dispatches from the school run

December 23

'TWAS two days before Christmas and the queue for Waitrose car park was all the way back to the main roundabout - even though it was only 7.55am.
And yeah, there was an unseemly bout of pushing and grumbling outside the store's front door where a tweedy, gentrified couple in their 70s were
heard to lose their tempers before they had even begun shopping.
'Geoffrey, I have told you there are no small trolleys round here, you will have to go back and get one from the other side,' scolded the furious
matriarch.
Geoffrey was sore afraid and did scuttle off to carry out his duties, cursing under his breath yet helpless.
And verily the assembled throng did look on in wonderment at such early loss of composure in a public place.
Yonder doors were flung open to much rushing and pushing and, soon enough, the fresh produce aisle was a seething mass of bodies all intent on claiming the premium organic sprouts.
Indeed, a rich but unhappy couple did utter: 'We are going to have to take our chances in the soft fruit area' before ploughing into the human melee with not a smile between them.
All around were sombre faces, loading up with high-end grocery products to provide a lavish spread verging on the obscene.
Shopping 'against the tide' was rightly frowned upon and there was more than one sighting of that cardinal sin - stealing goods from a rival's trolley.
As the morning wore on, it became clear there would be tears, if not a fist fight, as the supply of carbonated water ran dry.
A burly, red-faced hedge fund manager did abandon his dignity and square up to a frail pensioner over ownership of the last tray of mint thins.
He was in full battle mode and did not feel ashamed.
Here endeth the Christmas lesson.

December 20

And so the first term of the third year draws to a close.
A term in which Superkid has flourished under the tutelage of the inspirational Teech.
Boundless energy, enthusiasm and commitment allied with a natural abilty to communicate and educate.
In charge of shaping the next generation of our citizens and paid annually less than a third of what elite Premier League footballers earn in a week.
Have we got the balance slightly wrong somewhere?
Anyway, three cheers for Teech and all the thousands of others like her around the nation who we entrust with the well being and advancement of our children every day.
When it goes right, the effect can be quite amazing.
The most amusing 'nativity' story of the season has come in to the Undercoverdad offices.
It features a child wearing an oversize, multi-coloured giraffe outfit fashioned from papier mache who took centre stage at her school production to announce: 'Have we perhaps lost the true meaning of Christmas?'
It is very difficult to know where to go from there.

December 13

The show is over, the set has been dismantled, the ticket stubs brushed away.
Superkid and his class have taken part in their last ever Nativity, time's winged chariot hurtles onward through the gilded days of their youth.
Sorry, I'm getting a little over-emotional myself now.
Yesterday's performance simply screamed 'oscar nominations' as far as I'm concerned.
Joseph kept his arm dutifully around Mary at all times, the donkey behaved impeccably and the music system worked without a hitch. Nose-picking was kept to a minimum, even among members of staff.
The stage was a sea of smiling little faces, the audience were held in rapt attention throughout and everyone went home happy, perhaps after dabbing a small tear away.
Superkid's celebrity guest even arrived in the nick of time, despite a hair-raising dash around the M25.
Most important of all, Undercoverdad was confident he had performed his video recording duties to sublime levels of competence.
Arm steadiness was good and his usual fault - overuse of the zoom facility inducing nausea in the viewer - was completely eradicated.
Later, we all settled down to review the performance in comfort back at the ranch, with a mince pie and mug of hot chocolate.
Do you know, I hadn't realised the lady in front's wig was so high . . . it seems to be dominating the screen somewhat . . . err, I'm sure she sits down in a minute . . . you'll see the actual stage then . . . actually, I think I'll go and find something urgent to do in the shed for an hour or so.

December 10

'Twas the night before nativity and all around were beset with pre-match jitters.
The shepherds were off their game and allowing indiscipline to creep into their flock - to the extent that Phil Drabble would have been appalled by the lack of shape in and around the manger.
The wise men were not staying proactive when the hay hit the floor and the donkey was neglecting his livestock marking duties in the crucial central areas where these things are invariably won and lost.
Basically it was typical of the day before any big performance.
As long as everyone gets the nerves out of their system in time for tomorrow's opener, all will be fine.
If there was rather too much bickering among members of the celestial choir that, too, was only to be expected.
The pressure to hit the high notes is growing and there is a general feeling that the cast are simply marking time before kick off.
Less understandable are reports of hyperventilation and panic attacks among ancilliary members of school staff, but let's put that down to a ripple effect and say no more about it.
Superkid's nativity is scheduled to run for two afternoons only, although there is a suggestion that it may transfer to Broadway if a keystone sponsor can be found Stateside.
As for Joseph himself, he reports no problems or concerns other than an enviable desire to produce his best stuff in a matchday environment.
Celebrity guests are jetting in from all corners for the performance, although Superkid has not been told Uncle Ant is planning to be there yet - just in case the M25 does its worst and he is infuriatingly held up short.
So, all is set.
The tree is up in the main hall, the set is looking fine, daub on the greasepaint and let's go.
Hang on, what's that red flashing symbol in the top righthand corner of my video camera? I'm sure it will turn out to be nothing.
Nothing to worry about at all.

December 6

Reports filter out from the heat of rehearsal that the nativity is coming together swimmingly.
As with any high profile production, expectations grow and the attendant pressures bring problems of their own.
But the cast are reported to be holding their composure well as opening night (well, afternoon) draws ever closer.
Of course there are hiccups, even Sir Dicky Attenborough gets hiccups.
Apparently the donkey is still displaying unattractive truculence when asked to turn right towards the stable.
He prefers a position stage left and out of the spotlight, but Teech's tactic of bribing him with unlimited fresh carrots seems to be paying off.
In keeping with Hollywood tradition, there are also rumours of behind-the-scenes romance blossoming for those drawn together by fate of casting.
Although no photographs exist of the incident, Mary and Joseph are alleged to have shared a kiss while waiting in line at the end of the school day.
Joseph informed Undercoverdad on the way home but said that Mary would not be telling her father as she feared he would 'lock her in her room for a week without food or water'.
Undercoverdad said this sounded a bit harsh and Joseph agreed, but it all adds to the excitement.
The young couple are believed to be negotiating a six-figure sum with Hello! magazine to reveal the full story in an eight-page picture special and so are keeping understandably quiet on detail at the moment.
Joseph did let slip that he considers the relationship to be 'a little bit girlfriend and boyfriend but mainly just normal friends at the moment'.
Undercoverdad said he understood and advised Joseph to keep his eye on the ball until the production is over and then maybe let nature run its course.
Joseph thanked his father for his input and they settled down to watch Laurel and Hardy in Twice Two.

December 5

To avoid being mobbed by my legions of adoring fans from among the parental ranks, I have started parking away from the school grounds.
Rather like the Beatles being rushed in and out of venues under blankets and in car boots during their tumultuous breakthrough tour of the United States, I just find it easier to slip into a side door with a minimum of fuss.
Frankly the massed autograph signings and posing with babies was starting to hold up the start of the school day and simply wasn't fair on the kids.
We are there to facilitate their education, nothing else, and it was high time I started remembering that.
Also there is a quicker route to Superkid's class if we park on the road and simply nip through the back gate.
But mainly I park there to avoid the crushing crowds and endless posing with admirers wanting mobile phone photos of me cuddling them.
Yes, that's it.
I'm sure my agent would advise me against such a move but I have to put education first. Anything else would be plain selfish. And I have't got an agent.
So any parents fretting over my disappearance from the car park scene needn't worry, it is for the good of the school.
There has been one interesting development since this change of tactic, however.
My fellow undercover agent/possible double agent has also started parking on the roadside.
I know I have attempted to put these matters on a backburner of late due to uncertainty over the motives of the individual in question, but could it be that we have flushed him out?
His role is still unclear, I must play it safe.
Got to go, a posse of screaming mothers bear down on me brandishing autograph pads.