It’s not every day that the Mayor and his Deputy come to call. However, today there was a knock at the door and there they were, introducing themselves.
Of course, we hadn’t started our school day. The washing was still out in the middle of our living room. The girls had spread out their teddies and prams and I was trying to arrange a heating repair. Fortunately the sofabed was already packed away (it’s a one bedroom flat, we use the space as best we can) and we were all dressed. But honestly, it wasn’t the sort of place that you would want strangers to walk into, least of all strangers who were there to assess you. Oh yes. They were here to check up on us…
Throw on the big smile (easy enough, they were smiling), apologise and explain that you are in the middle of getting ready to move (no lie, it’s M-day, minus 7), and say « Please come in ».
I got the feeling that they weren’t really sure what they were meant to do – guess there aren’t many of us home-edders in the village then! They mentioned the letter they’d received from the Academie which told them to come and check (but not the letter that I had already written to them, which was meant to initiate their inspection).
Apparently we passed the contrôle. The Mayor saw our low shelf heaving with files and folders and the box of books beside it, with a Bescherelle right at the front and immediately said that was what he came to see. Just checking that we weren’t abandoning our children to play all day.
They also asked the question « Why didn’t we send the children to school? ». I think the answer I ended up giving was pretty much that we were Scottish! I’m not sure because there were so many interruptions with children playing, kitten rampaging and husband returning, that I don’t remember actually finishing my response.
Our first minor inspectors didn’t seem to mind. In fact they apologised for the apartment block that we live in and explained what we should do when we move to keep on the right side of the law.
And then it was Bonne Continuation. Amen to that.