A time of high adventure

Woke at 0900 with a song on my lips and a bladder like the Hindenburg. This is because I know that milk is good for you and so last night I tried to singlehandedly drink the 4-pinter in the fridge, making Bud have to visit Tesco in his slippers to get more. This morning a hooded top was deemed too small and went into the charity shop pile: it's labelled 2-3 years so maybe at last I'm growing. The trousers I have on right now are labelled 3-4 years so don't get your hopes up.

Job #1: go into the loft to take up all the summer toys and sand excavation toys etc. Bring down all the halloween stuff and check everything still works. Bring down cactus repotting equipment to repot the Peyotes. They are all squashed together and need bigger pots.

Job #2: gymnastics. I got gymnast of the week for the second week running, just goes to show.

Job #3: bottlebank tour. Met ex-Puddler Emma on the way to ballet lessons. Got the old favourite "6 blue eggs" bath fizzer pack from the charity shop and also a 20p bulldozer which I sang to all the way home. Popped in to see the gargling granny whose life I saved last week to make sure she was OK. She was very deaf and didn't remember me. She didn't remember last week.  

She had such a frail (if pungent) grasp on reality that we figured no solicitor is ever going to countersign the "I am of sound mind" part of any updated will we might write for her so we left her to it.



Better now, less crowded

Walked home via the football ground where we picked up a couple more cable drums for my collection.

They will be burnt on November 5th.

There are also a couple of toilets complete with wooden seats, might return later to remove them. You can never have too many toilet seats at a bonfire party.

After lunch we repotted the peyotes and I got to play with the leftover sand in the growbag tray using my new bulldozer. This is the third year running (see last year here) I've repotted them, my little fingers are just right for manipulating these sacred cacti, great training for my future role as Shaman to the world. During supper (which I helped to cook) we watched Jof's program: Strictly Let's Go Dancing Frenzy in which blokes lift up blonde bimbettes with big baps and twingly spangly costumes. I love it and will be a judge one day, handing out 10s to allcomers. Jof has trouble in that she totally fancies Robbie Savage and yet at the same time hates him. Bud practically inhaled his food in order to escape.