T he schools have been back for several weeks and everything is back in full swing. I have a full diary of events and try hard to plan in advance to make sure that I’m on top of things on both the mayoral and domestic front.

My son, on the other hand, seems to be conspiring to throw all my plans into chaos.

First, he loses his sports kit at school, then finds it again, but only after I’ve made an emergency trip with him to buy replacement rugby boots.

Two days later, I receive a plaintive call from him mid-morning. He’s left his sports kit on the bus this time. I’m about to receive a group of balalaika players from Oxford’s twin city of Perm in Russia.

I hastily ring Oxford Bus Company to see how I can retrieve the sports kit.

They tell me that it will probably be travelling back and forth between Abingdon and the John Radcliffe Hospital all day and may turn up later.

As I enjoy a private performance by the balalaika group, I wonder whether the banana which my son took as his snack will travel as many food miles to Abingdon and back as it did on its original journey from the Dominican Republic.

The balalaika group are very good indeed and I am lucky to catch them again later in the week, performing a mixture of traditional Russian music and more modern music. They include a Beatles medley, though they leave out Back in the USSR with its specific reference to balalaikas.

Another highlight of the week is the opening of the new pre-school at St Michael’s School in my ward. It’s a beautiful sunny day and lots of people are there.

The new pre-school is called the Catherine Wheel, appropriately after a much-loved nursery teacher who had worked there.

It’s one of the nicest pre-schools I’ve ever seen.

Parents whose children are now choosing A-Level options come along, which demonstrates just how long people have been working to see the project come to fruition.

I am presented with a beautiful bunch of flowers and feel a bit guilty. My only contribution to the project was to stick my hand up at an area committee and vote to give the pre-school a few thousand pounds. Other people have been working away for many years.

I return home and admire the flowers once again, now cheering up our hall.

I’m relieved too the sports kit turns up safe and well.

However, order isn’t re-established for very long and soon disaster strikes again.

My son shatters his tooth on a piece of un-popped popcorn.

The next challenge will be fitting in several dental appointments for root canal work and I wonder whether the sports kit will be left at the dentist’s.