Piracy on the high C's - an octave too far

Nobody was in. So after ringing everyone we resigned ourselves to loneliness and went for option 19 - Pirate Pete's.

We did the bottlebank walk in light drizzle and caught the bus (but not pneumonia) down to Jof's bank where I brightened her day using only 1 smile and a manic wave. We walked to Pirate Pete's via a Spar owned by several burly Lebanese gentlemen, apparently, where we bought pies and sausage rolls for sustenance. PP was its usual riot of noise, kiddies and parallel birthday parties but I didn't know anyone at all.

Eventually we went downstairs to the coin-machines where an elderly lady and I fed billions of 2ps into the moving staircase game until my lifetime's ambition (a small resin cast 3-wheeler DelBoy car) finally fell out and we returned. I actually only spent about 50p doing this, the coins kept falling out the bottom and I dutifully recycled them for ages and ages.

On the way home Bud renewed his watch battery at the horologist who charged slightly more than the watch cost in the first place. Jof had left us a freaky lifesize cardboard stand-up boy scout which has been unnerving people at the bank for too long, his eyes follow you around the room reproachfully for not doing enough for charity. We shall shoot him with the air rifle and then burn him. There may be other life-sized cardboard figurines which we should save for the PuddleFireworks.

BethsMum turned up and brought round a wallpaper stripper (I thought that was MY job) and a flatscreen, as you do. Then almost immediately Erin arrived and tried to borrow my fire engine in case her tent burnt down. I like a busy house.

Late into the night we stripped. I enjoy it plus my little fingers can get in where stubbier adult fingers cannot.