L1 has her class trip today. They’re off to learn more about the Tudors, the history topic of the term. Since I have read – I ought to say devoured, inhaled, destroyed, the speed and the enthusiasm with which this happened – Wolf Hall and Bring Up The Bodies by the sublime Hilary Mantel – in the last few months, I felt erroneously well-placed to lecture her about Henry VIII, his wives, and the role and character of Thomas Cromwell (‘That can’t be right!’ I shout, ‘Don’t be fooled! He wasn’t a horrible man – no – Hilary Mantel writes him as a sensitive family man with political aspirations, sure, but only because he is so ridiculously clever that he didn’t even have to be blatantly ambitious to rise to Henry’s notice! So you play him’ – she had the role of Cromwell in their assembly – ‘like that, when he talks about being money-grabbing it must be post-modern irony. Or something. Never mind’).I don’t have quite the same (biased) knowledge about where L2’s class are going for their trip, though, because apparently they are going to Godworld. Godworld is an brilliant left-field extension of L2’s current campaign to entertain and slightly perturb his atheist father. Here is a sample of a daily, nay hourly, discussion describing L2’s religious convictions:
M: “Who made that sink, L2?”
L2: “God”
M: “No, the sink was made by The Bath Store”
L1 (sighing, with the weight of an extra three-and-a-half-years wisdom on her shoulders): “Yes Daddy, it was made by The Bath Store, but God gave them the courage to do it”.
Here, indeed, endeth the lesson.
landlsworkingmum 