Last updated 19:46, Thursday, 11 September 2008

THIS WEEK I have been mostly buying school uniforms.

By Jo Lister

It’s been a “season of mists” for about as long as the school holidays have, and as long as Back to School advertisements first appeared in all the shops.

But today it can’t be avoided, so it’s off to buy a school uniform.

Having decided finally to buy from the most reputable store (with, hopefully, the better child labour standards but higher costs), off we set.

The youngest (who is, as he reminds everyone, nearly four) needs shoes, but my daughter, who is mostly 10 but sometimes 15, is the biggest problem – she needs the whole kit ‘n’ caboodle.

Why is it that shops never seem to provide the exact age clothing for your child?

When she was eight going on nine, the only sizes available were 7-8 or 9-10.

Now she’s 10-11, it’s either 9-10 or 11-12 that are on the rails.

I should have remembered to pack the tape measure. Having established the right size, you search maniacally to find the corresponding grey-trousers-with-the-diamante-encrusted-pocket that is soooo this season.

There’s a 7-8 and an 9-10 but as she’s 11-12 (she’s shot up a lot), there is nothing. Zilch. Nada. The less trendy and paper thin ones will have to do. Cue sulk number one.

Trying to preserve her feet before the onset of teenage five-inch stilettos, we trudge off to the sensible shoe shop, beating the woman with five kids to the deli-style ticket machine. She’s already seen what she wants, but having inherited my narrow feet, forget anything trendy. Sulk number two threatens. But then joy! A pair – acceptable and available.

And as the boy is content with the flashing lights trainers, a happy bunch departs the shop.

Problems solved, till the birthday next month.