for the kids’ first school years, she’s a latecomer to the school. The coffee mornings were supposed to be her ice-breaker, and there she was, day one, sucking goo off her fingers and dripping buttercream icing onto her clothes.
It wasn’t just the messy eating. It was the eating at all that was the error of judgment. The girls talk about food constantly, but no one eats anything. Even the coffees are mostly black, and while Lisa would like to tell them that skimmed milk is practically water, she has a suspicion that dairy is the enemy.
This went on with the mums in Canada, too, but Lisa worked a five-day week there. No mums’ coffee mornings for her then. Ah, the simple life.
Lisa works a three-day week now, so she’s in office clothes for the school drop-off Tuesday to Thursday. On Mondays, she’s there in her running gear — for actually going running — and Fridays are casual the world over, right?
No. Some of the girls are more dolled-up every week. Last Friday, Lisa could have sworn that some of them had fresh blow-drys.
After a fourth Thursday night of sweating over what to wear, Lisa decides to make her Friday-morning excuses to the girls.
She decides to sign up to a class at that scary Pilates place. It’s an extreme measure, but better than admitting she’s opting out. Because even if Lisa doesn’t want to be friends, she has seen enough of the casual coffee scene to know she shouldn’t make enemies.