Donald! Where are your trousers?

Last week I got into the class golden book again for conspicuous bravery in the PE lesson or similar: I found new and interesting ways to traverse the obstacle course without touching the floor. You know where this ability comes from....my 'Tunnels' training course with Bud. "...you hang onto this birch sapling while I go round...I'll hold onto the lightning conductor, you climb up me...mind that loose brickwork...can you reach that girder without falling off the bridge...I'll stick you in through the guardhouse window, you open the gate from inside..."

When he picked me up from school Bud said hurry up because we were going somewhere as a surprise. I get extremely tearful if people don't immediately tell me the surprise so he devised a game called 20 questions for me to deduce the answer, where each question had to have a yes or no answer.

This did not exactly go to plan (here is a selection of my questions)

20 Questions!!
Is it Tunnelpark?	NO
Is it JoniBobs house or Bens' house?	X
How long will it take us to get there?	X
Is it Paultons park?	NO
Is it Wednesday?	NO
This is a hard game, isn't it?	NO
How many people will be there?	X
Do we have to go on the bus or the train?	X
When are we going?	X
When I've run out of questions, will you tell me the answer?	YES

so we just hopped on my bike and cycled to Landport Adventure playground which I reckon should be our Wednesday park meeting venue for special occasions.

The sign-in log showed I was sharing it with 72 other kids of various heights but it wasn't crowded. 

Only 1 wore the livery of my school: a lot of people were Polish.
We instantly did a climbing tour of all the old favourites but within the first minute I had fallen off something and gashed my back open. Lipsalve cured this straight away and we discovered you can traverse practically the whole park (including new constructions with slightly too many broken ropes) without touching the ground, although you do want to because of the great slides including the giant bumpy one that goes BOOM if you're heavy enough.
I wasn't.

Dressing up was all the rage and the last I saw, a stewardess from Iranian national airlines was marrying a bespectacled boy in a flowing white dress with pink stetson, the ceremony being witnessed by many princesses, air traffic controllers and boys in garish drag who sang happy birthday and god save the queen for the happy couple. The head yellowjacket says it's an OFSTED requirement to have a dressing-up box, perhaps to prepare us innocent kiddies for the nightmare of transsexuality and gender confusion that we will apparently be faced by in our adult lives.

Then I rediscovered the sandpit. We know it's deep because we dug down miles when I was 2 but today it had additional water features on many levels: a squirtling tap delivers water into one vast round steel bucket: this dribbles into a second, lower one and this flows into a brushed steel post-mortem table with exit flushing sump. I joined forces with a load of little girls (as is my way) and we processed wet sand through this massive machine to end up as a brownish slurried goo that, using watering cans, cups, caddies and buckets, we fed down some drainpipes into other pots of brownish liquid and sediment. My shoes and clothes have been sandblasted but that just makes me as happy as a sandboy. I could have stayed all night.....