She was given a £10 book token, with which she was supposed to buy a book (derrrrrrr), that should then have been presented to her. However, as she wanted Jordan's biography we agreed, after some fairly animated discussion, that there is a time and a place for the tabloid and the bimbo-esque, but this just wasn't it. So she just got the token handed over again and she can sneak off incognito to buy it at her leisure.
We had a bit of another to-do before we went though, as a letter from the school had come for the boy and I had failed to forward it to him at uni. I feared he was going to be presented with something in his absence. But a quick phone call to the lad saw the letter opened and it turns out the Sixth Form leavers' prize-giving is in December. Just as well we opened it though, as he's getting three prizes: a special one for being a smart arse and getting straight A's, Public Speaking, and Philosophy & Theology.
I'm obviously proud as punch of the pair of them, but all this prize-giving brought to mind a parents' evening some 10 years ago at their Prep School. Both of them at the age of six had, in their turn, been in the same classroom with the same teacher. And a remarkable woman I now know her to have been.
It was a big old building and the main door from the classroom to the hallway used to stick.
"None of the children can open that door," she told me, "and all of them cry because of it. I don't have it fixed because it tells me a lot about them... The difference between yours is that your son used to cry because he couldn't open the door. Whereas, your daughter cries because the door won't open for her!"
This as you may understand was incredibly perceptive of her, but she went on to describe their characters in great depth and with what turns out to have been an uncanny line in prophesy. She finished by referring to them affectionately as the Actress and the Bishop.
Wow! Was she good or what?