On the 1st February Diane and I did a workshop at the College of Music. Debs, I like my job, teaching inner-city children and some with behaviour or learning difficulties, but once in a while, a large group of music college students - lovely. Thank you, Christine, for asking us, and for asking us back, and again.
After dinner I passed out gently on the sofa, listening to the Archers. Rick had gone out in the car. Walt phones up at 7.40. Was I driving to Daisy's show?
Daisy's show! Driving!
I drove to Walt and Tara's while they walked to mine. I drove back to my house. We found the last parking space in the Calls to fit a van. We got to the Marvellous Tea Rooms for five past; they waited; they were brilliant.
Lizzie and Cherie were there. Here's a picture of the three friends two decades after they left Lawnswood School. Not being dyslexic, Cherie and Lizzie went straight from school to uni [not that life was ever easy, I know that.]; Daisy had to wait sixteen years before she could knock at the gates and be let in. Her group tutor told my daughter that she was a waste of space and spoiling her friends' chances of a further education.
When Daisy left Royal Park Middle School to go to Lawnswood I told the high school that she had been diagnosed dyslexic, aged six, at Brudenell Primary School and that Royal Park had put her on some computer programmes for it.
I would go to the Parents' Evenings in despair. "Daisy must do something about her spelling". One time, as I went in, the deputy head looked at my pink hair and told me it wouldn't be allowed if I worked there. Luckily, although I had done my teaching practice at Lawnswood, and had absolutely loved it, I was now teaching English and Music at Foxwood School. And when I briefly stopped dyeing my hair pink, my headteacher, Bob Spooner complained that he had a reputation as having a punk teacher on the staff, and that I was letting him down. I couldn't have been looked after better, and Daisy, worse.