THE school emails arrived, and in the end it was all OK.

Our daughter, come September, will be a pupil of the school which is nearest to us by foot and road, and to which I will be able to walk in a few minutes in order to pick her up each afternoon come September.

After our initial concerns re our being a microscopic distance outside of its strange catchment - even though it is the main junior school for the area where we live - I became hugely less worried about it as time went on, and when the morning arrived, I felt really rather calm about her chances of becoming one of its pupils.

It felt too ludicrous to be true that, given that all of the primary-age children in our street go there, she’d be unlucky enough to be sent into the neighbouring area of town to attend what’s, sadly, a school which is markedly less successful. 

I was therefore able to reply with happy news to the several text messages which awaited me from some of the mums I know, all of whom were keen to know the news.

When talking the whole affair and its related stresses through with my parents, we remarked on how fortunate they were that they didn’t ever have to worry about this kind of scenario.

My brother and I simply went to the school in the village where we grew up, which wasn’t showy or particularly acclaimed at that point.

Even though it was just a small establishment in a working class area, it turned out to be a fantastic place in which to begin formal education.

In addition to preparing academic pupils for the Eleven Plus, it introduced music and the arts at every turn.

Whilst there, I began instruction in the flute, played two different types of recorder (one in a special recorder group), learned the handchimes, and both sang in the choir and performed in the choral speaking group in the local feis (a prestigious local competitive festival).

This was all in addition to playing short tennis after school, and weekly craft classes – well, the boys went off to do something else whilst we sat with our knitting and sewing.

House activities – we were split into Harlech, Stirling, Windsor and Dunluce, named for the main UK castles – included choral competitions alongside sporting and artistic challenges. 

Then, thanks to the great equalizing power of the Eleven Plus, which I was lucky enough to pass, I headed off to an equally ambitious and amazing grammar school.

All I want for my daughter is that her whole education is equal to, or better than, mine. Sometimes, however, I am concerned that due to lack of opportunity or availability in this area - or our finances – it’s just not going to happen.