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Monday, 9 July 2012
New Deal; Hard Labour
Following my recent displays of lip, attitude, civil disobedience and rebellion, I begin a new and repressive regimen today. Rocks for breaking were not available at such short notice and the chain gang is on order, but we will start with minimal TV rights, use of the dining table for its true purpose and a fast track to the loft for Lego Heroes etc in case of infraction.
Day 1. Brought back a lovingly handcrafted letter reading thus: Dear Bud, please can you cum to our supErHEro picnic. It's at 1.30 pm but you nede to mete us at school. Please can you bring sum healthy food. you nede superhero atfits. dont take wo gronups Please. We will make food at scool. Love From MAX M
In other news, on next Monday (Olympic torch day) I'm to be dropped off at school at 0615 and the teachers will take us from there. Thus I am now undergoing a crash course in photography so that I may record the event in my own way. I wandered the house taking snaps of walls etc but the only one I'm willing to keep is this rather touching self-portrait.
I had supper #1 at 5pm, amazingly, I ate all of it in only 3 minutes because I was in the dining room with only a potted coffee tree to look at, rather than the polychrome metronome they call "TV". We returned to school so the Bud and teacher could talk about me behind my back: apparently my new change in attitude has been noticed. Not against the teaching staff, though, just not taking any poo from my friends, with whom I'm engaged in a power-struggle to determine Leader. I offer this mural we've done of the teachers, looks like some kind of hideous before-and-after advert for laser eye treatment, vodka or plastic surgery. Then we had 20 minutes in the park before Beavers. At Beavers, we went straight back to the swingpark.
At the end was a ceremony for Lewis who had won the special medal. But Bear Grylls was late and one of the helpers tried desperately to keep us under control by reading a story. Eventually a special envoy arrived: Mr Bear was stuck fighting weewee-stealing vampires in a volcano in Peru so couldn't attend in person. Lewis had averted a fatal house fire when his kid sister knocked the candle over and his Mum was hoovering upstairs, so he got a gold medal and a yellow-stained letter from Mr Grylls himself for doing the right thing and not panicking.
Then the Envoy man said we had to do the ceremony again when the photographer from the News arrived so we sang campfire songs while we waited. I kid you not, there was Hands Knees'n'toes, the Menu Song and something in Klingon (not Kumbaya, but directly equivalent). But then word came through that the Police had found some more bits of dead body on the seafront just where we had been looking last week and so the photographer would be even later. We bailed at that point and made it home 50 minutes later than usual, for supper #2 and bed. Jof has a big cold.