Tuesday, 11 October 2011

Dancing to my own tune

turning old clothes into childrenMet ErinsMum after school and demanded to be invited for tea. While I was pleading my case, Erin escaped the evil clutches of her teacher and chimed in with a remarkably similar story as to how I deserved tea at her place, amazing how these unplanned off-the-cuff moment's notice surprise decisions can sound so alike. We settled for Thursday in the end. party robot capable of carrying bacardi, lit matches and candles
Afternoon jobs were preparation for the upcoming PuddleImmolation and PuddleDetonation on November 5th. We put another layer on the pinata and attached 4 gripping hands (crocodile clips etc) of various sizes to Robbie the Rocket Party Robot so he can now hold several lit tapers or other objects of interest while being his own mortar.
Crazy Crazes over the years
Today I brought back an urgent memo from the Headmistress entitled "Moshi Monster Cards". She is banning them from the school premises due to swapping-related problems in both the classrooms and the playground: she has used the C-word (confiscation) and denounces them as inappropriate.
Bud has already said that he will not buy these for me as they are a transparent ploy to hook me into buying pointless sweeties in search of the card that will never be.
In my previous incarnation as a kid in the late 70s, the craze was Smurfs. These blue people were available from the petrol station for only 49p (approx £37 in today's money) and I was allowed only one out of the vast selection. If you were prepared to pay out the equivalent of a medium-sized family saloon you could have a Smurf panorama-diorama with entire rival villages of little blue characters with names as twee as their hats.
In the incarnation before that, as an evacuee in southern Africa, I coveted the Kikuyu Tribal Chieftain figurine, lovingly hand-carved in mango wood by the itinerant and illiterate workers on a beach outside Durban ("Collect all 50 Chiefs, Sheikhs and Despotic Dictators of failed states!").
In the incarnation before that, in a barrack town in Edwardian Essex, I desperately required the lead-cast "Captain of 5th Hussars" for chewing, which I was also cruelly denied, as all lead was commandeered by the army for musket balls.
I don't have much luck, you know.

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