WS=Wicked Stepmother GB=Gollum Boy, the online gamer BP=Biological Parent
School holidays have begun. The only students attending collège this week are doing final year oral exams in preparation for lycée next September.
GB has one more year in collège. He handed in all his text books on Tuesday. He said it was painful. Wicked Stepmother thought he meant he was heartbroken to see them for the last time. (Joke)
No, he said, it was painful because they were so heavy.
On Wednesday he floated off, sans text books, for the morning bus and probably floated back at midday to make his own bacon sandwich for lunch. We weren’t at home to witness. Himself and I were entertaining visitors and actually having a rather nice picnic in the hills above Clermont Hérault with a large ready-roasted pintade from the market, tomatoes, cheese and crusty bread. GB would not eat this fare and, anyway, picnics are for boring old farts.
When we arrived home, the kitchen bore the evidence of GB’s culinary efforts, complete with tomato sauce-streaked plate left where he’d finished with it. GB was where we expected him to be: glued to the X-Box, the 10 week holiday grin already secure upon his face. (We noticed it when he came down to see if we’d brought back any chocolate biscuits.)
His final day at collège this semester was Thursday last. The grin grew even wider.
‘What are you going to do with all this time off?’ said BP.
‘Hmmph!’ GB replied.
Nothing more was said at the time.
On Friday, GB spent all day gaming.
On Saturday, GB spent all day gaming.
On Sunday, there was a sea change.
Oh, yes.
Wicked Stepmother had nothing to do with it and remained, her own thin grin firmly in place, out of sight.
Biological Parent put the question again.
‘What are you going to do with all this time off?’
No answer. Not even a humph.
‘If you can’t come up with ideas of your own, GB, I’ll think of some for you.’
No answer.
‘I’d like you to come down at three this afternoon and help me in the garden.’
Three o’ clock came and went.
BP went to the garage. He walked over to the electricity control box.
Our power controls are different in France from what we were used to in the UK. We don’t have ring circuits here. Each room can be isolated by the switches on the main control box.
At 3:15pm last Sunday afternoon, two rooms were blacked out.
At 3:15pm last Sunday afternoon, the plug was literally (almost) pulled on activities at the top of the house.
At 3:15pm last Sunday afternoon, there was no X-Box, no YouTube live streamed games/tutorials from Syndicate the #1 UK gamer. The lights were out. The sockets were dead.
BP waited in the garden where GB’s old bike awaited cleaning and maintenance before we sell it.
Power was not restored until 6pm. So, GB still had minimum 8 hours game playing from when he got up to lights out. I think it’s way too much.
Wicked Stepmother plans to show this post to BP, especially the picture about 10,000 hours spent by the age of twenty-one. Isn’t that such a waste of a young life?
What do you think?
