Flatulence and I: beans there, dung that

Let the bottie-trumpets ring out for the holidays! 17 days off!

I had security issues following school - he wasn't allowed to look in my book bag where I'd secreted the christmas cards I'd written. But that was all forgotten as soon as we got home. I have some new camouflage booties that'll go well with the similarly coloured hat and greatcoat: I predict a lot of pictures of bushes and a game of spot the Mungleton.

Swimming was the last of the term so after a bit of actual training, we jumped into the deep end and were ferried around on a purple and yellow floaty-mat (our survival raft) and we had to hold on for dear life while the teacher whizzed us up and down. Meanwhile he was in the post office undelivered parcels queue for 25 minutes during which time he hardly moved at all so he'll have to try again next week to get MY parcel. On the way home he took me to LIDL so I could buy more chocolate: while I was doing that I allowed him to buy some beer and wine.

Jof needed picking up from work so she didn't freeze to death waiting for a bus, then she got changed and put on lots of funny facepaint and went right out again for a works party.

Here is my angel for the christmas tree, clearly made with handprints. I believe it to be one of Mrs Hand's 5 lovely daughters.
Last thing at night: I read a Mr Men book all on my own while he was doing the washing up. This is the chortle portal to a lifetime of self-education. Pass the New Scientist, please.