Slip-sliding along upon the banana skin-strewn ice rink that is motherhood, every so often there’s the odd moment of satisfaction: a metaphorical cushion for your bottom as it were. This week, I’ve been lucky to experience not one but several of these moments although, let’s be honest, my bottom doesn’t need much more padding.

I’ve been pleasantly surprised since their Dad went away how caring they’ve been. I’ve had many a cuddle and ‘are you okay, Mummy?’ from both of them, which is very much appreciated. And then the Mum of the lovely lad from Tipperary where #1 spent a very happy weekend told me that he was ‘a pleasure to have, and a credit to you - what lovely manners’. Well, dear reader, I beamed (and silently congratulated myself for having threatened him with death if he misbehaved). Me Mum always said to us ‘you can do what you like at home (within reason) but you’d better damn well behave when you’re out’. They’ve certainly done their fair share of sodding around at home, but thankfully her pearl of wisdom seemed to sink in.

Then today there was the annual summer concert. Well, what a morning. Firstly I saw #2 and his fellow junior choir members sing (beautifully), then I was lucky enough to see #1 and his friend Olly perform ‘When I come around’ by Green Day (#1 on electric guitar and his friend on bass), then later on #2 performed a really rocking song that he had written himself (must have been the one that got me out of bed at 7am on Sunday - plenty of reverb and the amp turned up nice and high). It was really good though, and he got whoops and cheers from the audience. Last but certainly not least was #1 again in the senior choir and again that fantastic solo in Pie Jesu. So many people came up to me afterwards and said ‘wow, your children are so talented’ and ‘you must be a very musical family’. Honestly, I could have cried. I have to say that the musical standard was incredibly high. Some of the children played really complicated piano pieces and one girl did a haunting version of ‘Summertime’ on her clarinet: perfect.

So finally to my last little bit of trumpet-blowing: #1 didn’t like the thought of two of the boarders having to stay in B&Bs for the long weekend and asked if we could invite them to stay. Too right we could and so we are a proud, and rather multicultural household this weekend: one French lad, one Spanish, the children, who are a Heinz 57 of English and Irish, and li’l old me. My schoolgirl French isn’t bad (I can even swear) but my Spanish is limited to: ‘Dos Cervesas Por Favor’. Ah well, I’m sure being able to say ’shit’ will come in useful with a household full of small boys, and probably the two beers as well. Happy days.

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