All join in

We are joining in with the nation's movement. Yes, the home educators in this house are showing the world that we are not outside your normal society, but we too can conjure with cup cakes and go joobly joobly joobly.

To show my devotion to the national mood, and how happily I can join in to sit in a wet park with an umbrella, this morning I gaily contributed my Queen-headed pounds to Sainsbury's profit sheet and I bought squirty pink plastic cake topping and 200 silver sugar balls. Then I set Squirrel onto the celebratory cake-making ceremony.

 Apart from the spoon-throwing grumpty bit when I had to scrape splattered cake blood off the floor, she joined in extremely well and I have awarded her a gold star for National Mood Joining In.

Of course making cup cakes and enjoying the bunting down Gas Street does not make me a monarchist. But I am not a republican either. I want both. Perhaps a monarchy with a small house and M&S clothing, plus a part-time lady president who does pomp and ceremony and has a heraldic shield.

I know this is very confused thinking. Maybe it is like wanting to keep the Archbishop of Canterbury but without the religion (come to think of it, I want that too). However, this chaotic confusion in my head is alright by me.

In fact, I will defend my indefensible arguments and irreconcilable impulses.

With this mess, I can egg on the children to the joobly celebrations and encourage them in celebrating the consequences of a Norman invasion in 1066, while simultaneously reminding them that all monarchs throughout history all over the world are excellent role models for greed, indolence, arrogance, envy, deceit, amoral political manipulation, and demonstrations of sociopathic behaviour. While we're at it, let's add fratricide, betrayal, misplaced loyalties and all the faults of a hereditary system.

Then I start on the presidents.

(Don't you want to join Grit's celebratory joobly party now, eh?)

At the nub of it, I defend confusion. Both the monarchists and the republicans scare me. Any dedicated ideological purity scares me. Even in home ed land.

When Baronness Deech graced the home ed blogs to label them an ideological mish-mash, I would have given her a big smackeroo had she been in grabbing distance. Ideological mish-mash sounds perfect. It's just what I want. I want a lovely mix of mess where I can make shifty compromises, lie effectively to myself, present arguments I don't believe in, evade capture, and make Union Jack peanut butter cupcakes with dried fruit.

I am mish-mash. That is why I am proud to be English. British.