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Saturday, 28 May 2011
The parable of the number rocks
Last week I took my green security blanket into school for my show'n'tell item. It was made for me by Nanna when I was born and I have resisted all attempts to ditch it ever since. I get most het up when it goes for laundry because it's out of my sight. Bud says only babies have green blankets, but that's patently untrue, because I have one, right? Silly old poo. Number rocks
A many years ago, Paul and Marie (2 of their old university chums: Paul is a Londoner who once had to sell his hairdryer to raise the fare back from Amsterdam, Marie is a French girl whose Dad has a moustache wider than him; both are now teachers in Cheltenham) came down to Portsmouth to visit the old stomping grounds. During the obligatory walk on the seafront to throw stones into the sea, Paul found one with numbers in. This was slightly unusual so we kept it in the fishtank.
During my short time on this earth I have myself found a couple of these mysterious rocks and last year we found the motherlode, or at least the place they most like to gather. So obviously we filled our pockets and now use them in plant pots.
They are clearly man-made, we suspect they're clay, created in a school art room, stamped with a serial number, fired and cast into the sea to be retrieved later, demonstrating wave action in moving stones along the beach. Most are boring ovoids (made by compressing between 2 hands) but some have artwork, pencil holes, names, pictures of the rising sun and similar. However, like thousands of other inhabitants of Portsmouth no doubt, we have put the kybosh on the experiment by stealing them and using them for fishtanks and plant pots. The best examples are in the cacti pots, the rest I keep outside.
On our normal bottlebank walk, I took my gun that shoots real bullets (rubbery cylinders with a suction cup) and shot Bud successfully right in the park. He retaliated by hiring a pleasant young lady to cut my hair: she said I was so good I could choose a lollipop which I dropped on the pavement immediately.Then it was Gymnastics time. I'm improving, today it was forward rolls, squats and jumping, none of which he witnessed as he went for a 45 minute run. He did get tickets for Ben and I to go and play in the foampit during half-term week so that's good.
But afterwards we visited the swingpark right outside the Mountbatten Centre and tried out each of the red obstacles that litter the grassy area.
Later Pops came round and invited me to tea so we played lego and after much dithering dragged Bud down the park and I shot him again. I showed off my new prowess on the pole and even had another go on the hanging basket (twice in one lifetime?).
Bud went down the pub with the PuddleDaddies to watch the red people being beaten so Jof took BathFizzer Night, I made a huge potion including the lavender bath salts I was supposed to be saving for Ben.