Category Archives: Expat

Fascinating glimpse of a Dubai school in the 1970s

Posted on by

Jess under construction
Son2’s school is turning 40, which in Dubai time is quite ancient! Anyone who lives here will know this age is impressive and deserves to be marked, especially as four decades ago the school was just a small huddle of buildings in the middle of the desert, with staff and pupils trekking across the sand to the nearest shop during break-time.

Intrigued by all things ‘old’ in the UAE, I helped out at the most wonderful exhibition commemorating JESS’s big birthday this morning, and learnt so much I’ve been inspired to put together a blog post on what school life was like in the desert all those years ago.

Doesn't it look a little bit like they're playing on the moon?

Doesn’t it look a little bit like they’re playing on the moon?

The facility was planned when Dubai English Speaking School, the first British curriculum school in the emirate, could no longer cope with the rapid increase in the expatriate population.

JESS quote 2The school’s story began in a small flat in Deira, before its relocation to a villa in Jumeirah, which was generously gifted by his Royal Highness Sheikh Rashid bin Saeed al-Maktoum, Ruler of Dubai. The school moved to its present Jumeirah site in 1977, where it consisted of one villa, 75 pupils, six staff and three portacabins. The size of the classes depended on the size of the bedrooms.

Desert surrounded the school for miles; there were no villas in sight, and the buildings which now line Sheikh Zayed Road had not yet been constructed. Safa Park didn’t exist. The only thing that could be seen in the distance was the newly completed Metropolitan Hotel.

The track leading to the school from Al Wasl Road was just a dirt road and on foggy days it was easy to drift off course. Flooding was a problem and after heavy rain the entrance area would be completely under water.

These days there are 169 private schools open in Dubai. JESS was the second British curriculum school in the emirate.

JESS Jumeirah in the deserted desert. These days there are 169 private schools in Dubai.

“In those early days, one had to be very flexible and unflappable and able to take things in one’s stride,” says JESS’s original headmistress Rita Biro. “When we first occupied the site, the electrical connection had not been completed and the power was produced by a massive generator. My first daily task was to make my way across the sand to this great beast and use all my strength to throw the switch and I still have the muscles to prove it!”

Children joined JESS when they reached 4.08 months

Children joined JESS when they reached 4.08 months

Paul Austin, currently director of PE at JESS Ranches, arrived in a very barren Dubai in 1976. “All I remember being able to see was the desert and the Trade Centre. Sheikh Zayed Road was the Abu Dhabi Road and there were still camels walking around everywhere.”

He started at JESS in 1977, just before his sixth birthday. There were no sports facilities at the time, and he remembers doing a football club on the sand outside the school, the area now used for parking. He recalls just one fixture during his five terms at JESS, against the only other international school at the time. “I was the goal keeper, and although I’m told I played well, we lost 0-10.”

1975-1976

1975-1976

Academically, he remembers trying to make himself invisible during maths class. “In fact, my maths was so bad that when asked what my tables were like during an interview for Prep School, I confidently replied that we had desks at JESS so I wasn’t sure.” Like many of the children at JESS at the time, he went on to boarding school.

Since its humble beginnings, JESS has stood strong through two regional wars (with contingency plans for evacuation via Fujairah in the Gulf War) and the global economic crisis of the 00s.

A second branch opened in Arabian Ranches in 2005. Memories of this new development include travelling to the under-construction Ranches site and wondering why they were driving out to the middle of nowhere; having to use the toilets in the shopping centre; no playgrounds to start with; repeated closures due to water pipes bursting; and Costa Coffee deliveries.

Some things never change!

The exhibition is an incredible illustration of the JESS journey through time. Some things never change, though, and I wanted to highlight several snippets that made me smile:

Springtime in Jumeirah: The British Consul-General in Dubai judges the Best Hat competition

Springtime in Jumeirah: The British Consul-General in Dubai judges the Best Hat competition

Shoes & driving: I’m not sure what year, but during the early days, one of the mums, wearing very high platform-soled shoes and driving a 4×4, pulled in to park, not knowing where her feet began and ended. She accelerated instead of breaking and ploughed into a breeze-block wall, demolishing it.

Demand for places: Waiting lists have been a problem right from the start. When the school reached several hundred students, the headmistress had to call a stop to expansion, citing the difficulty of teaching amid rubble and construction noise.

Parent involvement: This tradition began from the get-go, with parents in Dubai more actively involved in school than in Britain. Parents ran sports clubs during their lunch breaks before returning to work at 4pm; mothers came in with younger children to assist with activities; and it was through an action group that the swimming pool was funded.

Spring in the sunshine: The annual spring fair is a long-running institution, including, back in the day, a decorated Hat Parade with Easter Egg prizes; a display by the Dubai and Sharjah Morris Dancers; an attempt to break the non-stop skipping world record; traditional stalls selling home-made cakes, marmalade, etc; a tombola, lucky dip and Guess Your Weight (!). More British than Britain!

Here’s to the next 40 years!

2016 Year of Reading: Books on the beach

Posted on by

Exciting times for bookworms in the UAE as the government tackles the Arab reading crisis

Hot on the heels of those clever Smart Palms I blogged about last year (offering free wi-fi and charging points), there’s a new initiative coming to Dubai’s beaches which book lovers are going to love.

R&R: Try some reading & relaxation on the beach

R&R: Try some
reading & relaxation on the beach

The first set of library kiosks are being installed at Kite Beach in Umm Suqueim and Al Mamzar Beach, so sun-seekers can borrow books to read while relaxing. On leaving the beach, you return your book, or you can take a stroll along the sand and hand it back in at any of the other seaside library units.

What a great idea! It’s all part of the 2016 Year of Reading in the UAE – a subject close to my heart as I attempt (and often fail!) to instill a love of reading in my own boys. Each night, after tackling Son2’s Oxford Reading Tree books, I bring out the Kindle and present it to Son1 with a wry smile. I then set the stop watch on my phone: 15 minutes, “That’s ALL! … Right, Go…” I pick books I really think he’ll like, but still he’s reluctant, putting on a scowly face and stopping the moment the alarm rings.

The annual average reading rate for an Arab child is six minutes

Anyway… I will persevere. But it seems my problem is part of a wider, regional trend that’s referred to as “the reading crisis in the Arab world”. My sons are your typical expat kids, but among their Arab compatriots, reading levels are even lower.

The average reading time for an Arab child is six minutes a year, compared with 12,000 minutes for children in the West. To put this in perspective, for every six minutes spent reading by an Arab child, a child of similar age in the West will have been reading for 200 hours.

Coming soon in Arabic

Coming soon in Arabic

Last night, at a talk I attended about the future of publishing in the UAE, I heard why this crisis is so severe. Not only is there a lack of diversity in Arabic children’s books, but several studies of UAE readers have found that a national culture of reading for pleasure is still in its early stages. Reading is generally viewed as a duty, with many UAE youth finding it difficult or boring. “The bigger focus in this region has been on oral story telling and poetry,” said Isobel Abulhoul, director of the Emirates Airline Festival of Literature.

Several moves are afoot in the UAE to remedy the situation – such as the introduction of mobile libraries, Sharjah’s library-for-every-home scheme (delivering one million books to families in the emirate); and the Arab Reading Challenge, with AED11m ($3m) in cash prizes. (As someone who’s paid my own kids to read in the past, I can’t comment!).

Julie Till, head of business development at Oxford University Press, also pointed out that the much-loved Oxford Reading Tree books are set to be introduced in Arabic with original content. “We’re looking at things like paper quality, fonts – how to make children want to read the books,” said Julie. “It’s a great step, and I believe we’re at a tipping point in Arabic publishing.”

Changing the mindset of a whole society won’t happen overnight, warns Isobel, but she’s optimistic, and thankful that all the years she’s spent talking about the importance of literacy, reading and writing have been validated with such enthusiasm. “The government has taken a huge leap,” she says, “with the 2016 year of reading and initiatives at the highest levels to ensure the future generation is literate.”

So, watch out kiddos – your 15 minutes-a-night isn’t about to stop any time soon! And readers, look out for the solar-powered library kiosks the next time you’re on Kite or Al Mamzar beaches. There’s going to be titles in English and Arabic, as well as a selection of children’s books, offering bookworms “a cheerful read”. While you’ve got the sand between your toes and the waves crashing in your ears, just be careful not to get the pages covered in suntan lotion and ice cream!

Travel post: The Maldives – HOW MUCH?

Posted on by

Screen Shot 2016-02-04 at 23.29.24
If anything is going to make you feel like you’ve discovered paradise, it’s descending over some of the best beaches in the world, while peering out the airplane window at bone-white sand, lush greenery and the luminous cyan-blue water surrounding the Maldive islands.

Outdoor shower: Scrub up with the plants

Outdoor shower: Scrub up with the plants

Nearly a million people a year visit the Maldives and it’s not hard to see why. Located within easy flying distance of Dubai (about 435 miles southwest of Sri Lanka), the Maldives are made up of 26 coral atolls in a chain reaching down to cross the equator. There are about 1,200 small coral islands in total, of which some 200 are inhabited and 100 are resorts.

Of course, we all want to go. We’ve all seen the photos of bungalows on stilts, the ocean lapping gently below; we all know there are world-class diving and snorkeling opportunities right outside your door. But at some point, the question always comes up: HOW MUCH?

Not only is the Maldives Asia’s smallest country, but it is also one of its most exclusive. The only reason we made it there at the end of last year was a great deal, at a resort close to Male, so there were no extra sea-plane costs. That’s not to say we didn’t have a few money shocks while there. A comment I’ll never forget came from DH, on returning with food for the kids from the airport Burger King. His face had paled. “That burger just cost ten bucks,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “I paid in dollars and they kept the change.”

Lush: A feast of green

Lush: A feast of green

I looked at him askance. “They didn’t have any small change to give me,” he explained.

The hotels span the whole archipelago, and while the top-end brands attempt to out-do each other when it comes to luxury (think personal butlers and private lap pools), there are also options for families on a budget, divers and those looking for a peaceful at-one-with-nature experience. Despite the increased chance of stormy weather, tourists still visit the Maldives during the monsoon season and the resorts offer better deals during these months.

Underwater world

Sealife: An amazingly varied cast of colourful, aquatic characters live under the sea

Sealife: An amazingly varied cast of colourful, aquatic characters live under the sea

It’s the abundance of marine life that really sets the Maldives apart. There are huge coral walls, and magnificent caverns and overhangs festooned with colourful sponges. Rock pinnacles reach up from the seabed to scratch the surface like giant fingers. The clear waters are inhabited by an amazing cast of aquatic characters: brightly coloured tropical fish, Manta rays, turtles, tuna, reef sharks and even the world’s biggest fish, the whale shark.

With only one resort on each tourist island, it’s wise to be as picky selecting your accommodation as when choosing a cruise ship or renting a villa. Which leads to the question: With no sightseeing to do, no plans to be kept, could swimming, snorkeling and lying in the sun actually get boring?

My research found the answer to be no. Time in the Maldives takes on a different meaning: the minutes melt into hours, the hours into days. The toughest decision is deciding what to eat. There are no hawkers selling tacky souvenirs, and no taxi tours. Mosquitoes aren’t even a nuisance because there are few areas of open fresh water suitable for breeding.

When the novelty of doing so little does start to wear off, most resorts lay on beach volleyball in the late afternoon, sunset fishing and a local island hop. Dolphin spotting at sunset and a dance night are also common. Some resorts offer shows every night, a range of sports and even a golf course. But, however good your intentions are to be active, don’t be surprised if the gym falls by the wayside – exercise facilities are mostly used by the seaplane pilots.

Fact File

When to go: The best weather is between November and April, with the high season falling between December and March. The wet or rainy season begins in May and lasts through October.

Endangered: As the lowest country on earth (the highest point is less than 8 feet above sea level), the islands could disappear if sea levels keep rising. So real is this threat from climate change that the government has even looked into purchasing land in India, Sri Lanka and Australia to potentially relocate its roughly 300,000 residents one day.

Transport: Speedboats ply the nearer islands, while seaplanes transport guests staying further away. There are also fixed-wheel planes that service the five regional airports, from where it’s a speedboat ride.

Hot spot: The idyllic islands, with their impossibly turquoise lagoons and sun-soaked beaches, have only been a holiday destination for the past 40 years or so. Lying in such close proximity to the equator, the Maldives receive plenty of sunshine all year round, even in the low season.

The Kid Magnet: Why trampolines have their ups and downs

Posted on by

The rumour quickly went round that ours was the biggest on our street. I’m talking about Son2’s Christmas present: the hulking-great trampoline that appeared in our garden over the holidays, and takes up half the lawn. “It was on a special deal,” DH told me, as my eyebrows shot up into my hairline on seeing its enormous size for the first time.

No longer do I sit outside in the glorious weather admiring the bougainvillea hanging frothily over the back wall in a bloom of pink, white and orange. Now, I look at a piece of equipment, all metal, bounce mat and black netting, that could easily double as a zoo enclosure.

The kids LOVE IT, of course. And by kids, I mean all the children on our street. The knocks at the door start precisely three minutes after mine get home from school. I’m still turning smelly, inside-out socks the right way when the first rat-a-tat-tat comes. After that it’s a procession of small children, all eager to bounce.

Bigger than this, ours at least has a net

Bigger than this, ours at least has a net

Now, I don’t want to be a party pooper (and I do see the exercise value), but I’ll admit this came as a bit of a shock on my first day at home with the kids. Especially after a spell in a quiet, ordered office. I hadn’t realised our house had become as popular as Dubai’s Bounce, a trampoline playground loaded with springs and circus-grade sponge.

“But boys!” I said. “We’re just a backyard trampoline … There are some big differences between us and Bounce.” I held up one finger. “First, we don’t charge.” Another finger. “Second, I don’t hand out rainbow gripper socks.” I leaned forwards and raised a third finger. “And, most importantly, Bounce is properly supervised.”

“We need some rules here.”

My words dropped like rocks, leaving my boys with expressions carved from stone.

And so ‘The Rules’ came into force: a maximum of three children on the trampoline at any one time; keep the zipper closed; no crawling underneath it; only two friends inside the house and all mess tidied up by the perpetrators; no cats to be trapped inside the trampoline for entertainment purposes (“Yes really … cats don’t like bouncing.”)

As you can imagine, it’s not always easy policing all this, especially when all the yelling and squealing fills every molecule in your brain and the kids bounce so hard it even rattles the pans on the shelf in the kitchen. I swear it must be easier in a zoo.

The weight test on Dubai’s vertical Northern Line

Posted on by

I’m trying to have a lean month – cutting out the sweet treats that got out of hand over Christmas, bike rides outside in the glorious weather, even jumping on the kids’ trampoline.

But it’s not that easy, is it? My downfall, as always, is when goodies get brought into work. Today, it was someone’s birthday, and the most delicious cup cakes started doing the rounds – moist, melt-in-your-mouth little pieces of heaven, topped with frosting so delicious it actually glistened. Well, it would have been rude not to.

I then needed to go downstairs. I was waiting in the lobby for the elevator (we’re on the 25th floor), when I heard the noise.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

The New Year downfall: well who can resist?

The New Year downfall: well who can resist?

The elevator’s alarm, going off on the floor above.

We hear the sound a lot because there are only two elevators that go to the top of our tower, and they’re always overcrowded. Think a vertical Northern Line; office workers crammed in like sardines, all armpits and perfume. The very top floor of our building belongs to a Chinese company, and I swear they’re running a technology sweat shop up there, with hundreds of staff bussed in from Satwa every day.

The elevator stops at my floor, and the doors slide open. Now, I know someone missed the ride upstairs because I heard the alarm, signalling it was overloaded, but the 10 or so people jammed inside the lift start shuffling backwards to make room, for me.

Ten faces stare at me, their gazes boring into mine. Eyes torn from the Elevision TV screen in the top corner of the lift, attention ripped away from their smart phones, which they hold in their hands like compasses. Their faces look expectant, their mouths twitching. They’re all watching to see if I set the alarm off.

No, I think. I’ll wait for the next lift.

But they’re a friendly (lightly built, Asian) lot and beckon me in. They shoot me a come hither look, and I step in, gingerly. Breathing out. Treading so carefully it’s like the floor’s made of eggshells. I withhold my breath a little longer than is comfortable, bracing myself for the over-load buzzer and my undignified exit, in front of all 10 of them. Should I jettison my handbag? Standing on the scales at home is nothing in comparison to this.

Then the moment’s over. The doors swish shut, and the elevator descends.

I’ve got away with it – until the next round of cupcakes!

Silent Sunday: May the force be with you

Posted on by

We hit the desert at the weekend, on a safari filled with falcons, camels, food, fun and dune bashing. The sun really was the star of the show though, with an unforgettable sunset.

We hit the desert at the weekend, on a safari filled with falcons, camels, food, fun and dune bashing. The sun really was the star of the show though, with an unforgettable sunset. Simply beautiful!


This isn’t sponsored, but I really recommend Arabian Adventures if you’re looking for a desert safari tour operator.

Home for the holidays (on DH’s sleigh)

Posted on by

Holiday travel got a whole lot more exciting on Christmas Eve – a special day for us as DH flew us home!

It took a while to get off the ground: ten minutes before push-back, there were 121 passengers missing, no doubt doing some last-minute Christmas shopping. Once they’d been rounded up (bar two, who never made it out of duty free), we were off. At least we would have been if it wasn’t for the construction on the taxiways.

Still, wouldn’t be Dubai, would it, without roadworks?

Our flight on FlightTracker!

Our sleigh-ride on FlightTracker!

Towards the end of the flight, we hit turbulence. The seat-belt sign chimed. I felt the plane pitch, the thrumming of the engines as the aircraft bounced and shook.

Now, there was a time when being buffeted by strong, gusting wind like this would have caused a patch of sweat to form in the small of my back. My breath has even been known to come in shallow bursts during bad turbulence. But (by necessity) I’m so much better at this now!

No longer do I find myself gripping the armrest tightly, skull vibrating against the seat, eyes fixed straight ahead, as though undergoing a root canal. I can (almost) remain relaxed now.

Of course, there was something that helped enormously – DH’s voice. A cool baritone with a slight American twinge, which always sounds reassuring.

“Just to let you know we’ve sighted Santa on the radar,” he announced, to a rapturous gasp from the children on board. “And as a result, air traffic control has asked us to slow down to give Santa priority.”

Nice one, DH!

Do I really look like a Damian?

Posted on by

Last week, I had to pop into the doctors’ to pick up a prescription. I don’t know about you, but I find the whole subject of medicines in Dubai a little confusing sometimes.

This might have something to do with the fact that you can walk up to a pharmacy here and buy antibiotics, while other medicines (like codeine) that can be bought without a prescription in other countries are restricted.

Anyway, I digress. Back to my prescription. I gave my name, and the receptionist started flicking through a pile of white envelopes. She pulled one out and opened it. A quizzical look passed over her face – the insurance details didn’t match up.

While it is actually against the law to sell antibiotics, most pharmacies ignore the directive. Customers can easily get hold of antibiotics over the counter, and the pharmacy makes a profit from selling them without a prescription. A dose of superbug, anyone?

While it is actually against the law to sell antibiotics, most pharmacies ignore the directive. Customers can easily get hold of antibiotics over the counter, and the pharmacy makes a profit from selling them without a prescription. A dose of superbug, anyone?

She straightened her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. “Maybe your insurance used to be Axa?” she said, pointedly.

“Erm, no,” I replied, shaking my head. She glossed over my answer, and thrust the envelope into my hand anyway.

A little voice told me to check it as I was walking out the door.

And let’s just say I’m very glad I did.

Inside was a prescription and a letter from the doctor – to someone completely not me. Someone called Damian.

I walked back into the clinic. “Excuse me,” I said politely. “The prescription – it’s not mine.”

The receptionist glanced at it. Then stared at me, the same puzzled expression on her face. I tried again. “It’s for someone called Damian.”

She kept her gaze, and with shoulders still straight and her tone easy, she said, “But the surname?” She pointed at the front of the envelope. “It’s the same? Yes.”

“Similar – but not the same. Look – I’m really not Damian.”

She eyed me suspiciously. And I shook my head again. “This is for Damian. Someone else … A man.”

Her eyebrows lifted as I forced a smile, hoping to end the unexpected standoff.

“Nope, not me.”

Finally, she was persuaded, and whipped the prescription back before returning to the pile of envelopes to find the correct one.

As I said, it can be a funny ole healthcare system sometimes.

The driver/maid combo

Posted on by
Drivers in Dubai come with all kinds of wheels: And I don't mean regular drivers. I mean the paid kind who ferry kids back and forth. Pic credit: The National

Drivers in Dubai come with all kinds of wheels: And I don’t mean regular drivers. I mean the paid kind who ferry kids back and forth. Pic credit: The National

After much raucous excitement (go-karting, lasertag, pizza and ice cream x 15 kids), I let out a long, slow, deep breath – Son1’s birthday was OVER. Thank God! Everyone had gone home.

At least I thought they had … until DH piped up, “Oh wait, someone’s still here.”

A boy. Let’s call him H. He was inside the building, standing around quietly, waiting for someone to pick him up.

I told DH to head off with our two. H and I stood on the kerb outside, in the dark – the moon was full, the sky full of stars. We chatted – he was a nice kid, grown-up for his age. He was also getting worried about the fact no one had come for him. “I’m sure your mum will be here any minute,” I said kindly, stifling a yawn (end of the work/school week, blimin’ knackered).

“Can I use your phone?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said. “Do you know your mum’s number?”

He nodded, and I handed my mobile over.

A few seconds later, I heard a small voice – much more plaintiff than the polite tone he’d been using to chat with me. “Mummy!” he squeaked. A few more words were exchanged as he scuffed his foot against the pavement. “But there’s no-one here.”

When he got off the phone, I asked (and I’ll admit I was more than a little hopeful myself as I REALLY wanted to go home), “So is she coming?”

H shrugged. “My driver’s coming.”

Now, this in itself isn’t at all surprising in Dubai, but what did surprise me is we sat on the kerb for another 20+ minutes without so much as a message (or apology) from his parents, and when a car eventually screeched to a halt (a driver-maid combo), the darkened windows meant there was no eye contact. I walked round to make sure he was getting in the right vehicle, but they were clearly in a hurry. After a quick “sorreeee” and “goodbye”, the car door slammed and they were off in a puff of smoke.

I listened to the crunching of gravel as they veered across the car park, and thought, “Thank Gawd, now I can go home – half an hour late. Just in time to clear up all the shredded pieces of wrapping paper I’m sure will be strewn all over the floor by now.”

A little odd, I decided. Madam can’t have known her driver was running so late, or she would have texted. Wouldn’t she? Or am I too English and hung up on manners?

Either way, it takes all sorts to make Dubai go round, doesn’t it?

WhatsApp, mum? … The class chat group

Posted on by

Proactive parents will all know about the class mums’ WhatsApp group – the 24/7 group ‘chat’ on the ubiquitous phone messaging system, in which mums discuss anything from homework to lost items and how much to give kids for the bake sale.

I’m all for it (mostly) – it helps me stay on top of things, and any questions you post on the group are usually answered within seconds. I’m now included in four motherhood WhatsApp groups: two school groups and two groups for the baseball teams my sons play on.

"Just a quick reminder that tomorrow is Florence Nightingale Day – don't forget the kids' costumes!"

“Just a quick reminder that tomorrow is Florence Nightingale Day – don’t forget the kids’ costumes!”

The corners of my mouth did twitch upwards, though, when I found myself discussing these memberships with the working mums at my office – because, if I’m perfectly honest, there’s nothing quite like coming out of a meeting to a phone screen full of 26 messages about head lice.

Or getting home, tired, and hearing…

Ding, ding, ding, ding!

… As messages download about all the homework you haven’t had time to do with your children as you’ve been at work.

I’ve also come to the realisation that it’s an incredibly powerful medium. Just as social media has been at the core of some of the world’s biggest protests, WhatsApp brings parents together in a way that can actually overthrow teachers.

I was talking to V, full-time at my office, and the mother of a little girl. She was looking harassed – a slight flush to her cheeks so I asked her what was wrong.

Her eyebrows snapped together. “It’s the mums in H’s class,” she said. “I’ve got all these messages on my phone about the replacement teacher – they want someone other than the person who’s been chosen.”

She gave a half shrug. “I just think the woman should be given a chance.”

See what I mean? The mums in her WhatsApp group were planning a COUP.

Then there was my chat with A, mother of two boys and currently juggling a new job with a mad dash out of the office at midday to do the school run followed by a full afternoon back at her desk.

“There’s this WhatsApp group,” she told me.

I gave her a knowing smile. I could tell by the way her face had contorted that she was getting a little frustrated with the nature of some of the messages (“My son always forgets to bring things home from school!” “Yeah? Mine too!”; “I’m the first one to arrive for parents-teachers day!” *picture of empty school hall* “Reserve a seat for me!”).

“I got home the other night,” my work colleague A told me, “and there were 58 messages from the class mums – trending tennis coaching.”

Facepalm – but then again, as I’ve come to realise, the Mummies’ WhatsApp group is also incredibly useful, and who wants to be the only mum who has to be sent separate text messages from the virtual motherhood circle (that is, if they remember – I mean, do you live under a rock?).

Peer pressure, I’d say, and the fear you’ll get everything wrong are enough to make most of us get with the programme.