Summer has returned from the Continent. Hip, hip, hooray.

Friday was dismal, weather wise. Anne, my friend of many years from Oz, came with her two daughters, Sara and Sophie. And dogs, Lucy and Max. Domino was thrilled to have some canine company.

Anne is at the top of the game, professionally. She is General Counsel (GC) for a major accountancy firm. She was previously GC for them in Australia. Sara excitedly told me that there had been a write-up about her Mum in The Australian newspaper the day before. Anne was mentioned as one of the superwomen, opting out of private law practice, to forge an in-house career for a major corporation.

It was some down time for Anne, with her girls and her old school mate, me: we met at school at the age of five. Astonishing that we have remained friends for almost 50 years.

First we had a delicious lunch at The Hawkley Inn. As good Aussie sheilas, we all chose meat! Burgers, steak and pork belly! Then after lunch, we went for a walk towards The Hangers, a pretty ridge of woodland, not far from the Old Rectory. On the way we were stung by nettles; the dogs wanted to eat the adorable, fluffy lambs and the mothering cows looked at us threateningly.

Did this faze our GC Anne? Not one iota. She adroitly managed a conference call midway on the walk with Mark from Scandinavia. Whilst she power-talked away on her iphone, she expertly avoided nettle stings by lifting her hands above her head. Anne is a multi tasker. Crucial for a successful business woman!

Sara and Sophie now attend a leading Central London girls’ school, similar to the ones my children attended a while back.

What a contrast to the school gate Anne and I arrived at each week-day morning from the age of 5 to 12 in Kingsgrove, a suburb of Sydney, in the St George district!

At our school, Mums, rarely Dads, dropped their children off in modest cars, Combi vans (like the Crundwells), Fords, Holdens (General Motors) and Japanese cars, or by foot. They were dressed in pretty summer dresses and thongs (flip flops), or they wore casual trousers teamed with cotton shirts. Smoking was not evil in those days, not known to kill you, and some would be puffing away. They went off to jobs, few professional, or home to housework.

Contrast that to the “Chelsea” mother at the school gate. Of course there are ‘normal mothers’, but many are the super over-class that inhabit the area. Mother has her hair regularly blow dried. Her nails and toes look like polished Smeg fridges. If she is off to the gym next and not to the office, she is kitted out the latest Sweaty Betty attire. She perhaps drives a Porsche Cayenne or Range Rover, both rather too large for the narrow streets of Chelsea. Sometimes, Masters of Industry, of both sexes, drop their children off en route to the office, so will be expensively clothed by well-known designers. Alternatively, the chauffeur or nanny drives them.

Hugo went to school in Chelsea, on a one way system fed from Kings Road. A small number of parents would just double park and clog the system. The pandemonium that ensued was spectacular. Non-school drivers would furiously honk their horns to no effect, and some would actually get out and threaten offending parents. Rather than move on, the offending parents would ignore it all and serenely alight from their cars and walk their boy to the front door and then serenely drive off. It was as if they were in a parallel universe where theirs was the only car that existed. Many times, the police were called by residents.

Obviously when Anne drops her girls to school she abides by the law!

Eventually a no park zone was installed in front of the school.