Twenty tricky teenagers

My must-see TV of the week is Channel 4’s Jamie’s Dream School – the series where Jamie Oliver gets a host of celebrities to teach 20 tricky teenagers who’ve left school with barely any qualifications.

The science teacher is fertility expert Lord Winston (who’s already hit the headlines for getting the boys in the class to study their own sperm). History is taught by Dr David Starkey, politics by spin doctor Alastair Campbell, drama by Simon Callow, music by Jazzie B (the best teacher by a mile, I reckon), art by Rolf Harris and maths by economist Alvin Hall. Other experts helping out include barrister Cherie Booth, sailor Ellen MacArthur, rapper Tinchy Stryder and former poet laureate Sir Andrew Motion.

Over two months the teachers have attempted to inspire the 16 to 18 year olds and (hopefully) persuade them to return to education. On the whole, the celebs have been utterly useless, especially the ones who blithely assumed they could stand at the front, talk about themselves and instantly command the students’ attention. They couldn’t of course. Most lessons have seen pupils walking out, yelling at the teacher, even picking fights.

The truth is, as the celebs have discovered to their cost, that teaching is an awful lot harder than it looks. I’m speaking from experience on this one. I tried my hand at teaching the same age group a few years ago and it’s one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.

Looking back, I’m not sure I taught my lot very much at all. One girl fell asleep every lesson, a boy whizzed his skateboard along the classroom floor, others chatted and texted pals when I wasn’t looking and as for handing their work on time – sorry, it rarely happened.

Now Jamie has experienced what life in the 21st century classroom is really like he’s been quick to praise the teachers who do it day in day out. “I have to say that I’ve never admired teachers more than I do now,” he said. “Until you’ve tried it, you can’t possibly know what it’s like standing in front of a group of young people who aren’t interested in what you’re saying.”

If only a few of our politicians would give it a go too.

A brilliantly-written love story

“If you’re after a brilliantly-written love story that never slides into sentimentality, David Nicholls’s One Day is just the ticket. Nicholls trained as an actor before switching to writing - his first novel, Starter for Ten, was made into a film starring James McAvoy and Rebecca Hall and he wrote the recent TV adaptation of Tess of the D’Urbervilles. His third novel is a funny ‘“will they, won’t they?’” romance tracing the relationship between university friends Emma Morley and Dexter Mayhew on the same day each year for 20 years. I read this book in one delicious go and it did everything a novel should do. It made me laugh, it made me cry and it made me think. Don’t miss it.”

That’s what I wrote when I reviewed the hardback of One Day soon after it was published in 2009 – and I stand by every word. In the intervening years, the book has become a bestseller, largely through word of mouth. It’s sold 650,000 copies in the UK alone, been translated into 37 languages and the film version, adapted by Nicholls himself and starring Anne Hathaway (some One Day devotees aren’t convinced by her casting as the awkward, insecure Emma) and Jim Sturgess, is due out in the autumn.

In a giant, wind-buffeted marquee at the Oxford Literary Festival this week David Nicholls told a packed audience how he came to write One Day. He attended the same sixth form college as Colin Firth before going on to study English and drama at Bristol University. After eight years in the theatre, largely, he said, working as an understudy, he switched to writing screenplays and novels. Modest and self-deprecating, he claimed he wasn’t sure if “I gave up acting or it gave me up” and that the success of One Day, his third book, had come as a “huge surprise.” He found inspiration, he revealed, in a passage from Tess of the D'Urbervilles, an interest in looking at the way our lives change between the ages of 20 and 40 and a determination to write a "different" kind of love story.

More recently he’s been writing a screenplay of Great Expectations, his favourite novel, but he’s now begun to work on ideas for his eagerly-awaited fourth book. I, like thousands of other One Day fans, can’t wait.

Behind the black door

As book clubs go, Grazia’s must be one of the starriest. The event, held at Waterstone's in Piccadilly, boasts champagne, cup cakes, goody bags and celebrity guests.

When Emma Freud interviewed Sarah Brown about her newly-published Behind the Black Door this month, the audience included the likes of actor Bill Nighy, Four Weddings and a Funeral creator Richard Curtis and Grazia editor Jane Bruton. I was mesmerised by Nighy, chic in his thick-rimmed black specs and far taller than I expected, while my teenage daughter only had eyes for Jane Bruton’s sky-high leopard-print heels.

Many of Sarah Brown’s revelations – from how she got a rabbit belonging to the children’s entertainer she booked for her son Fraser’s birthday party into Number 10 without having to go through the security scanners to her wry comment that it didn’t really matter what she wore when she stood next to supermodel Carla Bruni - have been widely reported already. But it was fascinating to hear her talk about the book – and hard to believe that she used to be terrified of public speaking. Consummate PR professional that she is (she ran her own PR outfit for years before marrying Gordon), she came across as cool, unflappable and ultra-discreet. The sort of best friend we'd all like to have really.

Tall and statuesque in a stylish brown dress, she admitted she’s not a “shout-ty” person, that her favourite book is Kamila Shamsie’s Burnt Shadows, her favourite film The Social Network and her guilty pleasures “a glass of wine, chocolate and Glee.” Oh, and I’m not sure how convincing this is, but her favourite rapper is P. Diddy!

Behind the Black Door is published by Ebury Press, price £18.99.

White hyacinths and pink tulips

Walking past the florist’s shop at this time of year makes me sad. They’re getting ready for Mother’s Day and the pavement outside is filled with baskets of fragrant white hyacinths and delicate pink tulips that are still in bud.

Mother’s Day is bitter-sweet these days. I long to send my mum flowers wrapped in brown paper and tied with ribbon, fix lunch and catch up with all the gossip over a glass of champagne. But she died nearly seven years ago and instead of dwelling on what might have been I’m going to make the most of being with Lottie and Ned, my lovely teenage children.

The trouble is that even though she’s not here I still want to tell my mum everything. She’d be enthralled to hear I’ve recklessly bought a tumbledown farmhouse in the south of France. And she’d be appalled that it’s damp, derelict and only has half a roof. She’d be staggered by how tall Ned’s grown and how scary he is when he’s whizzing down hills at full pelt on his bike. She’d be so proud of Lottie’s place at university and fierce independence.

My grandmother died at the age of 62 and after that my mum always dreaded Mother’s Day. One year she wrote in her newspaper column: “Don’t say it’s sentimental rubbish, emotional blackmail, commercial exploitation and that your mother knows you love her anyway. I’m sure she does, but the joy she’ll get from a tangible expression of your feelings is more than worth the effort. There were times when I forgot to mark the day for my brilliant mother and what I’d give now to be able to send her flowers by the lorry load.”

As always she was completely right. So today I'm thinking about her and remembering all the wonderful times we had...