It’s Friday morning and I’m driving my grandsons to school. Yet again. Listening to Harry Potter, narrated by Stephen Fry. Yet again. I sigh inside. Harry Potter. Unrealistic. Irreligious. A divisive influence. But you are impressed by it, aren’t you, Saffron? And so your sons have become addicted to this turgid nonsense. Despite your Oxbridge education, you don’t seem to have noticed it’s badly written. I mentioned that to you last week, on a rare occasion when you were attempting to cook, and your shoulders stiffened.

‘J.K. Rowling is brilliant. Top-end literature. So creative. So thought-provoking. If you can’t see its attraction like the rest of the world, half your brain must be missing.’

You have quite a mouth on you don’t you, Saffron? Always condescending towards me, just because you did an obscure degree at an old, rather than a new, university. By the way, I know the difference between old and new universities now. Do you remember me being belittled about that when we first met?

But despite my opinions, I am prepared to be flexible. When the children asked me to download Harry Potter to my iPhone, so that they could listen to it on the way to school, I agreed. So, unfortunately, I’m having to suffer owls and Hagrid, wizards and muggles, wands and quidditch. Stuff and nonsense that makes me want to vomit. I love my grandsons. But I do feel they miss out on so much of what matters in life, because of you, Saffron.

They need to be sent to a decent boarding school, like Aiden and Miles were. But you dug your heels in, didn’t you? Just when I had talked Miles into accepting my suggestion, you fought back. You forced him to refuse my offer to make sure both my grandsons were offered places at Charterhouse.

Instead, you have insisted that they attend local day schools. The one Harry goes to is a C of E primary, which you insist can’t be bettered for a child of his age. It isn’t even private and so I worry he’s in danger of mixing with the wrong kind of peer group.

At least before too long they’ll both be at the City of London Freemen’s – a good solid private school. But I’m only being honest when I say its name just doesn’t have the same ring to it as Charterhouse.