You may have been wondering what caused my gloom yesterday, and rightly so. I can tell you, because there’s been an unexpected conclusion to the problem, out of left field.
Since arriving in New Delhi at the start of October, my daughter, aged six, has not been attending school, for a variety of frustrating reasons out of our hands. It’s been a strain, to say the least, waiting, and waiting, for news of a place to emerge. The stress, particularly for my wife, has been enormous. Had we kept Eva out of school that long in the UK, the authorities would have intervened ages ago, and rightly so.
What we were holding out for was the start of the new term, when there’s usually some movement in the ex-pat schools here, as some people move on. Yesterday, we found out there had been none – worse, Eva had been gazumped by new arrivals, was further from a place than ever, and might well not find herself in school until the next academic year.
Which is when we decided we were probably going to have to go back to the UK. Living overseas is a fine and splendid opportunity to seize, but not at the cost of a year’s education for your child.
It was a long and unpleasant twenty-four hours.
And today, thanks to a ridiculous string of fortunate and unlikely occurrences, we have a school place. She starts on Monday. The relief is almost as shattering as the stress and depression was.
So, that’s what that was all about. Now we can do things we’ve been avoiding, in case the UK beckoned. Like, you know, settle in and actually making this place a home.