Uniformed

I’ve been staring at the school uniform pictures online for the last half an hour. And it’s not the first time I’m doing it. My viewings have lasted at least a couple of weeks. Usually after a while I leave the page open to come back to it, then move on to do other things and at the end of the day convince myself (I don’t actually need that much convincing) that I’m too tired to decide on such an important matter. I admit it, I can be quite indecisive. Not that it should come as a surprise to anyone.

My daughter is moving schools and I can’t decide what and how many and I guess I still haven’t totally got used to the idea of being organised so early on. And also I haven’t really learnt my lesson during these years either for leaving it late as I’ve still managed so far. I do remember when A started school and Matt urged me to get a uniform for her, telling me how it’ll be sold out by the time autumn term begins. But it was still middle of a summer! I couldn’t possible trust him on this, despite of the fact that this being his home country and that’s where he went to school. I gave in slightly and got a couple of things (not enough!) after inspecting the uniform aisle for an immeasurable amount of time, pulling out a few polo shirts from its packets (yes, I’m the one who occasionally takes the clothes out of the packets to check the size, because every single shop seems to use different measurements, but believe me I do try my very best to put them back as they were.. In the same considerate way that I sometimes use when I notice someone’s left clothes lying on the shop floor, and I start to collect them and hang them nicely up again. That can be very time consuming I have to say).

I’ve never asked my parents though how easy it was to get a school uniform when we were little and Estonia was still part of the Soviet Union, because that’s when it was compulsory (among other things) to wear a uniform, but with Estonia becoming independent, we ditched our blue blouses and navy pinafores and skipped to school freely in our own choice of clothing. A lot of it in my case was second hand, shipped from abroad and donated to the church which passed these valuable items on to its members’ families.

When I moved to London and started my very first job there, I found myself almost like being back at Soviet school again. I stood by the locker getting dressed into the same blue long-sleeved blouse with the navy pleated skirt and waistcoat. The only thing I was missing was the Soviet Little Octobrist red star badge with young Lenin on it. No, I wasn’t actually missing (both: not owning and not longing for) it and to be honest I never really wanted to be an exemplary Octobrist or a Pioneer, whom luckily I never had to become.

But coming back to the previous matter of being organised early and/or on time, I think in general Estonians tend to make arrangements closer to the date and don’t plan that far ahead than people here in the UK. It could be just because Estonia is a small country with millions and millions fewer people to compete with and take into consideration (that does NOT imply that we are less considerate people though!).

And additionally to set your mind (truth should be told - my mind, not yours) at rest, I promise, I will order her uniform… soon enough.