How could our bedroom be so calm when I opened my eyes this morning?

The Inspector came today.  

I'd had a month's notice to be fair and had prepared a good lesson on paper (on the back of a  qi gong lesson which got me temporarily out of a rut), but my head was a fog of bad associations and my stomach churned.

My last inspection was a damp squib.  I found out about it from the Head who rang me while I was in the Musée de la Rétirada in Argelès with a bunch of pupils, to 'remind' me I was to be inspected the next day.  

It was the Inspector's first inspection and she may as well have hauled me onto a plank of wood and driven nails into my hands.  Bobby died less than a week later, the doc signed me off for the remaining three weeks of term.

This morning the head mistress arrived with M. Bégué who smiled at me and shook my hand.  They both settled down at the back of the room, the boys filtered in, register, my shaking hand on the mouse as I scrolled through the names and then something amazing happened.  I found a little flame of confidence in myself and, along with the boys, we beat it into a fire that burned for 50 minutes.

The boys left for lunch and I was left with M. Bégué for the debriefing.  
I expected the worst and got the best. 

I drove home with my head exploding with Spring and relief and vindication.  

Nico bought champagne, Jo bought a bunch of double daffodils that look like fried eggs on speed and all the devastating badness of last year lifted