first transition visit and discover that pretty much everything we were told when we toured the school a few weeks ago was incorrect. This school was not our choice – not even on our list – but, on the basis of what we were told, we decided not to take up our option to appeal against the decision. When we toured the school, we were shown around by a very impressive, dynamic woman called Jane, who introduced herself as ‘the assistant head’, which I foolishly took to be another term for ‘deputy head’. Unfortunately it turns out that ‘assistant head’ is a similar job title to ‘trainee manager’ in the sense that Supervalue used to use it as the job title for their newest and lowliest shop assistants. During the tour, Jane told us that the school has a very sophisticated transition process, honed over the years and including a short residential camp over the summer holidays before new pupils start in September. Today I discovered that there will in fact be no transition process at all – beyond the visit today – and the Head seemed totally confused when I asked about it. Jane also told us that the school’s new premises would be ready for the start of the new school year in September – now it’s Easter 2015 and slipping. They also have a very bizarre approach to permissions, requiring parents to opt out of things that one would expect to have to opt in to. Amidst a welter of form-signing, there was this conversation

Receptionist: ‘and if any photos or video are taken of your child then you agree that they will be legally owned by the Miss World Organisation.’
Me: ‘No, I don’t agree.’
Receptionist: ‘in that case, can you please sign this form?’
Me: ‘No, I don’t want to sign the form, I DON’T want photos of Dash used that way.’
Receptionist: ‘That’s what the form is for – to say you DON’T want the Miss World Organisation to own images of your son.’

I’m pretty sure that this approach would be frowned upon, if not actually illegal, under data protection regs.

Finally, given that at autism conferences, or in situations where there is only one source of provision, bright, successful people tend to be over-represented amongst the parents, it is a bit worrying to turn up and discover that all the other parents look like they are on the bones of their arse. Then the receptionist asks three times – ‘Are you sure you’re not eligible for free school meals?’ and you start to wonder what it is that all the other middle class mummies have worked out that you’ve somehow missed…

On the plus side, Dash seemed to quite like the school – though this was because they had iPads and let him eat chips and white bread for lunch, so not all that reassuring.

After I picked him up, we went to a cafe for him to have his favourite mango smoothie and then had a wander around the Turkish deli and the fruit and veg market. Later, after taking Katie to music, we had a swim and then I made a salad of tomatoes, red onions, rocket and watercress, dressed with the basil infused olive oil I got at the famous Mr Christians on my last trip to Notting Hill, and served it with Turkish bread and grilled haloumi and feta. Perfect food to eat outdoors on a summer evening. While we were eating, we were startled to see this little fellow approaching with no sign of fear. We never seen any sign of mice in the garden before (or in the house thankfully), so it’s hard to escape the idea that he was attracted by the smell of grilled cheese.

Day 21: A gloriously sunny day followed by a beautiful balmy evening. Lift Chi Up, completed and filed UK tax return (yippee!). Dinner at Brasserie Raymond Blanc (starter of chick pea salad with smoked auberigine was great but main courses a bit so-so), followed by a stunning performance of the anti-war play, ‘The Silver Tassie’ at the National Theatre. A slightly startling play at which to be in the front line – I mean front row – what with the ‘shelling’ and the bayonets at some points coming within a couple of feet of our faces. A brief walk on the south bank, appreciating the views of London at its most gorgeous, then home to water the feijoas, pungas, magnolias etc that we haven’t had a chance to plant yet. We really need dry weather on Sunday to get them planted – keeping everything crossed.

Started organising paperwork for the UK tax return, took Katie and X, (a school friend of Katie’s) for muffins at a cafe and then to Blackheath Beach (http://www.conservatoire.org.uk/…/The-OnBlackheath-Beach-Op…) for a sand sculpting workshop. On the way home, I stopped to collect the linocut prints which were too wet to bring home yesterday. I was gathering them up carefully and beginning to test whether they were completely dry when X’s repeated attempts to grab them with her straight-from-the-sand-pit mucky hands prompted me to decide that they would be safer going straight in a bag. Unfortunately they were still just tacky enough to all stick together (and some now have added sand) – very sad.

Dog-bathing. not as a martial art, but as an exercise in advanced cross-species rapport building. I will draw a veil over the circumstances which led to my starting the day with emergency dog-bathing and just be glad that Sherlock not only cooperated but seemed to actively enjoy the process. Normally we bathe Sherlock in plain water but this time I decided, partway through, that shampoo was definitely required. I told Sherlock to stay and went off to get the shampoo, half expecting to have to chase him around the garden on my return, but no, there he was, still sitting happily in the basin. While Sherlock dried off in the sun (fabulous sunny day today) I decided that, having started the day grubby, I might as well get a bunch of other grubby jobs done before I hit the shower, so I washed all his bedding, emptied and scrubbed out the compost bin and gathered up and disposed of the rather chewed results of Sherlock’s frequent raids on the recycling bin. Lift Chi Up, then a nice hot shower – there’s a special pleasure in a nice hot shower when one feels dirty enough to actually need it – and off to printmaking. I did some more work on my lino cut and got some nice results. We were all sad that it was the last day as none of us could imagine continuing at home without the push of a class to go to. We may be reconvening in September though, to take part in a reminiscence project. Home to attack the pile of filing (which has begun to annoy me) and a (sadly fruitless) attempt to communicate with HMRC.

Lift Chi Up, lovely long telephone call with Ann Eade, got some boring to do list stuff out of the way. The admin really does seem to go on and on at this time of the year – and I haven’t even started the tax returns yet.

Booked Kate and Dash into their chosen art classes for the summer – for the first time they will be doing two classes together so it will be interesting to see how that goes. I don’t think Dash has ever experienced Katie’s (very quiet, ultra-polite, butter-wouldn’t melt) public persona before – he might end up asking the classic question: “Who are you? And what have you done with my sister?”.

More rain, more Elliotts Row hassles (hopefully the last) and a minor but annoying plumbing situation. On the plus side Dash and Katie are great friends again (after a sustained period of squabbling). They appeared in the morning holding a “wishlist” for the day which included, at number 3, “Hug Mum”! I was excited to see “Tidy Up” at number 4 but when I mentioned it Katie said “Oh yeah, we decided not to do that one.”

A tiring day. Usual Saturday logistics complicated by thunderstorm, torrential rain, the need to make an urgent trip to BHS to buy mattress covers for the new tenants, and a birthday party for Katie necessitating the purchase of a suitable gift and card, and two additional half-hour walks in the teeming bloody rain – feel like I’ve had wet feet all day. Meanwhile back at Elliotts Row to assemble the IKEA beds, Nick discovered that one of the boxes had all the fixings missing so had to go back to IKEA this evening to pick up more. I will be glad when the tenants are installed and we can get back to normal – I only hope that they are not the whinging kind. We haven’t let the place furnished before and it really does seem to be a significant amount of extra hassle.

Lift Chi Up, long lunch with lovely friends Conrad Ryan and Phyll Buchanan, sorted out some stuff at Elliotts Row ready for new tenants to move in on Tuesday.

Dropped keys off at estate agent, which happens to be right by Borough Market, so had to pop in to buy treats for Nick and Katie (they are both fudge fiends) and got some Turkish delight for me (expensive but the real deal)

Lift Chi Up, GP appointment, Inner Smile, sorting out details for the new tenancy at Elliotts Row.

Sports Day – Katie and her friend Agnes were the only two who didn’t drop their eggs in the egg and spoon race! Passionfruit sorbet (me) and white chocolate ice cream (Katie) at Black Vanilla on the way home. A minor crisis after dinner when Katie accidentally hurled Jake (the baby doll she has been carrying around tenderly ‘breastfeeding’ for the last 10 days) off the trampoline and into the wild part of the garden under the apple trees. She sensibly put wellies on to protect her ankles from lurking blackberry and stinging nettles and was forging into the undergrowth to rescue the unfortunate doll, when Sherlock shot past her like a small furry brown rocket and emerged moments later with the doll held gently in his little jaws. Now at that point the forces of good and evil appeared to be at war within that little brown body – he paused as if about to deliver the doll to the tearful child … then thought better of it and raced off down the garden tossing Jake as if he were prey that needed to be shaken into submission. Wails of outrage from Katie only seemed to spur him on and no amount of calling, or distraction with balls etc could tempt him to relinquish his prize. Finally I told Katie to go indoors and ostentatiously shook Sherlock’s dinner into his bowl. That did the trick and Katie nipped out of the house and grabbed the abandoned doll before Sherlock could change his mind. She then wanted to bath Jake, but since he has electrical bits I wasn’t convinced that was a good idea, so he had to make do with a sponge down with dampened kitchen towel. I don’t think he’ll ever be the same again but, on the plus side, that probably just makes him more realistic – in my experience real babies are generally a bit mucky!

Lift Chi Up, followed by more urgent admin.

Went downstairs at lunchtime to discover Sherlock hadn’t eaten his breakfast and was definitely not his usual lively self. Urgent trip to the vet revealed that he has panosteitis. Not as bad as it sounds – a canine version of growing pains. £89 later, Sherlock, after a shot of onsior (a doggy NSAID) bounded homewards at full speed and scarfed down his leftover breakfast in short order. Got a few more bits and pieces done, then Katie and I walked to the village to return the 15-shaped cake tins and had coffee/milk at our favourite cafe. A couple of hours gardening then helped Nick put the new trampoline together. It was hardly assembled before Kate and Dash were on it, bouncing enthusiastically while Nick attached the safety enclosure. It’s hard to believe that less than two years ago we were still apartment-bound, gazing out on the neighbour’s roof terrace with covetous eyes – and here we are, living in this beautiful place, with so much SPACE. Feeling very lucky.

Scored £15 tickets to Great Britain at the National, starring Billie Piper. I was surprised to get an email today, offering the opportunity to buy before the general public, when the play opens on Monday – normally these offers are months in advance. But it turns out that it has been developed and rehearsed in secret as it couldn’t be publicised until the phone-hacking case was concluded. But Billie Piper definitely isn’t playing Rebekah Brooks, oh no she isn’t …