One of the activities at New Football last night was the chicken dance. It's a contemporary American folk dance based on the actions of a deranged and intoxicated chicken with a chili pepper stuck up its bum. The 4 of us (Harry, Ben, Bob and myself) quacked and flapped and gyrated and fell down in a prize-winning display of shameless exhibitionism. I am a nifty nipper on the dancefloor and I feel I may have just found my true calling, for I am a natural, a talent inherited from Bud. Perhaps we could all perform it at the Puddle Xmas party. Today I got in the Golden Book again for working as part of a group. But instead of putting 'Otters' for my class, the unnamed teacher has put 'Others'. So what group is that, then?
After school I phoned BensMum just when she was on the toilet and asked for my train track back. It was not possible at that time.
I finished my homework which was writing out 2 sentences from Bud (about getting a call from Ben), and solving an equation and Pythagoras for beginners from Grandad.
I wanted to do something fun in the afternoon so as Bud was off running again, Jof and I made fairy cakes. I'm sure this is for a function of some sort but we all had one so there may not be as many.
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