A little paperwork goes a long way

©James Ferguson

I have been very lucky this year. Usually, I am not a great believer in luck – I prefer to think of being “blessed”, and in any case I believe that most of us make our own luck. But when my arm was put back together again in a British operating theatre several weeks ago I felt very grateful indeed that my surgeon had not retired, as he had planned to, on his recent 60th birthday.

Rather than doing whatever he may have had scheduled for his retirement, Mr Richard Keys, among no doubt many other mercy missions, inserted two metal pins into my arm just below my wrist. For my recent trip to the US I had to have an ugly white split cast (to allow for in-flight swelling) specially made so that I would be permitted to fly, but now I am back in the UK I have returned to my preferred purple one, which will be with me for a few weeks yet.

While I was in New York I did a number of TV interviews, and count myself lucky that the journalists doing the interrogating were all people whom I admire enormously: Andrew Ross Sorkin at CNBC, Stephanie Ruhle at Bloomberg and Erin Burnett at CNN. Burnett in particular had clearly read almost everything I have ever written, and – forget lucky – I felt completely humbled by her professionalism. She is extraordinarily well read; indeed she told me she reads two books a week. After the interview finished we stood in the studio while I admired her stunning engagement ring (maybe if I looked like, and was as clever as, Erin Burnett someone would have bought me an engagement ring like that?) and discussed writers that we love.

I also feel lucky that I have been forced to be at home a bit more often than usual. Thus I was there to take the call from Mr M, sitting in the car at the school bus stop fretting about the whereabouts of CC#3. Was the bus late? Was he late? Or was CC#3 walking home alone along the dark – and pretty dangerous – road?

I called the school, hoping someone would still answer at 6pm. Answer they did, and pointed out that it was the lower school drama evening that day and CC#3 was in a production that finished at 9pm, when he should be collected. Had we not read the school’s letter to that effect?

Paperwork is not Mr M’s first love, and he is of the opinion that far too much of it is directed our way from both of the schools with which we are currently engaged. I do sympathise, but have pointed out that a few minutes reading the paperwork would have spared him many more minutes of pointless anxiety, plus CC#3 would have had, for once, both parents in attendance at his drama evening.

Until recently I would have been apoplectic with Mr M about this, but this time I just felt grateful – or even lucky? – that I have someone who loves our children so much taking care of them.

I was also pretty pleased that CC#3 attends a school where the teaching staff are prepared to stay late on a Friday night to give pupils the chance to perform. Maybe we should remember to say thank you more often to those whom we are lucky enough to have teaching our children.

One of those remarkable people is a woman whom I never met, Sister Patricia Kelly. Sister Patricia, who died unexpectedly recently, taught for many years at the Notre Dame girls’ school in Cobham, Surrey. Several of my friends happen to have daughters there, and all of them have mentioned separately what a special person she was. By chance one of my most inspiring former bosses is now the chairman of governors at Notre Dame, so I wrote to him to express my sympathy at her untimely death. His reply referred to her huge and generally unsung contribution to improving education for women. He clearly feels lucky to have had the privilege of working with her.

mrsmoneypenny@ft.com

To comment, please email magazineletters@ft.com