austerity cuts

There are a number of things my children have done since they were tiny and I suppose like everything when its free (or at least very reasonable) you take it for granted, until it is no longer there. Then you value it, then you miss it like hell and resent whoever it is that has taken it away.

One of the things we do is go to a local library. We spend an hour there, I am complimented on my animated reading aloud skills (my drama training wasn’t wasted.) The librarians are helpful and cheerful, they know stuff about books too which is a plus. When the children were little, my child minder used to take them to storytelling on Thursday afternoons.

This all started to change 18 months ago, the librarians’ smiles started to disappear and then so did the librarians. They are being replaced by a card system, I’m not sure how that will help some of the senior citizens fathom the internet. The next to go, is the lady who produces the monthly quiz. March is the last one. I think she had decided to stop when she knew her time was up, after all she had done in it her own time, under her own volition. An elderly gentleman expressed disappointment and she gave in. The last quiz now lies on the desk.

Since taking the children, I have started to read library books again. I have read history books, biographies, romances, mythology and I discovered Phillippa Gregory just before the BBC did.

Last month we were asked to fill out a questionnaire about opening hours. One solution was to close it on a Saturday. A Saturday! Are you kidding? Do you not want children to read? There is a popular dance school taking place in the church directly in front of the library, on Saturdays the library is full of tots in tutus.

On a recent trip to the library on a rainy Saturday afternoon, I parked the car in one of the few spaces by the library (look, we had a lot of heavy books ok, we do usually walk) and talked to the children about the changes happening to the library and a few other services we use. I tried to explain to them that the council had to save 123 million pounds. They didn’t understand.

Every third Sunday of the month, there is a nature club. My niece and my middle child are the same age, they love to go bird watching and bug hunting and canal boating. Last Sunday was the last session, although there are activities in the Easter holidays. My girls came home in a militant mood. They wanted to protest, they wanted to raise money, even if it meant me baking lots and lots of cakes for a bake sale.

I once again tried to explain the reasons behind the cuts, but my middle child wailed in most righteous indignation, “But why are they cutting all the joy?”

Anyone?

running about

I started scribbling this whilst feigning interest in my children’s swimming lessons – not that I don’t want them to learn I just wish it would happen faster! I seem to have spent five years sweating in the sauna of changing rooms, wrestling with one, two or all three wringing, wet children. Don’t get me started on the etiquette – or lack of it – in the changing room. I have seen civilized women nearly come to blows over the showers. It’s not a pleasant experience and my own behaviour is unlikely to win me Mother of the Year award. Today someone in the next class vomited, which meant that two hoards of swimmers and fed up mothers jostled for position. After this I drop eldest off at dancing, the youngest has been to a party. (Daddy opted to take her)

Monday evenings are our free evening, we return shell-shocked from work, put children in bed by 8, so husband and I can sit and silently watch University Challenge. At the start of the year, I thought we had managed to wangle two free evenings. Two! Then middle child’s piano lessons started on a Tuesday, before tea! What a fun school pick up that is! Military precision is required, but never attained. 3.15 the heavens open,as they are frog marched the short journey from Junior to infant school, generally scolding middle one for forgetting reading book, school cardigan, diary, lunch box etc. The youngest one throws me her bag, coat and today’s art piece. We charge back, stopping every few yards for a head count and identity check. They argue about seating arrangements in the car, I am soaked. We squabble home, unless subdued by smarties.  Everything is dumped at the door, demands for drinks and snacks. Scooby Doo pacifies them for twenty minutes. I usher two of them into the kitchen to attempt a bit of homework, often resulting in another argument, in hushed tones now as the piano lesson is in full flow and we do not wish to scandalise the teacher.

Weds is a slightly later piano lesson, tea has to be ready when they come in!

Thursdays is a work day for me, I dash madly back to put tea on and prepare for Thursday evening mayhem; eldest is taken to orchestra practise by friend (5.15), middle child goes to karate (6p.m) , I go to collect eldest and friend (6.30) drop friend off (6.50) Collect karate kid(7.00), Eldest child decides she must practise violin, youngest child says its bed time, husband quite often goes out about now- don’t blame him.

Friday; I rush back from work for eldest child who sings in a choir every Sunday, it is practise night. We pop into Costa, she gets embarrassed by my loud laugh and edges to the door as soon as she sees the senior choir girls arrive. They drink hot chocolate, she drinks hot chocolate so she is cool by association. I drink tea. I am not so cool.