A new national observance

Activity around educational institutions form a significant part of the daily juggling act. There is the not insignificant task of getting people there, with high currency placed on achieving this with pupils clothed and in their right minds. Then there's the issue of remembering to collect them again at day's end. We juggle all this because it is required of us by law. But legal precedent aside, we generally believe that school is a fruitful way for our offspring to spend their days.

The calendar of an institute of primary education is unlike no other. Days are planned and occasions are marked and it is the responsibility of parents and caregivers to facilitate the smooth participation of offspring in these ceremonies. Many, such as Book Week, are time honoured traditions. Book Week, being a celebration of the written word, means caregivers must stay up long into the night fashioning appropriate garments for the book parade. The garment is deemed appropriate only if it has little to do with fashion and a lot to do with the written word. This I had sorted. Stand and admire the balls in the air.

Then there are all the other occasions. We were within the school grounds recently before one of the junior recipe testers reminded me of the significance of the day. The planned ceremonies were dedicated to yoghurt masquerading as ice-cream. Like all such educative ceremonies, this required an appropriate course of action on the part of caregivers. In this instance the action was to have taken place last Friday.

At this point there was no escape. The junior recipe testers would only be enabled to participate in the yoghurt observance if I could overcome both my failure to act and my lack of recognition of my inaction for some days. I was now juggling double-time. The junior recipe testers were aghast and I could hardly blame them. A strong desire to participate in food related events is somewhat genetic.

Failures of such epic proportions always involve many. There are those who are wronged, those who do wrong, and those who can offer absolution. I was forced to admit my inadequacies and beg forgiveness. There was only one person in the school who could offer mercy and right my wrong. With a contrite heart I headed for the canteen.

If you have a previously unknown national observance looming on the horizon (and let me assure you, if you have a child at primary school you do have, you just may not know it yet), and if you would like some assistance with keeping those balls in the air, may I suggest this week's menu?

As always, please contact me with queries, for lists of ingredients or for recipes.

Order by Friday night for dinners delivered the following Tuesday.