Poets beware

When the children were small we lived in Southampton, and Daughter and Elder Son attended primary school there. Being that much-maligned, involved sort of mother I volunteered to help produce the school magazine.

One of the features in the magazine was a page about books and one day I had the brilliant idea of asking two of the teachers for their favourite poems, bearing in mind that they were going in the mag and that it was an opportunity (I thought) to bring poetry to children.

This is the 'poem' the reception class teacher, who was also responsible for English teaching in the school, chose:

My mother said,
I never should
Play with the gypsies
In the wood.
If I did,
She would say,
Naughty girl to disobey.

Even now, nearly 20 years later, I am astounded at her choice - for all sorts of reasons.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Harvey has caught on to my wiles.

He has learned that if he stands close enough to the open door I will grab his front legs and put them outside before lifting his back end out to join them. He knows I'm not strong enough to carry him any distance so he stays just that little bit back.

He wants to go out really; I know he does.