How are parents, family and friends? coping with ferrying their little ones to schools?
I shall be serialising a description of how that particular important task absorbed me once upon a time.
It begins as follows:
Part One
I have joined the ranks of a well-known brigade
As yet I retain the status of a novice, but I am assuredly progressing through the ranks of initiation and hope to have soon earned my wings in fully-fledged distinction, as a member of’ the school round’
You see, It is licensed to certain predictability that my days are destined to merge into one amalgamated cluster ‘a blur’ which represents the entwinement of the days light and dark hours-a passage of time that has few relevant distinguishing experiences bar that concluding’ blip’ which is the gravitation towards my last ‘pickup’ on a Friday afternoon; a release from my constant state of stomach-clenching distress by which my week is marked.
My life is assuming an automated directive.
I invite with a frankness that evolves with familiarity, a shuddering onset of cold that freezes my insides as fearful of guarding myself against the stealing of a glance at those luminous figures which beam at me whilst strapped in a fixed position of self-indulgent torture in the driving seat of my car-those brightly cloaked, yet concise figures shine significantly as the heralds of doom. They are an unavoidable precursor of a thrusting, booming fear attack expulsion, which instantly coils from within, but transcends any normal time parameters so that icebergs of panic quickly erupt from within my skin. The warm atmosphere of the car is pervaded by a condensing coolness- the air becomes heavy and my unlucky passengers are insulted into bouts of thumb sucking and other quiet comforters as “Mama is late again”
Searching for an Oasis 