About a week ago, I was woken up by Puff. "Here," she said, thrusting a pen and my chequebook into my hands. "Sign this cheque. It's for Younger's class trip." Bleary eyed and less than half awake, I signed my name, or I think I signed my name, somewhere in the region of the line. I then went back to sleep, not knowing how much, or for what kind of trip I had just paid.
As it turns out. the trip is connected to her English class. Ah! you think. She must be going to one of Shakespeare's plays, or some such. Sorry, but no. You would be wrong in making such an assumption. The book they are studying is Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and the trip is to an actual chocolate factory. Sadly, the charming Oompa Loompas will not be singing little songs giving the children and their parents sage and common sense advice as they ironically punish and purge the children of their vices. Oh no. That would be something worthwhile. Instead, they are going to the real deal, where they will be shown how chocolate is made, (by machine) then they will be allowed to sample some chocolate, (the fresh made kind, not the kind that has been sitting in a warehouse, then a truck, then a shelf, for weeks) so they are all nice and wired by the time the return home to their overworked and under loved parents. This, I am sure, will grant them tremendous insight into the literary world of the book.
I have only two questions: 1. Just how much money was on that cheque I signed? and 2. Where the heck were these trips when I was a kid?