THE thirteen-year-old could barely contain his excitement when he called me from his mobile phone on the bus journey home.

“Mum, a first year pupil has got swine flu. Honestly.

They’re closing school for the week.”

I should add that the girl only had mild symptoms and was recovering well at home, with only first formers who had been in close contact with her being offered anti-viral drugs.

But it wasn’t all good news for my boys. Although they were enjoying an impromptu holiday, the older ones still had to go into school to sit their GCSE and AS level exams.

“Just our luck,” they moaned, nonplussed by the fact that they were at the centre of a breaking news story, with potentially far-reaching national and international implications.

When swine flu fears first emerged in Britain and panic began to spread, I confess to, fleetingly, wondering why on earth we were letting anyone fly in from Mexico without testing them or putting them in quarantine.

Although that was when we were led to believe that, once the virus hit our shores, half the population would be wiped out in a matter of weeks. Perhaps even days. Or was it hours?

My views soon changed once I found myself on the other side of the fence. School told us students most at risk of picking up the virus were those who had at least 15 minutes face-to-face contact or had been in the same room as the infected person for an hour or more.

None of that applied to our three boys, or to the other 700 pupils outside the first year. And yet, still, these low-risk pupils were turned away from tennis lessons at a local leisure centre. Those with Saturday and evening jobs in a major supermarket were told not to come in to work – although most of them spent the week hanging around town, freely walking in and out of public places anyway.

Many of those in the lower sixth form, who had spent months organising valuable work experience – in places including village primary schools, interior design companies, even Leeds United Football Club – had their placements cancelled because employers were wary of having them in their buildings.

I even heard one mother of primary school children, who lives along the road from the boys’ school, saying she was scared to let her children out the front door.

Forget my rash plans to quarantine anyone who has been in the same country as someone with swine flu. Now I was outraged people were treating my children like lepers.

“They don’t have the plague,” I felt like saying to those who eyed them warily when they were in town.

Of course people have to be sensible.

If anyone has cold or flu symptoms, they should stay indoors. And we all have to be scrupulous about hygiene.

But let’s get things in perspective.

Ordinary, seasonal flu kills half a million people around the world in an average year. And more than a million die on the roads.

So far, most cases in Britain have been mild, the only death being that of a mother, and her newborn baby, who had underlying health problems.

Experts say 98 per cent of those infected will recover fully with no need for hospital treatment.

Our boys, who clearly had far too much time on their hands, provided us with a constant flow of local swine flu rumours from Facebook.

At one point, three other pupils were supposed to be infected. There were fears that, should more catch the virus, school might have to shut for a month. “It might not even reopen until September,” we were told, causing further panic among working parents already struggling to sort out extra childcare at short notice.

Thankfully, the reality is that no other pupil did pick up the virus, the first year student involved has made a full recovery and everyone is now back at school.

While I accept there are some fears the virus could mutate and get stronger, I am sure I am not the only one left wondering what we have all been panicking about.

MY nine-year-old nephew Robert was delighted when his mother announced he had done really well in his first piano exam.

“Did I get an extinction?” he asked.

MY sister was telling me that teenage girls can be just as bad as boys when it comes to clearing up after themselves. Her 17-year-old daughter, Jordan, who plans to go to art college in London next year, was making hard work of washing up a grill pan the other day. “How are you going to manage when you leave home and have to look after yourself?” said her mum.

“But I’m not going to do any washing up, Mum,” said Jordan.

“I’m just going to buy paper cups and plates.”