Proposal: an extra day

I have commanded a bonus day. Thus today nobody is getting any older. However, there is the danger of amorous advances from females: follower Martin has fallen foul of this and has agreed to marry Zoe the Girlfriend when she asked early this morning when his defences were down. Considering only yesterday I played "Husband and Wife" in my secluded den with 2 of my girlfriends - maybe I got off lightly.

I got yet another sticker at school today - for attentiveness. On the way back we walked with Harrison (ex-Puddler 1 year below me) and his escort Sadie, who all the PuddleDaddies will remember fondly. The PuddleMummies will enjoy hearing that she has filled out somewhat.

But then it was gogogo as we drove into town to finally invest the £1500 from Blind Uncle Len in a tax-free bond. While my future was being planned, I took some flyers from the display (they have wisely chosen not to use a freaky boy scout display unit), filled out the application form for house insurance and drew moustaches and head-aliens on the ladies in the pamphlets. Then we hastened home for a belated Wednesday park. I hopped out of the car to take some wood from the same place as we got the cupboard last week: the owner was very happy for us to take it away and was pleased that the Mystery Of The Disappearing Cupboard had been solved. I knew there wouldn't be any Puddlers in the park but I played with Brandon the Pugilist until the giant gobstopper he threw into a tree came back down and hit me on the head.

Grandad had given me some more homework which was all about coins and how to make up an amount in more than one way. Funnily enough, I found it easy.

Breakthru

Last night at showertime I finally achieved Purple Sausage Breakthrough. This is a pivotal moment in the life of every man, as only us chaps can fully appreciate. I know that Ben was way ahead of me on this, having surprised his Grandma at the dinner table a year and a half ago (see his Mums' reaction) by showing it off. When Jof came to say goodnight I told her I wanted to show her something new I can do with my willy, but she refused to turn the light back on and said I was procrastinating. I'm sure that's not the word. Maybe I'll show Erin when she comes round this afternoon, we've been working up to that anyway.

In fact, given that this came a single day after my first wobbly tooth, perhaps old age is catching up with me. All I have to look forward to is urges, sproutages and, subsequently, mortgages.

Yup. Erin had barely got the train track out when I got mine out and showed her my new trick. She was intrigued and asked for a repeat performance.

We left the track scattered everywhere and moved onto dens, reusing any stray items such as blankets and pillows and did roleplay in which my title was Sergeant Nipple and she was Mrs Nipple, which is a bit limiting for a future Prime Minister.

But then BensMum phoned from the park to say where was I and off we all went. The mummies sat and talked while we chased and were chased, until Ben noticed an empty basket alert. We piled in and were swinging noisily when the trouble started. They were screaming so much I couldn't do my joke about how my bottom was going to vomit, so I howled. After a restart, we all shuffled about so much that my bottom hurt, Erin said her foofoo hurt and Ben accidentally kicked me in the face but then got sad that we left him alone so all 3 of us were howling.

Chocolate cured all and we were by the little hill when the JBs arrived and the 4 usual suspects started playing Lego Hero attack, leaving Erin with Bud. When she got terminal bladder distension we were forced to go, which suited ErinsMum and then Erin could finish her Wales flag at our place. But on the pavement outside was a Pops, who'd seen us from the car and so she slid directly into Erins' place in the den and as soon as wife #1 had gone (Mrs Nipple), Pops and I were married and denning it up. My job seemed to be either sleeping with her, eating her many breakfasts or going to work. She played the role of housewife, which is a bit limiting for a supermodel.

And every night she got fraught that I wasn't home early enough because I was spending too much time in the pub. They say the future is not set but our lives seem to be mapped out already, where do we get these stereotypes from?

This makes for practically a full Puddle house today, lucky me. Later I played hangman with Jof but my spelling's a little variable so there may have been some miscarriages of justice.

Dental derangement

Last night I detected my first wobbly tooth, upper right incisor. Given that Pops lost a tooth last week, does this not make me the last Piddler to be a gap-toothed gargoyle? Erin and Johnny managed it last academic year and I'm just glad to join in.
This afternoon Jof had got an early pass and wanted quiet time with the cricket so we zoomed off the the seafront to investigate Southsea Skate Park. We'd seen it on Saturday and it looks great for scooting and cycling, all the way from those baby 3-wheeled scooter-lets to the big bike jumps. It was closed. I guess they have limited opening times in the winter. So we wandered along to the bank to ask why the investment I made a month ago still hasn't been opened. I suppose that's where the fatcat bonuses come from.
Having practiced this weeks' spelling (gymnastics, wouldn't, shoulder etc) I scooted to Beavers where we did "Stranger Danger". At the end we sat on the back stairs and did a questionnaire:

1.  You are at school and somebody hits you. What do you do?
2.   You are playing in the park and you discover that you cannot see your parents. What do you do?
3.   You are playing on the computer and a popup appears saying you have won a prize. What do you do?
4.  You are playing outside and a man you don't know walks over and says your mother has asked him to collect you. Do you go with him?
5.  You are in the newsagents and a friend asks you to take sweets without paying. Do you?
6.  You are in the supermarket but lose your Mum. Who can you ask to help you?

Young, Dumb and full of youthful exuberance

It took me ages to clear up the den mess we'd made yesterday. Then, just when I thought I could relax, PopsDad brought round a broken cupboard and a huge pile of branches, to save him a second trip to the tip. So I chopped all the branches with my giant "Fiskars" chopper so they could all fit into the drying-out house.

Then BensDad summoned us to the bouncy paths on the common for biking. We were in such a rush to leave I forgot to have lunch.

Beth and Ben were already at the seaside when we got there and soon enough we started digging for treasure in amongst the giant blocks of concrete and brick that make up the sea defences.  

 We did our bit for coastal erosion by finding such delights as "Small piece of broken plate", "Area of blackened earth" and the all-time favourite "Plastic bottle-cork inscribed Gosport". Then we cycled to the soldiers' memorial and on to Bens' house as Beth was getting cold. She also fell onto the pavement nose first which didn't help. We settled down to play lego hero rebuild and attack, which did leave Beth out a bit. Jof took over duties from Bud and when going home was mooted, we played junior scrabble and are already devious challengers. Ben and I could probably play together for 6 weeks straight without getting bored.

Bensun Burner

'Twas a day like any other Saturday. Jof phoned to say her parking had run out so quick as a flash we hopped on a bus and moved it, taking only an hour to get there. While at the bus stop, an old lady gave me a sweet: I elected to give it to Ben who was to be our visitor later.

As it was such a lovely day we walked to the seafront having bought exactly the same meal deal (Tuna sweetcorn sandwich/crisps/drink) as I had last time. I climbed on all the tanks and the anti-aircraft gun and fed the sandwich crusts to the ornamental carp in the pond by the D-Day museum.

Henry 8ths castle was closed so I invaded the moat and tried to circumnavigate the whole edifice, but the roof on the bombproof tunnel was too slippery and I couldn't climb it.

We left 3 Speaking Number rocks for people to find and then scrambled around on the shore to pick up some shells and even more number rocks.

Having told Jof where we'd parked the car (we got the road name wrong, so that resulted in an angry phone call later) we bussed home. Ben arrived once the football had started and we got on with the planned activity which was making a giant wooden train track. This branched out into lego and lego hero-making which meant we could scatter more stuff all over the floor.

Then it was bonfire time. We'd been collecting bits of cupboard and so forth so we had a fair amount to incinerate: the Xmas tree was dry and crackled really loudly when we threw bits on. 

The box of giant tubes from Buds' work turned out to be very useful: you can play light sabre attack, stick Xmas tree twigs in the end and burn them, in no particular order. Jof joined in by mixing various household chemicals (such as ant powder and sugar) with Sambuca and filling individual cupcake wrappers with her experimental fireworks. She looked online to find what would work the best but in my opinion real fireworks are better. We wonder whether Google have sent her details to the police for searching "homemade bomb" or similar.

The biggest box was very resilient and we had to use the pickaxe head to kill it: we read the weather forecast from inside the big drawer from the cupboard. Eventually everything was burnt and we headed back inside, our fiery work done.

We set about drawing our lego heroes and making a den under the dining table using everything in the room that wasn't nailed down. When Bud said it was time for Ben to go and me to have a bath, I stripped off and ran around the house naked. Ben chased me and smacked my bottom, for that is what you do when faced with a naked giggling man.

Back in black and marching forth

Happy Friday! I got 6/6 on the spelling again so yah boo sucks. (Who is this Yah Boo person anyway?) This means more £££ in my lego track savings plan piggy bank which has since been renamed the lego yellow lorry savings plan.
Victory in swimming! I have been promoted. I am now officially the wearer of the orange hat (second class) so in a touching ceremony I handed back the red hat of beginnership (and the spare one we found in the changing room one day so we wouldn't get charged £1 if we lost the first one) and the receptionist gave me 2 orange hats, thus legitimizing the finders keepers hat.

As a direct reward (maybe) I got to go to the pub this evening.

All us PuddleKids love to go to the pub, especially our favourite hostelry just the other side of swingpark.

 This has led to some questionable comments from all of us in school: "I love to go to the pub/going to the pub is my favourite thing/Yay it's Friday, we can go to the pub" etc.

I scooted there which gave me tired legs. All the boys were there as was Erin, who felt a little left out of our manly games until we crowned her Queen Of Us and we all climbed on the shed roof by using the metal gate with footholds.

The roof is a little bouncy when 2 or 3 of us jump up and down on it but don't let the rotted shed door fool you, it's as sound as a pound.

This was going really well and nobody had fallen off and broken their bones but then the pub landlord came out and said if we ever got on there again, we'd all be barred. It comes to something when you get barred from the pub when you're only 6.

We found solace in making dens with the broken slide under the pirate ship. The big plastic bits don't balance very well so they did slide around a lot and crush fingers and bang heads so at one point 3 of us were howling, but we worked it out and the adults managed to get 3 pints in before time was called.

On the money but off the rails

Straight out of school I left with Erin in blazing sunshine to visit the graveyard even though the rest of the school were sure to be in swingpark. It's quite near her house and she likes to feed the squirrels: Squiggles are nut-nibblers and the last time I met them they took my nuts right out of my hand.
However we never made it. We played Mums and Dads with one of her dolls, visited the garden centre and bought compost and pansies, and then potted some up for our house. I couldn't carry them home on the scooter so they'll be delivered tomorrow.
We had supper and played dens under the dining table. But then Erin asked me to do something I couldn't, she kicked the wall of bogrolls down and got told off.
So the promised picture of us pulling faces is unavailable because she was hiding in the den, which is what they're for, to be fair.
I scooted home after a great time with them and will get her back on Tuesday. A visit, I mean, not revenge.
Last chance to learn my new spelling words before the Friday test. Again, there are ... sticking points. Here is my progress over the week: my persistent and consistent adherence to phonetic spellings is due to the teaching of "Phonics", apparently, and means that I can't spell a thing.

GNOME	gnome	gnome	gnome	gnome	gnome	hnome
DESIGN	dosine	design	desine	design	desin	desine
KNIGHT	gnite	knite	knite	knite	knite	knite
KNIFE	gnife	knife	nife	knife	knife	hnife
WRITTEN	ritogn	rittn	rittn	written	writen	ritten
THUMB	thum	thumb	thum	thumd	thumb	thumd

In addition, I have elected to give up oranges for lent. This despite our household's militant atheism: however as my annual intake of oranges is approx 1, it won't be a problem.

Left of centre but right all along

A race between the rainclouds and the clock. Will we get any Wednesday park done before the heavens open?

No. It was raining at pickup time so we invited the JBs for lego and went home. We picked up the last bits of the cupboard that builderman up the road had kindly left outside for us and destroyed it into the wendy-house for a bonfire this weekend. I hope it's stopped raining by then.

That would enable us to get rid of the cardboard and the BensDad memorial Xmas tree which is still in dry storage.

After supper we made pancakes. My job was to get in the way with my little stool that I use to see onto the cooker or work surface, whatever is the busiest area. However many times I turned the gas up or down, poked the empty eggshell or shouted that the pan wasn't smoking yet, I always seemed to get it a bit wrong.

Jof melted some chocolate and daubed it onto the first rolled-up pancake. For some reason it reminded me of having my nappy changed. Even with choc sauce, I didn't like it. Bud made another one and added the traditional sugar and lemon juice. I said that they were all delicious but I didn't like them.
Then I killed her within 2 goes. She had to sell her last 2 properties and it still wasn't enough to pay me. I ended up with £9088. The box says that Monopoly is suitable for ages 8-adult. Shame it's unsuitable for me, I keep beating everyone.

In the pink but out to lunch

All day yesterday at school, Erin and I planned to ask to come back to my house afterwards. Then, right at the last minute, she ran up to her mum and asked if Lucy could go back to hers: they left hand in hand.

Extra park day: a rebound date with Ben.

We had balls of different sizes so played a bit of football but mostly the throwing them over the fence game or throwing them up into the tree game. It was quite cold but we stayed out for an hour.

Jof had a surprise awards ceremony to go to tonight so maybe she'll come back with a prize or sticker for being the best behaved worker. She has bought pancake ingredients but we'll have to do that tomorrow.

Down in flames but up in smoke

Back to school and another set of spelling words to learn.

I shall log my progress here once more as it is a particularly fiendish set.

Looks like many other parents have decided to "help" their offspring with the rocket project. Mine is not the tallest, and one has side-boosters like a Saturn V, but mine is the only one with guidance fins (V2-style), window and resident alien. So I'm still in with a chance.

At Beavers today Rotund Archie challenged Bud to a handicap race: Bud picked me up under one arm and rugbied me up and down the church hall. It was a dead heat which only goes to show. During the session we did road safety training: I was chosen to wear the hi-vis jacket and they shone torches at me to show the others the way. This may contribute towards my first earned badge. The cubs (occupying the other end of the hall) are doing Epileptic Fit training so our end-of-session prayer was very noisy and yet comical as they all fell down and gyrated vigorously.

I got the special award scarf for being the best behaved Beaver. The cream rises.
Before and after supper Jof and I lock horns over the Monopoly board: she will not last long.

RANT

So I'd drunk my bedtime milk and was doing my teeth before going to bed. It was for the second time because he spotted my lie when I said I'd done them properly the first time, so I was in a huff to start with. Then in he comes to have his shower, puts his towel down and switches the shower on. Of late, he has started to do a few pressups before his shower: all exercise is admirable and apparently he wishes to emerge from the sea like Meester Bond, and yet look better than BensDad did last year (or is it to compensate because we're all getting bigger). So he starts, er, pressing. He balances his feet on the box we keep the towels in and puts his hands on the side of the bath so he's 2 feet off the ground and thus not putting his nose in the dust-bunnies.
So I'm sharing the room with a naked man going to have his shower. This is not remotely unusual: I have been showering all my life and am always naked, apart from in the public showers after swimming at the Pyramids Centre. But he is in a uniquely vulnerable position and my little mind starts working.
I remember all the times that ErinsDad had pretended to pull up my coat zip and then pinged me on the nose when I look down. I remember all the times Jof has said Oi look out of the window, and then she hath stolen some of my chips. I remember the times JoniBobsDad has sent me down to ships' stores for a Long Weight, when BensMum laughed at me for walking into that girder, and all the times Bud has been unspeakably horrid to me. I think of sweet revenge.
So I run over and go dingdingding on his willy.
Of course he instantly collapses to the floor in humorous fashion, only lightly banging his head on the side of the bath as he plummets. Once he has stopped spluttering and laughing, he explains to me very loudly and at length how distinctly un-groov-alicious it is to go dingdängdöng on someone's dängler. I am still doing my teeth at this point and have generously dribbled toothpaste foam down my front as I giggle in his red face, for what exactly is he going to do back.
He resumes, having waved his finger in my face quite a lot.
I allow him to think he's got away with it, and after a few presses, I run over and go dingdingding on his dängler again. For some reason he finds no words and simply jumps into the shower and faces the other way.
I smack him extremely hard on the nearest buttock.

The unexpected horse

 This morning I was up for 7 something. I knew this would not go down well so tried lying doggo for a bit: I cannot remain inert for long so hid in the TV room.
In a continuation of the "You come shopping with me and I'll take you to a new swingpark" deal, we visited a little park in Farlington to try out their climbing apparatus etc.

It was a medium, grade B park but what it did have was recently cut grass and 3 very hungry horses just the other side of the fence. So I joined in with the other kids and did my bit for the war effort by helping create some horse manure.

When we got home, bouncing beauty "Popsicle" arrived and so I just went round to her place. We did dens again. Today, during his run, Bud left the first couple of speaking number rocks on the seafront for potential new disciples to find. Either they will have enquiring minds and look me up, or they won't. While this was going on, Jof and I finished the rocket project. My class has been asked to create space rockets (using the industrial cardboard tubes from Buds' work) and not only have we cheated by deliberately cutting a new tube to make a longer rocket than everyone else's, we've done 2. Both have fiery exhausts and pointy nose cones, one has an alien as well.

Jof insisted on a family activity so I beat him at Monopoly, she's proving more resilient.

The Saucy Arethusa

Today was the day the PuddleDaddies had yet another beer festival to go to, this time it was so far away they had to take two taxis and a ferry to get there.

So first thing, Bud and I did the usual walk through the park just to get some quality time spent before he left for the day.

BensDad failed to attend the Puddle Expeditionary Force outing due to an allergy to whisky so his ticket remains unused, and PopsDad had to go to London to wet a baby. Portsmouth City Band (same band as last time) played oompah music including the Saucy Arethusa from the Proms sea shanties.

While all this was going on Jof took me to Pirate Petes' which had 2 birthday parties going on so was heaving. Afterwards I ate what passes for food in the Wimpy next door, possibly even crapper fare than MacDougalls. The rest of the Piddlers were at Erins' place but I just played with Jof. Then he arrived back and after supper, bath fizzer night took place as scheduled.

Jof has learnt crocheting from her mother. Nanna has made me various granny-blankets with the coloured squares using this method, Jof has always been crotchety but now it's official.

Some girls just can't be tamed

All hail me on my triumphant return to the land of my fathers.

Tomorrow the Puddle Expeditionary Force will invade Beirut-on-sea (Gosport) for the beer festival. Wonder if they'll get in the newspaper again, perhaps even for the right reasons?
Anyway, we'd carefully timed our departure so that there was a chance we'd drive past Bud on his way home on the cycle path of the Eastern Road. That way, we could go Haw Haw, we're in the warm with the radio and you're cycling up the big hill listening to seagulls. And sure enough, half way down, there was the old dopey peddler himself! We hootled and pulled over to laugh, and then we raced back - due to traffic, he won.
Swimming was great. There's a new trainee teacher who was nice and so forth but she has to learn about the perils of wearing mascara in pools.
I played with the new wooden railway track turntable. My one is much bigger than Bens' and has more knobs. I bet he can't wait to get his hands on it. Slight issue: when I was unpacking it, they were unpacking the overnight bags. So when I found a small sachet of "Silica Gel Desiccant Environment Friendly Do Not Eat Throw Away", I assumed it had to be a vital part of the new track component. Thus I acquired the kitchen scissors, opened the little white bag, and scattered the contents over the turntable, because obviously it's those rocks that you see on the railway line. Why was this wrong?

Some girls like that kind of thing

Full day with Nanna, train time! We drove through deepest Sussex to the Bluebell Railway which wends its rural way through wildlife-infested countryside on a reconditioned relic of the golden age of steam, when the railway network seemed to go everywhere.

I got to go in the cab and see the fire and the water and the coal but I wasn't allowed to shovel any, even though I've been feeding fires for years.

The railway has the longest preserved tunnel ever, under a village, and at one point we had to stop because there were sheep on the line. We also saw fieldmice, rabbits, deer, pheasants and millions and millions of kids who all had the same half-term idea as us.

 In the train shop we bought a turntable and shed combo to go on the wooden train track I share with Ben.

Some girls will, some girls won't

The mystery of the number rocks is no more. Sculptor Pete Codling made, numbered and fired clay pebbles at his home on Hayling Island and threw them into the sea for future generations to find. He got foreign visitors to join in and inscribe their own messages, locals (such as the numerous volunteers that built Wymering community centre, divers schoolchildren and the association for the blind) and anyone that walked past his stall on exhibition days. The One Million Pebbles project lasted from 1994 to 2009 until it ran out of funding half way through. Many will be lost forever in the mud at the bottom of the Solent, but out of the 500,000 scattered, plenty have resurfaced and will continue to do so for many years to come. People find them, take them home or throw them back.

Our first one went north with the fishtank when we sold it on Ebay. I now have 65 which is more than any one man strictly needs and so I will start to repatriate them to the sea from whence they sprung this spring, having written little messages on them (thus each can be both a number rock and a speaking rock, propagating the confusion). Perhaps American or other touristy types will take them home as a souvenir and then look me up and become disciples. Further stony fun can be found HERE!

Anyway, today we drove to Nannas' in the new car.

While Jof nipped out for a wee, I put all the headrests up to make the car look different.

We got there on schedule and I noted the lumps of snow that still remained and wowed Nanna with my ability to play cards. Then we started on a boat rack project to keep my schoolwork in, this may or may not work out. Tomorrow we'll visit the Bluebell Line - a real steam train run by railway enthusiasts who are gradually extending the network.

Clearly I will miss Wednesday Park today. But, like me, many of the regulars are away for half term so too bad. One of my embedded secret agents informs me that Bobert was there, but in the care of "Ethan", an unknown entity.

Some girls don't

I need to finish my rocket to take into school next week. So Jof and I bought some conical party hats for the 1 silver one in the collection, this to make the nose cone. I dangled the alien from the kinder egg therein and now it's just a matter of adding the fiery exhaust.

When we went shopping for party hats we found that Xmas decorations were still available at 50p per enormous box so we know exactly what colour presents Nanna is going to give us this year. Of course we had to abandon at least 1 shopping trolleyful because of a toilet alert but that just makes life interesting. Amazingly, we got a double-decker bus back home, you don't usually see them on our streets.

He brought me some motherboard spikes for my O-level metalwork project and we found they were attracted to our super-strong magnets so made spiky gorgon heads/magneto-porcupines for a bit.
I signed an extremely large Valentines' card to Jof. At what age should I stop carding my mother?

Some girls do

A super-lazy day. When you don't have to get up, I see no reason to do so.

We'd left lots of stuff at Beths' house last Friday so she came round to deliver it. I don't get Beth very often but when I do, she's a calming influence and we generally like to draw, cut and stick. This time we also read the news.
Starting with the weather forecast, we described how nice it was going to be. Then followed a succession of tragic headlines about death ("Today a child was killed on the motorway when.....", "This afternoon a consignment of poo caused a bridge to collapse killing 3 and seriously maiming 25 others....."). But it wasn't all bad. Every good news broadcast contains a sports roundup which went as follows:

In the football: England 2000, Wales 10,000.

In the rugby: Italy 2, Wales 2.
Bud got home having finally fixed the car key (new battery and code reset) so we can get in it without the alarm going off. We nipped over the road and swiped some wood from the skip outside the pub, but the painting of the nude reclining girlie had been snatched by someone else so our opportunity to burn her was gone.
All was not lost, however, as Bens' arrival interrupted even more rubbish kids TV. He has a new light sabre, the one that Darth Maul uses - the double ender and a snip at £12. I fought him with a few, several, or more of my own bladed weapons and we visited the park to climb, attack our chaperone and go in the swinging basket. He says he likes girls that kiss girls, like the ones in his Dads' films. We may be a couple of old swingers with a double-ended weapon but the basket still makes us scream.
After a lovely roast chicken dinner, I got super-excited at bedtime, burped, and threw up my supper, as is my way.