Stoopid like a fox!!

When I was 12 years old (cue tumbleweed and Fistful of Dollars “wah wah waaah” music), my school introduced ‘The Day Book’. This was a bright green little diary in which was written all our homework and tasks to be completed, as well as any nasty teacher comments, which needed to be passed on to my parent’s.

Each page had a space where my parents were to sign and where my class teacher was to sign so the two could effectively “speak” to each other. If I misbehaved in class, my teacher wrote a scathing note for my parent’s to read. They would then read said note and sign it, indicating that they had read note and had meted out appropriate punishment.

“Everyone’s a winner, après moi, la deluge”, as Del’ Boy would say.

Now, although I wasn’t square enough to be in the boffin (or ‘bod’) groups, nor was I cool enough to be in with the 'in-crowd’ either.

Thankfully however, I erred toward the latter. At least, I made some of the cool crowd laugh and I say thankfully because the cool crowd invariably hob nobbed with those we shall refer to as “The Rough Bunch”.

So, by default, I was privy to some of the sneaky and downright clever goings on at school and it was learning about the "double day book deal" that helped me tremendously.

What you did was have a spare day book which you offered to your teacher when a telling off was imminent. You let him or her write their stinky note to your parents and sat meekly down, suppressing a smile.

When your parents ask to see your day book, you offer them the “clean” one, they congratulate you on a spiffing week and sign it.

All that is required then is a close translation of their signature into your “grubby” copy and you’re home and dry.

Naughty but nice, you might say.

Well, although what I want to tell you has nothing whatsoever with dodgy dealings and day books, Joseph and I had an exchange today which sparked that memory.

Having a blazer all those years ago made me feel very grown up and smart. I kept my day book in my inside pocket and this morning, I was helping Joseph on with his blazer when he shrugged uncomfortably, adjusted the collar, then looked up at me and frowned. He opened one side of his blazer, reached into his inside pocket and pulled out ……… a peeled tangerine!

I burst out laughing, both at the contrast of the bright orange against his black jacket and the randomness of the fact that he even had a peeled fruit in his pocket which had clearly been there since the morning before. Why did he forget to eat it? How did it remain there all day without getting squashed? How did it not explode when I collected him from school and gave him my usual bear hug? All completely unanswerable!

Brilliant.