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It was the kids' last day at their current school today. And as I was in Andover I couldn't take them in and they were doing play dates after, so I won't be going there again. I was quite emotional thinking of them leaving this place, as it's been a really good school and I think they've had fun there. But it's also weird to think that I won't see most of those parents again. We're not moving far away so we will hopefully keep in touch with some of them, but it's slightly random about which parents your befriend and which ones you say hi to each morning and which ones you mutually basically ignore.
I will miss them. Even the ones that didn't acknowledge me and who I didn't acknowledge either. For whatever reason.
The kids seem to be taking the move well and are looking forward to the new school, but they will miss their friends. Ernie's class made him a card where they all drew pictures of themselves and wrote him little good luck notes. It made me a little teary to see it.
But maybe there's some residual trauma from my own childhood moves. When I was 8 we moved from Loughborough to Cheddar and I did find it tough to leave behind my friends at Cobden Junior school. Or at least I cried when I heard we were moving but then asked "Is it near the seaside?" and my mum more or less lied (it's an hour's bus journey away) and said yes and I stopped crying.
But I still miss Satish Patel and the other Asian boys whose names I don't remember who were my classmates and pals (I liked the kids from the Indian subcontinent because when it was their birthday they brought in sweets and cakes for everyone and I'd have been ready to leave Christianity behind for that, if only I could remember which religion it was that did that. But I remember telling my mum how impressed I was with that - and that's all it really takes to get a religion working).
My school had broken up when I moved, but the Cheddar schools were still in term time so I went to Cheddar primary for a week before the holidays in the hope of making a friend. I have a vague memory that someone showed me their genitals under a desk, but I can't even recall if it was a boy or a girl so that might not be true. It wasn't the teacher. Mum said she watched me crossing the playground, playing on my own and felt very sad for me. I was 28 years old at the time. I don't remember the sadness now though or even the genitals clearly and the next year I had at Cheddar Primary was largely happy I think, even with the corporal punishment that was allowed then. Again I feel like I was hit on the hand with a ruler or dap (plimsoll) at some point, but it might just be that I feared it happening.
Anyway, hopefully the kids won't be hit by adults or see any unrequested body parts (now I'm wondering if I showed my willy back - if so then the lonely playtimes are quite the statement) or have to play alone. But I'll miss their school and will have a whole new set of parents to judge as to whether they are worthy of a nod or a hello or if I will just walk past them.
