Don’t worry, Kate, I’m feeling the school stress, too
I’ve often wondered if Kate is going through the same emotions as me
Often, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, for example, or survey my wardrobe full of fabulous frocks and coquettish kitten heels, I marvel at just how similar my life is to that of the Duchess of Cambridge. I know, I know – you’ve been thinking it for some time but haven’t wanted to say anything in case it came across as fawning.
I get that a lot. I seem to spend my whole life meeting people who don’t want to mention the similarities between the two of us: our silky smooth hair and svelte, sylphlike bodies; our elegant use of the Queen’s English; our dashing, handsome husbands. I have been lucky enough to meet the Duchess a couple of times – or my “twinnie”, as I call her – and I swear that look in her eye was the stunned gaze of someone who has just clocked their doppelganger, and not an impassioned plea for her private secretary to rescue her from the witterings of an insane woman.
And now… well, now I have found yet another parallel between us. Next week, her son and my daughter will both start school in Battersea, a small but charming part of south-west London that features a zoo, the country’s busiest railway station, and the largest concentration of young children in the whole of Europe (apparently, hence its “nappy valley” nickname). Granted, Prince George will be attending the £18,000-a-year Thomas’s, while my little darling is starting at a state school a few streets away, but I like to imagine that we might all bump into each other from time to time.
There is nothing more democratic than the school run, after all! Surely it will only be a matter of time before we are being invited around to Kensington Palace for a play date, and remortgaging so we can completely renovate our two-up, two-down in preparation for tea with the future King of England. In these times of austerity, it’s important that the royals are seen to be mixing with the hoi polloi.
And as I’ve not sat stitching name tags into school uniforms because, thankfully, now you can just buy fabric marker pens to do the job for you, I’ve wondered if Kate – sorry, my twinnie – is going through the same emotions as the rest of us mums whose firstborns are about to start reception.
For example:
To put on social media or not?
To autumn, season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, not to mention umpteen Facebook posts of children in outsized uniforms. As if the end of the summer wasn’t bad enough, every year we must contend with over-emotional parents bidding farewell to offspring they will see in six hours’ time. “Can’t believe this little one is starting school,” is the usual caption. To which you want to reply: “What do you mean you ‘Can’t believe it’? You have spent the last four years going to church to get your child into the outstanding state primary.”
Have I got enough stylish athleisure wear?
Forget your child’s uniform. The real question is: what are we going to wear? Leggings, hoodie, trainers, so we look as if we have already finished a 10k before the kids got up. Of course, the Duchess will have all of Lululemon at her disposal; her dilemma will be whether or not to slum it in Sweaty Betty to make the other mums feel less intimidated. Personally, I will be visiting TK Maxx this weekend to get some discounted Reebok and last season’s Adidas – or state-school chic, as we call it.
Why does my working day end three hours after school?
Those of us with kids starting school this year weren’t lucky enough to get the free 30 hours of nursery care, and so have spent the last three years bankrupting ourselves with day care, hanging on to the fact that we will be solvent again once our kids start school. Except now we have to pay someone to pick them up and take them to play dates – and if those are to be with Prince George, then they’re going to have to be Mary Bloody Poppins (not cheap).
Will I make any friends?
Sure, it’s totally about our little darlings. But… it’s OK to worry about the other children’s parents, right? What if nobody likes you? Kate: if you’re feeling these nerves, don’t worry. We are, too. If you want to chat, I’ll be weeping at the coffee shop on Battersea Square from about 9am on Wednesday. See you there.