has any washing, throw it down now. I’m putting on a wash!”
I threw down my fluorescent red T-shirt and Sally flung a load of black clothes.
“You’re welcome!” said Dad sarcastically as he picked them up off the hall floor.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, but Sally just flounced back into her room, slamming her door after her. She was in one of her moods.
I went back into my room too and sat down to do my homework. I didn’t want to do it, but I decided I’d better or Dad might just kill me, so I threw Socky on the bed and opened up my math book.
Would you believe it? Fractions for homework. Fractions were invented by some evil madman who got his kicks out of making schoolchildren miserable.
“If there were twenty-five sweets in a bag and Anne ate three-fifths of them, how many sweets were left?”
I mean, who cares? Why didn’t she just eat all the sweets like a normal child? Then the problem would have been easy. She was probably one of those horrible girls who always saves some sweets for later so that they can suck them slowly in front of you when you’ve finished all your own, and you just feel like smacking them.
Anyway, there was no point in getting all worked up over some greedy little girl, so I just got on with the problem. Three-fifths of twenty-five — I mean, how hard can that be? Too hard for me! So I texted Orla.
Divide by the bottom and multiply by the top and subtract your answer from 25. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. Luv u Orla.
That didn’t sound too hard. So I had to divide twenty-five by five, which was the bottom of the fraction. If I’d had the sweets it would have been easier — because dividing is pretty tricky when you haven’t done it for as long as I hadn’t. So I started doing it on my fingers, but that didn’t work so well because I don’t have twenty-five fingers.
Then Dad called us down for dinner, which was a relief because I was starving — but it did make me lose count. At this rate I was never going to get my homework done.
Dinner was a sad, quiet affair. Dad had made some sort of pig swill that was meant to be a stew, and you would have had to be starving to eat it. Or afraid that your father was going to kill you if you didn’t. I was both. So I managed to get it down. Conor, of course, shoveled it in. I seriously think that he has no taste buds at all. Sally pushed her stew around the plate and ate the odd forkful. The fight seemed a bit knocked out of her — or else she just wanted to get away as quick as she could.
“So how’s the homework going?” Dad asked no one in particular. So no one in particular answered. Dad seemed to be enjoying his dinner — he was already taking seconds. You can see clearly where Conor gets his sense of taste. “Conor? Any problems with your homework?” he asked the top of Conor’s head. (When Conor eats, his nose nearly touches the plate.)
“No,” said Conor.
“OK. How about you, Sally?”
Sally grunted something that nobody caught and Dad didn’t ask her again.
“Do
you
need any help with your homework, Mimi?” Dad turned to me. He was trying to be helpful, and Conor and Sally were being so rude to him. I felt sorry for Dad, so I said that I
did
need help with math . . . which was true, actually.
So after dinner when the others had gone back to their rooms to finish their homework or whatever they were doing, I brought down my math book and sat down with Dad at the kitchen table. Mammy used to help me every day with my homework, and although we’d sometimes end up shouting at each other, I’d have done anything to have her back for one minute, even of shouting.
I was thinking about this while Dad read out the question. “Three-fifths of twenty-five. Right. First things first. Do you know what a fifth is?” he asked me.
“Not really,” I had to admit.
“That’s no problem,” said Dad. “It’s easily explained. Imagine a pizza.”
“I’d prefer not to,” I said with a little smile. The pizza
I threw down my fluorescent red T-shirt and Sally flung a load of black clothes.
“You’re welcome!” said Dad sarcastically as he picked them up off the hall floor.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, but Sally just flounced back into her room, slamming her door after her. She was in one of her moods.
I went back into my room too and sat down to do my homework. I didn’t want to do it, but I decided I’d better or Dad might just kill me, so I threw Socky on the bed and opened up my math book.
Would you believe it? Fractions for homework. Fractions were invented by some evil madman who got his kicks out of making schoolchildren miserable.
“If there were twenty-five sweets in a bag and Anne ate three-fifths of them, how many sweets were left?”
I mean, who cares? Why didn’t she just eat all the sweets like a normal child? Then the problem would have been easy. She was probably one of those horrible girls who always saves some sweets for later so that they can suck them slowly in front of you when you’ve finished all your own, and you just feel like smacking them.
Anyway, there was no point in getting all worked up over some greedy little girl, so I just got on with the problem. Three-fifths of twenty-five — I mean, how hard can that be? Too hard for me! So I texted Orla.
Divide by the bottom and multiply by the top and subtract your answer from 25. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. Luv u Orla.
That didn’t sound too hard. So I had to divide twenty-five by five, which was the bottom of the fraction. If I’d had the sweets it would have been easier — because dividing is pretty tricky when you haven’t done it for as long as I hadn’t. So I started doing it on my fingers, but that didn’t work so well because I don’t have twenty-five fingers.
Then Dad called us down for dinner, which was a relief because I was starving — but it did make me lose count. At this rate I was never going to get my homework done.
Dinner was a sad, quiet affair. Dad had made some sort of pig swill that was meant to be a stew, and you would have had to be starving to eat it. Or afraid that your father was going to kill you if you didn’t. I was both. So I managed to get it down. Conor, of course, shoveled it in. I seriously think that he has no taste buds at all. Sally pushed her stew around the plate and ate the odd forkful. The fight seemed a bit knocked out of her — or else she just wanted to get away as quick as she could.
“So how’s the homework going?” Dad asked no one in particular. So no one in particular answered. Dad seemed to be enjoying his dinner — he was already taking seconds. You can see clearly where Conor gets his sense of taste. “Conor? Any problems with your homework?” he asked the top of Conor’s head. (When Conor eats, his nose nearly touches the plate.)
“No,” said Conor.
“OK. How about you, Sally?”
Sally grunted something that nobody caught and Dad didn’t ask her again.
“Do
you
need any help with your homework, Mimi?” Dad turned to me. He was trying to be helpful, and Conor and Sally were being so rude to him. I felt sorry for Dad, so I said that I
did
need help with math . . . which was true, actually.
So after dinner when the others had gone back to their rooms to finish their homework or whatever they were doing, I brought down my math book and sat down with Dad at the kitchen table. Mammy used to help me every day with my homework, and although we’d sometimes end up shouting at each other, I’d have done anything to have her back for one minute, even of shouting.
I was thinking about this while Dad read out the question. “Three-fifths of twenty-five. Right. First things first. Do you know what a fifth is?” he asked me.
“Not really,” I had to admit.
“That’s no problem,” said Dad. “It’s easily explained. Imagine a pizza.”
“I’d prefer not to,” I said with a little smile. The pizza
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