The Autumn mist is wisping around our garden and swirling right up to our windowpanes this morning. And I am thinking how nice it would be to stay at home, hidden away. That way I could just sit through Thursday in my pyjamas, instead of getting dressed and walking through it normally. Mist is strange because it fills even the most familiar objects with magical potential. In the vagueness of their outline, a leafless tree could be a frozen monster, an overflowing bin - a crashed rocket, the houses on our road could really have disappeared leaving only roofs and chimneys suspended in mid-air. Life might be much more interesting if every day was misty. At least everyone would have to walk more slowly and have time to think more deeply. Listening to politicians on the radio is a bit like listening to verbal mist- except that instead of magical potential, there is only the potential to mislead. Policies and ideas take on different shapes depending on who's talking about them, truth and lies get muddled up and words are left suspended in mid-air, floating above the emptiness of their meaning.
The mist is clearing outside, shame our politicians haven't noticed!
Walking back from work with my 15 year old daughter, Mia, yesterday, she pointed at a crowd of girls with their blue school uniform skirts rolled up as high as they could be, their hair blonde, long and unmovingly perfect. "They're the ex-YTS," said Mia.
"YTS?" I asked, thinking maybe some youth club members or a work experience team.
"Year Ten Sluts," explained my daughter. " Only they're in Year 11 now so they are the YES. Except that the new YTS are more popular than they are so they hate each other. THose ex-YTS's keep writing letters to the new ones saying things like " just because you've slept with more boys than me, doesn't make you a better YTS!"
They've obviously worked hard, those YTSs and YESs to get to where they've got to today. Makes you proud of our English education system!
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