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Can we go yet?

October 11, 2013

Little H walked onto the stage with the rest of his nursery class, dressed in his thick winter Coldstream Guards pyjamas.  He stood at the front and undeterred by the large audience, sang his song of precisely 12 words, took a bow and walked off.  It took 30 seconds.

There was no denying that it was very sweet.  However, for that morsel of kindergarten glory we had driven half an hour to the school; we had half an hour to drive back and an hour and a half of a “Cultural Awareness Concert” to sit through before we could go.  In addition, the concert was being held outside in over 30 degrees C.  The children were supposed to be in their national dress which raised a conundrum in itself.   What passes for British national dress?

Given that there’s a sad dearth of tweed suits in H’s wardrobe, we made do with his soldier pyjamas, paired with natty bright green crocs.  It’s a look that’s going to be catching on for the guardsmen outside Buckingham Palace very soon I’m sure.   They’re very good quality pyjamas which is super for keeping a young chap snuggy during a long British winter but rather less super for a very hot day in the Pakistani sunshine.



I hear One Direction have put in an order for their next concert…

[Available from the Buckingham Palace Gift Shop for £14.95]

And then came the conundrum – now we’d seen what we came for (assuming that we didn’t blink too many times during the performance) how quickly could we leave?   Obviously we should have stayed and supported all the children who had put in such hard work learning all the words to “We Are The Champions” and practising walking on and off the stage carrying a flag, but then there was the pull of a nice cup of tea and a biscuit somewhere in the vicinity of an air conditioned sofa.

So we sat tight.  We watched the choir of Japanese children sing a song. It was sweet, for the first 10 minutes, but just when I thought it was about to come to an end they started singing it again in the English translation.  Comic relief was provided by watching their teacher head bang his way through his conducting and spotting people in the audience who looked like family members. Then we ran out of comic relief.

The sun continued to beat down.  H started to look distinctly hot in his pyjamas.  I started to look for the nearest exit.  And then my friend caught my eye.  “We’re shipping out after the next one,” she murmured.   I leant towards A.  “S is shipping out after the next one. I think we should too,” I whispered.  With relief akin to a minky whale basking in the wake of the departing Japanese shipping fleet, we tiptoed past the other parents desperately trying not to catch their eye and ran for the hills.

Our surreptitious departure was marred slightly by our having to go back into the concert to find H’s teacher to ask her to unlock his classroom so we could retrieve our stuff (oops – busted!) but by that time we were past caring.  And we were unashamedly blaming H for having to leave early – it was clearly far too hot for a 3 year old in tog 20 pyjamas (not to mention his parents, their friends, their friends’ children etc)…..

  1. Sara permalink

    Love it! Would do it the same all over again!


  2. Very sorry to hear about the dearth of tweed… x


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