Dear Holly,
Now Christmas is over, my husband has lost his festive cheer and has gone back to his usual, miserable self. He might have got me nice earrings for Christmas, but the only place I’ll get to wear them is the kitchen sink. If I’m lucky he’ll refer to me by my own name later tonight as he climbs on top of me and starts pumping vigorously. All I want is someone to make me feel a bit special, is that too much to ask?
Isobel
Wisbech
Dear Isobel,
You could always join Mrs Walker’s Learning Support class. They’re all special. They don’t do proper lessons like the rest of us, just fun stuff like making pictures and singing daft songs and expressing their confusing feelings with play-doh. Most of the time they look like they’re having great fun, except when one of them goes berserk and they get put on lock down. That means they all have to sit with their hands on their heads, close their eyes and hum the tune to ‘if you’re happy and you know it’ until whichever one of them is kicking off finally calms down. Once, I was walking past their classroom and heard an eerie humming, and sure enough, Oliver French had got all over excited and painted Amelia Gough’s entire body with bright red poster paint and then hacked off her hair with a pair of left-handed scissors. He was using Sellotape to fashion it into a beard while the rest of the class hummed with their eyes shut. It was a moving scene. Don’t worry though, Mrs Walker subdued him with the safety gloves and it all calmed back down fairly quickly.
Hope that helps!
Holly
