The other day, dropping the monsters off for their first day of school at the utterly gorgeous 'Pelangi School' set amidst rice paddy fields, I couldn't help but mutter to the husband, "Wow...compare this to a local comprehensive in Peckham".
I would have killed to attend such a picture perfect postcard of a learning institution when I was young (heck - I'd enroll here and now if they'd let me). The toys are clean, there's brightly coloured soft play-dough, loads of arts and crafts painting easels, and even pretty little mats scattered about so the children don't have to rest their sweet little behinds on the gorgeous hardwood floors.
Saying that, tuition is £100 per week for the boys, but what a great experience - even if it does lead to a lifetime of negative comparison from here on in. And don't even get me started on the school dinners. My goodness. Ducking into the clean pretty kitchen we saw a sight that would have had Jamie Oliver crying tears of joy into his homemade shrimp ravioli. Two Balinese ladies chopping up fresh chicken for the mouthwatering mixed vegetable stir-fry lunch...
And guess what the uniform is? No ill-fitting navy dress trousers or polyester blend cardigans in sight - it's strictly soft organic rainbow tie-dyed t-shirts. I kid you not.
The other day at drop off, the husband and I walked past an open-air classroom from which we could hear a dozen or so four year olds chanting in unison, "We are SUPA-happy!".
Too right. If my early schooling days had consisted of being kindly instructed in an ethereally beautiful setting, by gentle, soft spoken, constantly smiling Balinese instructors...well...I might have not turned out to be such a moaning mum.