Flying the green flag takes the wind out of me

A DAD'S LIFE: Saving the world isn’t easy – it takes commitment, writes ADAM BROPHY

A DAD'S LIFE:Saving the world isn't easy – it takes commitment, writes ADAM BROPHY

THE SCHOOL sends out a note for “Energy Action Day”. It tells us that they are working towards their second “green flag” and want everyone to walk to school on a particular morning.

I have no idea what a green flag is, nor what the school intends to do with them when they compile a few. They may be planning on leading the children into battle with a republican cavalry charge. They may be playing castles. But the whole thing sounds eco-related, so I take the bait and let the kids know we’ll be strolling that day and they’ll need to be ready to move earlier than usual.

They’re not happy with just walking though. Those green flags aren’t earned easy. We have to make a commitment, particularly on that day, to save the world. To stop the melting of the ice caps, to halt the slaying of dolphins and polar bears, to refrain from single-handedly picking apart the ozone layer. We walk around the house and turn appliances from standby to off. I feel much better that the world is a little safer.

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As for the walk, initially they’re keen. They’re keen about everything until they have to actually hurry up. On the morning as feet are beginning to be dragged, I remind them that their friends are being dropped in to accompany them on the trip. This makes it all the more exciting. Anything done with me alone is pretty meh. Onto the friends they add the dogs. Now the excursion is me, five kids and two antisocial yappy dogs. Pinky the Polar Bear better be bloody grateful.

The school has organised that a crocodile walk will take place, starting at the far end of town so parents can deliver their precious loads to the church car park, adjacent to said starting point, in advance. I figure the drive to the church is as far as to the school itself so point their noses directly schoolwards. Onward we march.

The first fight is over who gets to hold the leads. As this is going on the dogs escape their arguing handlers and dive into traffic. I retrieve them from under a Land Rover and return to the screaming hordes, announcing a strict rotation system whereby everybody gets a hold if we all stay together.

The second fight is over whose bag is heaviest. The youngers have won the right to hold the mutts first, so the three bigger ones are at a loss as how to occupy their minds for the remainder of this 10-minute perambulation. My elder puts her bag on the ground and looks at me as if I have forced a sack of coal onto her back. Her friend gauges the weight and acknowledges it is ridiculously heavy. I shoulder it for her and they agree to share the one bag. The friend’s slightly older brother rolls his eyes and goes back to keepy-uppy with a stone. Sometimes I really would like a son.

We roll on. Small girls and dogs have meandered into a public car park in search of a short cut. One of them is attempting to climb a tree with the aim of shimmying out on a branch and dropping over a fence into an estate which will give her a cut through that could shave 10 seconds off the journey. I point out that manoeuvring brats, dogs, bags and decrepit fathers over such a route could involve injury and ultimately lateness and she slides down the trunk.

Back on the main street, the girls insist on waving outlandishly to every passing car, cursing those that don’t reply. A complicated bag swap occurs and leads are passed around. As we round the last corner we encounter the official school crocodile and another parent who thought it would be a good idea to get the dogs walked first thing.

My two mutts race for the kill and the other fella responds. It's hardly the opening battle scene in Gladiator, the protagonists are a miniature dachshund, a shih-tzu and a springer spaniel pup, but it's loud enough to stop traffic. The crocodile comes to a halt and turns to eyeball the baying hounds. I leash them back, send the kids on to join the line and retreat.

Just as I’m about to head home, my buddy wanders over. “Energy Action Day me arse,” he says. “We had to drop the kids to the church in two cars cos one of them wouldn’t get himself out of bed in time. Ah well, will we grab a coffee and a bacon roll?”

“Too right. I’m knackered.”