I come from a long
line of people that do things.
Mum was our
village WI secretary for 9 years, helped organise the village carnival and
church events. Like his father and his
father before him, Dad was treasures of the village Reading Rooms (aka village
hall), helped organise the village carnival, campaigned and raised funds for a
swimming pool at my secondary school (which I never used), was a member of the
British Legion and sold poppies for half a century. Granma and Great-Grandma were ‘big in the
Mothers’ Union’. Grampa and Great Grampa
were founder members of the local angling association. There may be other stuff I know nothing
about.
All this may
explain why, even though both boys left five years ago, I am still involved in
Friends of Treegrass School. I am no
longer secretary but still keep getting drawn back in to organise events.
There are four
of us who do most of the heavy lifting.
Even though we
keep telling current parents and teachers that we’d be delighted to hand it all
over no one volunteers.
So we soldier
on.
Unsurprisingly
we sometimes get a little fed up and have to let off steam.
After our last
meeting I made these notes in my Journal (aka My Little Red Book)
It contains some
frankly foul and unladylike language
Yesterday to
Treegrass for Friends meeting planning the Summer Fair.
There are some
people within, and without, the School who do nothing but feel they can
complain or comment on what isn’t provided at the Fair. This really pisses us off.
My feeling is, if you feel something, or a
particular thing, is missing or needs doing, then get off your fat arse and do
it. Don’t judge the people who have
done, and are doing, quite enough thank you.
As Mrs Bursar
said
“I’m not a
nice-to-have person. I’m a
what-do-we-need person. We need
money.
This isn’t a Family Fun Day. This is a fundraising Fair. You’re not here to have fun, you’re here to
give us your money. Just come in, have
something to eat, buy something – then fir cough. And if you buy a raffle ticket have the
courtesy to hang around until it’s drawn, so I don’t have to ring you on Monday
morning when your bunch of flowers are deed.”
“Yes” says Mrs
Bun “you don’t even have to speak to us, or even look at us, just give us your
money and push off.”
“Like Fester” I
said “He brings Ferrefingers, he has a hot-dog, Fester buys some cakes from you
and a raffle ticket from me , then he buggers off.”
“That’s what we
need” says Mrs Bun “More people like your husband.”
It’s not often
you hear that.
The next thing
on the Agenda was the volunteers and stalls list.
“I’m putting Mrs
Rose on bric-a-brac” says Mrs Bursar “or bits-of-shit as I like to call it.”
Then there are the
people who just turn up on the day to volunteer who we don’t know from Adam. It’s nice to have a spare body but we don’t
know what to do with them.
As I said:
“Some people can’t
understand the concept of a tombola.
Even after you’ve explained it to them three times. Tell you what Mrs Bursar, if anyone does turn
up on the day stick them on bric-a-brac with Mrs Rose. They can’t do any harm there and you always
need another hand.”
Handwritten on
the Staff Room Volunteer Sheet was “Diane and her Surprise Bags.”
No one knows who
Diane is or what surprises lie in her bags.
And, as we
explained to the Deputy Head, we need to know for health and safety if nothing
else.
I was feeling
really low and shabby before the meeting, but they didn’t half cheer me up.
