Strike 2!

Today is the second time the teachers have said they want an extra day's holiday to complain about having to go to work. So I get a free day off to go and buy an advent calendar!
Last night we saw a news broadcast about how Plymouth city centre was deserted in the run-up to christmas, with shops very quiet. Went into town with Jof and it wasn't like that at all. Every mother and her 2 screaming kids was in town, it's as if they all had a day off. Every shop had a massive queue and although M+S had reopened their new cafe, we couldn't get in it because of the massive queue. There was also a procession of protesters which made the streets very full. Eventually we gave up and got on the homeward bus. But, even as we protested about the preceding protestation, the bus couldn't go anywhere because of another enormous procession of protesters. These people had taken a random "Strike" day off work to complain about having to go to work.

The van came to pick up the cacti and they were suddenly gone from our lives. In the afternoon, Bud and I went to the park and I got extra time in the swinging rope basket because there was hardly anyone else there. We also visited a dingy off-licence called Grandee Wines directly opposite Bransbury Park and purchased 2 cans of the promised Crunk Juice (spelt Juce). It's £6 a go so we didn't get all 3. It may be rare in England but it's certainly available in the less salubrious establishments (Caveat Emporia) here in the south. Apparently the police are calling for it to be banned for making people go mad.....  Jof says it's got more additives than a whole sweet shop.

At dusk we went to football/multisports and there weren't very many of us. We did the usual tour of activities: one involved a parachute, one was get all 8 vests on your partner in 45 seconds, one was a relay race but the best was the treasure hunt. We hunted treasure while avoiding the molten lava, the swamp and the yellow hurdles which were playing the part of the electrified fence. To prove our success, we got genuine certificates with genuine errors saying "Aye! You are a true Prirate. !Huuharrr". Every time we leave Wednesday (formerly Thursday) football, they turn off the giant floodlights when we're halfway across the asphalted tennis courts and still 100 yards from the next streetlight, plunging us into complete darkness. Although I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear nothing for I have flashing LEDs in my shoes.

When we got home we found some people had woken Jof up while trying to sell her a book called Avon. I had sat down on the wet grass a lot so had wet trousers and pants: I found myself some spare troos and that is why I went commando for supper, as you do.

If at first you fail dismally

Quite a dismal day, lucky it's nice and warm in school. It was exceedingly windy and drizzly so at pickup time we went straight home with horizontal rain hitting us in the faces. I'd heard a whisper in my shell-like from a fridge'n'freezer down the Elephant about where I could lay my hands on some Crunk Juce. But it was 'orrible so it'll have to wait. It'll still be there tomorrow. Today I had a new song (with associated dance) which, like the old Skol favourite, has only one word, oft repeated - "Ally-loolia". I think it's something to do with when ErinsMum had those bad samosas.

We had a new load of cardboard so restarted the box project with high hopes and a large coffee. This time it all went to plan (the same plan, but with larger numbers) and in meedle of no time, we had it licked. Those babies could survive a short trip on a long boat, me old China. Anyhoo, here's me surfing the light fantastic on something that's got more needles than that Nicaraguan designer clothes sweatshop I worked in back in '52.

Scampi and fish tonight, I had more marine meat than anyone. But I was put off stealing Jof's broccoli stalk because she'd covered it in garlic butter. So I had Pringles instead. It's now exactly 1 month until next measuring day (hope I've grown) and therefore my 6th birthday. I can drive buses, vote on the UN security council and marry Erin and Pops at that age, right?

Resist pressure to conform to societal norms

I could barely make it home this afternoon due to being starving. At supper I said that although the pasta meal was lovely, I was full. Then I couldn't believe it when he said that I couldn't have any pudding because I was full. Doesn't he know that "Full" is a relative term and is inversely proportional to how nice the food is?

This afternoon was the climax of the cactus shipping project. The box was ready, the cacti de-potted and ready to go in. That's when we discovered there was a further 15cm of height under the gravel that hadn't been taken into consideration - you can see the lighter green bit at the bottom -  so the purpose-built bespoke shipping carton was a good 15cm too small. It was very embarrassing but not for me because it wasn't my fault. Still, groovy pictures.

Super-duper wave alert

In the morning we started work on the shipping box for the giant cacti. Because of all the castles, coffins and houses we've made out of cardboard, we're really good at it. I did measuring, he did cutting. There's even a special stiffener in the middle to stop it twisting. I wanted to get in it but I'm just the wrong shape.

After a brief supermarket-related detour, it was time for the main treat of the day - a trip to the Pyramids centre. We got to the new soft playzone at 220 and it was quiet so all 3 of us investigated the new structure. It's smaller than a lot of these places I've visited but it had all the right components and a bonus ball-blower, it can suspend 3 ballpit balls in mid air but I tried to swamp it. After a while everyone else left and we had the place to ourselves. I had invited the rest of the Piddlers but they were all busy so I had nobody to boss around. So we went downstairs and got our money's worth with a 2 hour stint in the pool. I've been doing swimming lessons so I was keen to put that into practice: I beetled around the entire complex in my rubber ring which eventually developed a puncture and had to be binned.

The green waterslide was broken but the room wasn't crowded so we queued up for the blue one and got half a dozen descents in, and 2 normal wave alerts. Eventually it was time for Super Wave Alert.

The normal waves are slow and gentle and regular, and it's suitable for all ages as long as you've got a tall person holding you up. But Super Wave Alert is different. It happens half an hour before the end. All the lifeguards come and stand around the deep end and when it starts up, it's a different shape. Instead of regular up-and-down, it goes side to side so big diamond-shaped mountains of water travel across the pool, and the waves are much bigger. The showoff teenagers gather along the side where the waves are biggest, and the best place is in the corner under the waterslide. The water has nowhere else to go apart from upwards. It means if your bikini top isn't fully secured, it can undergo catastrophic torsion failure, as some of those youths found out. I of course was still in my rubber ring so floated up with the water and was nearly ejected from the pool and over the wall. That's when the lifeguard said I had to move away from that bit. I went right back in again and cackled and hooted until the wave alert finished.

For 3 1/2 hours of watery fun my reward was Deep Blue fish and chips.

Pointing Percy at the porcelain

Had an egg and black pudding on toast for breakfast to fortify myself for gymnastics. This time there wasn't a trampolining lesson going on so we got to use them! They're very big'n'bouncy and the instructor could touch the ceiling! I could not. Next term I want to do trampolining lessons.

Tried 5 shops looking for Crunk Juce, no luck. It's seriously limited to only a few shops in the UK.
In the afternoon I stole Jof's lunch again and continued with the giant boat project. It has a cannon at one end that fires mouseballs, a painted storage locker and a smoke funnel, even though this boat is a yacht.

A streaker runs through it

Yesterday we delivered a bag of shirts to Ben. Unusual, yes, but logical. We'd bought them for a pittance at the bankruptcy firesale of High Street brand store "Woolworths" along with some shoes which I have enjoyed wearing. But the shirts are blue. I go to a yellow and green school, but Ben goes to a blue school so he now has the benefit of several starchy-collared smart shirts with extra long shirt-tails for those sticky moments.
My temporary new lunchbag (pirates) was acceptable today. I await the new ultra-mature new-new lunchbag, pirates may be out of fashion by next week.
Today I got 4/6 in the spelling test. So: not good enough, but definitely better. I have avoided the cat'o'nine tails (Sellafield special) and will only get the cane.
Today a nice lady with tattoos bought our tallest cacti for £100. We therefore have to make a box about 5 feet long for the courier. No: for the cacti. The courier will be driving the truck, he won't be in the box.
I'm sure that now his ship has come in, that giant lego set is all but mine.
Swimming was great, only 3 students today so lots of teacher-time. I learned to jump in like a banana. We were not previously aware that bananas were amphibious.

Dirty days hath November

Came home singing a new song: "Who stole the cookie". Everyone sits around in a circle; one stands up and the villagers denounce him thus: "You stole the cookie". The accused posts a plea of not guilty and makes treacherous counter-accusations against another seated member of the jury. That person is then cross-examined in similar fashion and the finger of suspicion moves around the room in a witch-hunt frenzy until the final contestant is forced to admit that they did, indeed, steal the cookie and has to repent of all his sins while undergoing terrible torture, no doubt.
They always said I was the boy that took the biscuit.
Apparently today, across the sea, the Americans are giving thanks for turkey dinosaurs.

I demanded a new lunchbag today because the current one (Handy Manny) has ... pictures for younger people on it and my peer group call me baby at lunchtime. This is intolerable.

After school he made me do spelling and the book comprehension homework about fruit skins.

Honestly, if I never see another word in my life it'll be too soon. The whole process took an hour! When he said I had to do it before any TV, I howled and bubbled and screekled like a baby. But in the end I got 5/6 on the mock test, let's see what I get tomorrow on the real one.

I've started to use mnemonics of my own, spelling queue with "Q you-ee, you-ee" a precursor to Lame Zebras Piss Down Drains, the good 'ol mnemonic for the 5 stages of meiosis prophase 1, ie Leptotene, Zygotene, Pachytene, Diplotene and Diakinesis. Ah, happy days.
When Jof got home we started the enormous boat project. Not sure yet whether it'll be an enormous boat or an enormous project comprising many boats. The egg box ("Big & British") sounds familiar. I'm sure I've seen a film like that.....

Indo-European proto-bad-language

We hear so much about an Indo-European proto-language that may have arisen in the fertile crescent of Iraq etc and formed the now genetically-ingrained base from which every language on earth evolved: support for which is the global prevalence of "Mama" and "Dada" and some very compelling corroborative evidence about perceived meanings of nonsense words the world over (eg does 'Osh' sound wet or dry, does 'Titi' sound small or big, everyone seems to give the same answer).
I posit that the ability to swear is hard-wired into us from birth. For years all the Piddlers have been calling each other Poo-heads (and I say it with venom) or stinky-pants. I myself have shown an innate ability to determine where a swear-word should fit in a sentence: its meaning, when and how to use it. Of course, there is a-hole in my vocabulary, but that'll come with time and I'll end up swearing like the rest of the troopers.
Currently I will say "Oh Fip" or "Oh Fitch" at exactly the right time: I also use experimental expletives from gobbledegook - "Fic-Fac-Foc" to elaborate constructions such as "What the FibuloGrackle is going on?" I wonder whether other Piddlers have similar slang, other obscenities and collateral curses.
In a futile rude gesture, our teachers attempt to prolong innocence: yesterday, while choosing between 2 Mr Men books, instead of a well-known rhyme, I said:

"Eeny, meeny, miney mo,

the cat has flu,

the dog has chickenpox,

I choose you!"

This draws a greater parallel to the reprehensible "Baa baa green sheep" than it does to the modern scares about cross-species pathogen transfer.

Furthermore, I opine that, as an Anglo-Saxon, I am best placed to use a plethora of profanity. Not for me the lightweight French-style front-of-mouth 'tricoter' frog in the throat or the guttural 'Untermöglich-bauhausbundschuss' of the Black Forest Ghetto. I inherit the spittle-flecked best of the best, as spread across the seven seas by the British Royal Navy, and to the very stars themselves by Hollywood.
Or maybe it's just bad parenting, letting loose their torrents of vile abuse when they think I'm not listening.

7/10 **

Needs better examples

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Doggy Tails

DylanDog (AKA DevilDog) was on thin ice at Erins'. His toilet habits meant at least 3 little brown piles of goo for ErinsDad to clean up every day. But you are what you eat: now ErinsMum has moved him onto steak and caviar like the rest of them, he's as right as rain.

Anyway, at school pickup time, it was unexpectedly book fair day so we nipped home to get all the cash we had (£4) and ran back. It turned out to be a bookshop, practically, so the cheapest was about £5. Of course I wanted the magazine with small lego monster attached but that would mean going against the saving-up-for-the-giant-lego project. I settled for a rubber hand on a stick for which Bud could think of many uses but he wouldn't tell me.

After cheese and custard it was football/mixed sporting events time. Ben and Bob and Harry and the gang played with me and I was on orange team again. Even though I was actually wearing orange, I had to have the Hi-Vis orange jacket thing which looks like a toga on me as I'm the smallest there. We all had a great time and then we did sand-skids with Johnny on the tennis court.

Sand in your pants: aggravating aggregate

Where was I in 1963 when I heard? I think I was in Covent Garden queueing up for the Beatles' second album but it was a foggy time for me. The day started well for Jof when she accidentally had 2 showers.

Straight out of school Erin couldn't come to ours because she had a Lucy but never mind. Instead we walked through a drizzly park to the Traveller's Joy Public House (deceased) and watched the un-builders walking around on the half-demolished walls.

They looked quite concerned at the way I poked my face through the fence and tried to see what they were doing, but they don't know just how qualified I am at scrambling through badlands. There was a big digger destroying the back of the expired pub and we could see the ex-staircase and the toilets, now sadly bereft of life. We wanted to ask them for the old pub sign hanging off the side of the 1 remaining outer wall but we knew that Jof would tell us off for bringing home rubbish.

Piece of local history, I'd say. In the end we left them to their un-building (when I grow up, I want to be an un-builder) and on the way back, Ben hooted at us as he drove past. I guess he was going to see the Pub-killers as well. Now it's kicked the bucket, that's a venue the PuddleDaddies won't get wobbly in again, due to it pushing up the daisies.

A stormtrooper goes to a psychiatrist.....

Rainy Monday so did the obvious thing, go to buy a laptop for Grandad. His challenge about my height is still fresh in my mind so since the end of school today I have had:
1 Jelly, 2 bowls of custard, pie & chips with broccoli + cucumber, 1 large avocado, yogurt, freedom of the chocolate box and hiccups.

Anyway, so we drove up to a well-known computer dispensary of undoubted reputation where they had the world of PCs to choose from. They had some very funny giant TVs, I liked the HDTV PVC LCD Plasma Wide Flat 3D one that was bigger than me, see the lady with the shiny ear. On one a load of soldiers were answering a call of duty of some sort and so I spent some time being a secret agent stormtrooper hiding amongst the satnavs and blank DVDs, shooting at both imaginary enemy soldiers and the idle staff members. I wanted to take the TV home but he said if I was saving up for a Lego set I couldn't lash out £1100 on a telly.

Then, duty over, I had to answer a call of nature instead. You just can't get the measure of a place unless you've crapped in the staff toilets.

In the end Bud bought a laptop with starter pack in a little suitcase. The nice young SalesGirlie let me take the little suitcase while he took the expensive bit.
Jof is buying me some new trousers online. The leg length is fine but I have to have adjustable waist ones because I have the waist of a starving lizard. And no, the lizard can't have it back.
Incidentally the San Pedro cacti auction listing (see a few days ago) has been deleted by Ebay as it is against their Naughty Things Policy. So we're stuck with them. What is the world coming to, when I get to be President of Earth I'll show them.....

50% of my genetic inheritance (not including alien DNA)

Today Grandma and Grandad drove from deepest darkest Dorset to see if I'd grown. He predicts I shall exceed his height (5 foot 1) by the time I'm 11, let's see. While they talked I repeatedly ran at the sofa and did headstands on it to gain more attention, my very own danse macabre. I didn't have to worry, though, as Grandma read me some Mr Men stories and Grandad played Ludo with me and then we had a big lunch.

They even knew where swingpark was so we all went there.

I did some climbing and played football: Grandad joined in a bit but he's even worse than Bud. The swinging basket was free so I had a go on that while they all laughed at me. Then they plotted Xmas presents, I assume I shall get the Bentley, the cricket pitch and the his'n'hers Burmese pythons as appropriate. Speaking of plotting, well-known fireworks technician Guido Fawkes went to Bud's school. Maybe that is where he gets his love of basements and bombs.
It was dark by the time they left and I think I made a reasonable impression.

This blog uses a minimum of 60% recycled words

Up at the crack of 10am as is usual for a weekend but launched straight into "Doo-doo-doo" which is my favourite song when in a hurry. While parking near the gym at Millie'n'Ruby's school, we saw a house where the people had piled up all their dead bottles and cans in the window. One of the cans was called 'Crunk Juce'. Note to self: buy some for the next PuddleParty. I assume it makes your mouth go crunk when you drink it, could be funny.

After lunch we all did the bottlebank/Tunnel park circuit: I bought a 9th-hand truck from the charity shop for 20p and we met Baby Edward taking his parents for a walk and also Charlie and Lola (Poppy's friends, not some TV cartoon characters brought to life in some kind of bizarre Red Dwarf-style transporter error). But then Jof accompanied me to the public toilets. When lifting me up to get to the all-in-one handwash station, I jumped up just when she was bending down and headbutted her in the jaw. She bit a big chunk out of her tongue and made a lot of angry yet burbly noises as she used her own blood to colour a hanky completely red. I drove my truck around the railway track while she healed.

Then he went for a run while we visited Baffins to look in the fancy dress shops. Jof bought a long blonde wig so that people would think she's clever: I guess her own hair just isn't long enough. I salivated merrily over the many costume possibilities and ended up with a red Indian suit with real authentic bow and arrow. OK, so they're not red and they're not Indian, so I suppose it's a generic standardised patronising ersatz native American costume. But I'm calling it red Indian.

Bath fizzer night was a quiet affair. I used only 7 different fizzers to make my bath purplish. My potion was: AntiRobot KillMixture: Blackberry and apple pie with secret ingredients: eyeballs, ground glass, skin, pot of poison, seaweed marinated in seawater, carrots, swimming trunks, pot of fire and 200 lids of water. I stated clearly and without encouragement that I was a double agent pretending to be on their side but secretly working against them. I'd have a promising future career in spook-ism if only I hadn't told him. Then we pinged ping-pong balls at each other to the tune of the Magnificent 7 until bedtime (I got him on the nose and in the left eye, lucky he was wearing safety specs).

Narcolepsy, a beginner's guide

Friday! This can mean only one thing. Fab Friday/GoldenTime cutting and sticking activity session! I will secretly continue work on the particle accelerator, centrifuge and fission reactor I'm making with the drawings supplied by little Abou-Ali's cousin in Iran.
It was also Pudsey day so we all wore spots and stripes and clubbed together to raise over £200 for needy children. Erin had a painted face as well and ErinsDad says she's going to have a haircut just like mine so you can see more of it. I made a Pudsey mask to hide my face but my head is so big the string doesn't reach.
Then they saw I'd got 2/6 on the weekly spelling test and the atmosphere changed, not due to my noxious bottie this time. The days of only 1 sentence a week may be over.

Swimming was successful again, but there were no cheap roses this time, just a tin of coconut milk that Jof wanted from Big Tesco, apparently.

Big family news is that Grandad (82) is going to join the online community by buying a laptop. In my most recent incarnation, I remember he had his own pet chattering telex machine in his office in a telephone exchange near Dubai. Thus he shall make the transition from telex to Wi-Fi in only one move, albeit over 30 years.

After showertime I did more Pooh-bear Super-Mario game and finally hit the sack at 1015. So, who shall train Grandad?
I'm too busy to be narcoleptic.

Casting pearls before schweinhund

I don't yet want any hores, Bud said he can't afford them anyway. On the other hand, if I had a pony, I'd just put it in my bank account.
After school we played football in the park again: multi-discipline games like Wednesday football with chasing, throwing, tickling and falling over.
I also had homework. I have to write out a sentence every week, it's inhumane and why am I the only one that has to do it? Also, why do I have to wait until suppertime for food? And why do they complain if I don't eat it all? Have spent much time today sulking over these and other injustices.

This statement is not true

Wednesday again and another joyous opportunity to play football and similar games in the dark.
Incidentally, should any PuddleParent visit isolated coastal village Chichester, I suggest you make a detour to the West Cornwall Pasty Company outlet at 27 North St. They are pirate-obsessed and even have bottles of water called "Pirate water" (passed only by the best pirates) so xmas presents etc may be available for any short people who like crusty old sea dogs, arrrgh.
Today was day of forgetfulness, I think.

1. Forgot it was hot lunch day so forgot to pay. Subsisted on leftover crusts I scavenged and gleaned from the canteen. This is because it was on the wrong day so I was not pre-programmed to eat hot lunch. That's why I had a scotch egg, yogurt and pie this afternoon.

2. The teacher forgot to send me to my school council meeting. Actually, that's ok because I'd forgotten my council member's badge and I refuse to attend official functions without proper regalia.

3. I had forgotten it was football day not swimming day so duly presented myself to Bud bereft of panties in order to receive the holy swimming trunks to save time getting ready for the lesson. He looked at me in a funny way.

There may be more

Of that I'm sure

But all the rest eludes me.

 Football was excellent again, we did circuits and bumps (not talking about the tutors who were fair of mug and bod, and young with it) and a lot of it was throwing a tennis ball against the stumps. I lost that game but was victorious in many others, allegedly.

Later I tried on my spotty T-shirt for Pudsey day, I haven't got Rigellian fever, it's just spots, honest.

Cheese selection (Fromage Rummage)

Cold and windy day so I made the obvious choice - crazy golf on the pier. We drove down and started the course but soon enough Jof got cold and we cherry-picked the best ones only. Several of the holes previously designated "Impossible" fell to our skilful moves. Problem was, it's extremely exposed standing on a concrete and metal pier sticking way out to sea with nothing stopping the howling wind but your gloves (if you remembered to bring any).

While we were there, a small group of Students-Of-All-Nations™ walked right to the end (where even the fishermen had thought better of it and were absent) and stood there getting blasted by the arctic gales: they then realised that their mummies weren't going to bring them coats so ran home again.

Eventually we retired to the penny arcade to warm up again and spent only £1 before leaving for a warm car and house.

The giant cacti are now so big they have to go. They're now on Ebay so if you want enough mescaline to start a small war, better get to it.

Get back in the chiller cabinet, man

So. In the last week since this referral spam thing broke, the Google statistics for "Referring URLs" for my blog show that 75% of hits were from spam sites. But the silver lining is well over a thousand extra visitors reading my rant on the menace of spam. Many have left comments saying thanks, which is nice, and one chap laughed so much he has become a follower. Welcome, Angelo.
So you get worried, then you get angry. Then you think "Well, as long as I ignore them, it won't be a problem. Might as well chill, man".

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Yesterday in California, a sealed abandoned bank storage locker was auctioned off as part of TV reality show "Storage Wars". The successful bid was $1000. Once the winner opened it up, they found a 200 year-old chest containing $500K of Spanish gold coins from the 16th - 19th centuries, including doubloons. I guess there are some very angry pirates out there going "Arrrr, so that's where we left it, bulwaaarrrks to everything....."

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Monday. Cold. Tonight we all went back to school for meet-the-teacher time and I showed them my work books and all the pictures on the wall. The teacher says I'm wonderful (I don't pay her for nothing, you know) and that I'm in the top streams for maths and reading/writing.

A great day to be alive

Strolled out of bed at 10am. I hadn't even done my teeth when Poppy came round to eat brioche and play iumping with me. I iumped so hard I hurt my neck. She stayed with me until it was her lunchtime.

You know when you drop toast, it always lands butter side down? Well, when Jof dropped her lunchtime cheese on toast she also knew this would happen. So she caught it before it hit the floor: unfortunately freshly grilled bubbling cheese can be hot so she has a burnt hand. He decided to do his first 10-mile run (1 hour 31 mins) so now has hurty legs. So we all need pink medicine.

The best way to chase away those pink medicine blues is to go and play football in the park.

We all took turns being in goal and messed about lots. On the way back to the car we met ginger Lenny from Wednesday football who was also happy it was back on.

 While Jof walked home we pushed on to Fort Cumberland and threw rocks and investigated the much changed shoreline in increasingly dusky conditions. The storms of a couple of weeks ago had moved all the big rocks around, piled up the anti-tank defences and moved a grillion tons of shingle from one end of the beach to the other. We did our civic duty and threw as much of it back as we could until it got dark. We have earned sofatime.

Movin' up, movin' on

I have moved on to the adult cutlery we brought out for the Puddle Bonfire party. This means I can ditch the kiddie cutlery I've been using (not including my favourites - my fingers). Some will go to the charity shop, some will be kept for picnics, and the special ones engraved with my name will go into the "Keeping it for my own kid" box in the loft. We don't know who gave me the engraved cutlery. I also don't know when I'll have a kid of my own, let's hope it's in at least 20 years.

Gymnastics was great as usual, but with a locum teacher and her flexible friend who was something for the daddies to look at, I suppose.

Jof was going to an opticians appointment so we hitched a ride and trailed round all the charity shops looking for bath fizzers. It's always the same, 5 have nothing but then #6 has 3 packets and a single - so we ended up with 19 fizzers in one place. Then we met Jof for lunch in Knight & Lee. They're very nice in there and the food is great but they're very slow.

When we left the restaurant we ran straight into the Bens which made our day. He had £20 or so of pocket money to spend so was examining all the lego sets. I helped him fail to decide which meant I could choose one for myself as well: we were nearly as slow as the restaurant staff but finally we decided: he got a couple of green warriors of some sort and I got a camper van.
On returning home, we decided to do another massive tower of lego. We did one last year and it was almost taller than me. Since then, I have acquired many more bits of lego so you'd think this tower would be taller. But no, it is of solid construction and thus wider. He's left me many balconies and gantries and sticky-out bits to put on all those strangely-shaped pieces that you accumulate. It took him about 3 hours and now it's beer time so he's left me do do all the interesting work. I've already installed an evilness radar, "Scanning for Evil, Captain".

Angry Arab = Raudi Saudi?

More to add to the collection of unwanted guests - postring.tk and massprofits.tk and lethalcomission.tk and profitsites.tk

See referral spam post a few days ago and new page on the right.

I shall have to instruct my solicitors Slingsby, Potter Prunt, Trenchfoot and Ottercleebidge to start proceedings if I get a case of Clostridium extremelydifficile from any of these spam sites.

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Friday! Not that Fridays are particularly important for me, life's just one long holiday of delight.....I have Great-Grandad the Colonel to thank for that. Speaking of which, his uniform is still in the loft. When I reach 5 feet tall, I've got a class A fancy dress uniform lined up....

Here is me with my newest creations. One is a submarine, see its double bottle engines and toilet roll periscope. The tall one is a Hudson river rubbish barge with smokestack in action and foghorn cunningly fashioned from an eggbox. And I must mention the new earmuffs purchased by Jof for only £2 as requested. They're very comfortable.
So we nipped down to the park to play football for a while. As we stood at the lights with a yummy mummy and her little kid who must be a Puddleduckian, a man came steaming too fast round the corner on his bike. He did a creditable emergency stop, his brakes made a great screek noise and he went over his handlebars and crumped on the ground, hitting nobody. He landed on his shopping and the big pot of cream in the Tesco bag started leaking. He was very embarrassed and strode off refusing all offers of help, leaving a wide trail of creamy drips along the pavement. In the park, I wowed them with my new talents acquired from Thursday football. I can kick it straight and a long way as well.
While I was at my swimming lesson, Bud wandered unheeded through the city centre and a man shouted at him: "Luvverly buncha roses, Ooo wantser bucketa roses, only 3 quid". He thought this was a good idea and even got the bucket free, I shall use it next year for sandcastles for it is ideally sized. On the way home we devised our plan to spread the lurve. Every PuddleMummy was to get a bunch, I was to get practice giving flowers to girlies and Bud gets to leer on my behalf. We did a circuit of the Puddle houses and it all worked out perfectly apart from that hardly anyone was in because it was Beer O'clock. This was a slight fly in the ointment but we felt we had done our manly duty. I said they'd be confused when they got home to find roses on the doorstep but Jof said that any confusion would make them think of us, because confusion always starts with an M. I did get a bit of a fumble from ErinsMum but I was shy of Poppy, hopefully I'll get over that and learn to press home my advantage.
After my shower I put on my new pyjamas (bright orange trousers and camouflage top - slight mismatch) and played a game not unlike supermario but with poobear getting honey and avoiding bees.