Today the sky is clear, and the sun is revving up for a hot day. How long will this blissful weather last?

Yesterday, Niki and Piers brought their eight year old son, Ben, to swim and have lunch in the sun. Matilda, our mutual friend, joined us from London. Geoff played water polo with Ben, just as he used to play with Hugo at the same age: energetically and loudly. The years melted away. Where had time gone since Hugo was young enough to be carried like I now carry Domino, our Italian greyhound?

 

When we moved to Chelsea, Hugo had a year to go until he went to preparatory school at eight. There were about five schools to send him to near Chelsea. We decided we liked the looked of Sussex House, a tall, Norman Shaw designed, school in Cadogan Square, reminiscent of a Dutch building, just behind Sloane Square.

The dynamo headmaster, Nicholas Kaye, is fascinated by architecture and personally restored the school in high-Victorian style, complete with William Morris wallpaper. He lives ‘above the shop’, at the very top of the building. Even though the school lacks a playground, it has a first class art department, and, in the past, it has produced a number of champion fencers. It was reputed to be pastoral; that was the main thing we liked about it.

The staff, who dressed with academic gowns, seemed to know all the boys well. There was an ex-Sargeant, who patrolled the front door, but he did a lot more than that. He messed around with the boys, kept them in check and helped them if they needed assistance. He was a top bloke; a rough diamond with a big heart. The school had a Harry Potter feel about it; in fact, Daniel Radcliffe, who played Harry, went to the school.

The big issue, was that it was notoriously hard to get into. Anyway, Hugo sat the test shortly after our relocation to Chelsea, and we were delighted, and relieved, that he was offered a place. We could stop sweating. Strange things happen to some parents in the run up to school entrance exams. They wish that they could sit the test for their children. They try to impart last minute knowledge as they drive the child to the test, as if that could really help them to pass. I know, because I was, sadly, one of those parents. It is a brutal and competitive process!

We had four things that needed to slot into place to make the move north of the river successful: sell the house, buy a house, find a school for both Anna and then Hugo. Three out of four were in the bag.

For the time being, I had to continue to commute back south, over Chelsea Bridge, to take Hugo to his existing school. It was a pain, but it had to be done. After he started, the following year, I had the most blissful school commute. Down Kings Road to Sloane Square, then left by Peter Jones into Cadogan Square – drop Hugo – then onto to Beauchamp Place past Diana’s old haunt, the restaurant San Lorenzo, left into Kensington Road (I could see Harrods in my rearview mirror), past the Brompton Oratory/V &A Museum/Natural History Museum and then left into Queen’s Gate – to drop Anna.

Matilda had a sleepover last night, so we are heading to the sea for the morning. Domino regards her as part of the family, so he cheekily pushed her door opened this morning, licked her face and insisted on getting under the sheets.