She Squeezed the Envelope. I’d Have Steamed It Open.

I would have had it open by the kettle.

Nikki grew up on Blue Peter and would have loved a badge. Back then, she writes, they were like gold dust, and she didn’t know anyone who had one. Forty years later she finally did: her daughter. The girl was not convinced at first, then a couple of episodes in she was hooked, and then she wanted a blue badge. She plays the piano. She sat down with blank music paper, wrote a tune, added Blue Peter words and typed her own letter of application. Nikki’s contribution, as far as the blog records, was being proud of her.

My contribution to our daughter’s application, the year Lottie was nine, was everything. I chose the subject (the school, in cereal boxes). I redesigned the subject. I rewrote her letter three times, taking out “I like it” and putting in “passionate”. By draft four the letter was in my handwriting and the model had a working drawbridge. It is in the loft. The letter is in the hall-table drawer, because it is not quite ready.

Nikki’s reply, meanwhile, came within two weeks, when the website had warned it might take up to ten. Squeeze, handbag, school run. In the car her daughter opened it and squealed. She wore the badge to school the next day, discovered that badge holders get into attractions free, and started a list. Nikki’s verdict: “it looks like we will be busy.”

Some children go further. In 2024 a junior pupil at The Abbey in Reading wrote up her collection for the school’s website: “I would proudly like to say that I have applied for 4 badges.” She got a Book, a Music and an Eco badge, and a silver one instead of the fourth. Four. Lottie has applied for none, on my advice, pending revisions.

Last week I decided to cut out the middleman and apply myself. The BBC’s page was very clear: you must be aged 5–15, with permission from a parent or guardian. I am forty-six, and my mother would want to see the drawbridge. Lottie is fourteen. She has a year left, and the letter is nearly ready.