I am the 99%

Toys: the bigger the better?

The 600 series had rubber skin, we spotted them easy....

When you are a toddler, all your toys are huge. They have big colourful outlines and smiley faces and rubbery edges for you to gnaw upon whilst teething. Often they have wheels. But as you get to be as old as me, your tastes will change, and you don't chew on your toys so much, and they get smaller. Thus the mega-blok lego is replaced by the Duplo-blok lego which is replaced by real lego. Here I am as a robot, aged 3.

The vehicles have to be enormous to start with, but now I'm happier with the little cars out of the 20p bucket in the charity shop. You start with the giant inflatable things but now I've moved onto Lego heroes. And I believe there is a further change back to big things in later life as well, as you get really old your toys change from Ipods and digital watches to Porsches, garden sheds and blondes. So today Bud got all my biggest toys that I don't play with any more and lined them all up and I agreed to part with them - in return for a new lego hero. It's a deal! It's a steal! And then he said something about the sale of the century which must be a time lord thing.

We hopped on a bus and found 2 heroes in Debenhams in town - I paid for one of them out of my spelling test money and he got the other. We also bought chocolate frogs for Jof, don't tell her they were on sale at 50% off. I found it very funny to walk up the down escalator until I missed my footing and fell down, the little spikes on the edge of the stair got me right on the hipbone which was painful. Wandering back through Victoria park, we entered Guildhall Square which was where we found the demonstration. The protesters had placards, signs and a tent with refreshments. They declared themselves to be the 99% and urged us to "Occupy Portsmouth" which we do already.

It was a professionally managed street protest which required zero Police presence, only trouble was, there were only 5 protesters. So if they are the 99% I shall have to assume they carried with them the ashes of a dead relative in order to make up the missing 1%. Or perhaps one of them is 6 weeks pregnant.

Both of the heroes I got today (Surge and Rocka) combine with another hero in my collection to make larger, uglier scorpion-type entities. So I downloaded the instructions and made both of them, shouting regular updates to Jof, however many times she said that she didn't care.

Bath fizzer night ensued, my youtube educational videos were: epic skateboarding compilation plus Bachs' Toccata and Fugue to help me to sleep.



P. Shingle Esq, Inventor of the Funicular Teapot

Friday! And the end of term (again). Ben finished yesterday because of an inquest day but Erin and I have had to hold on to the last.

Grandma has had her home assessment and had a go on the stairlift I checked out for her, with luck the hospital will let her out soon. She'll have to have a lot of machines to help her move around, I'd better try them all out to make sure they're OK.

Jof asked for the Bay tree out the front to be severely pruned (not plummed) so now we have a huge pile of Bay branches drying in the sun.

Thus later, we'll have plenty of dry leaves to make double-ended cracklebombs like Ben and I made last bonfire.

The swimming teacher says next week is off, because of Good Friday. Doesn't sound that good to me if I can't swim.

After supper Jof went to bed so there's only one way to be absolutely quiet - be somewhere else. Fortuitously, we got a challenging text from the JoniBobs and so met them at the Pirate Ship Pub.

Luca from Erins' class was there as well and some taller ones so we all got on with games in the garden - football (here we are, Erin and I both being referees), hide'n'seek, catch/piggy in the middle etc. There was only 1 howl when Bob skinned his back on a bench so no actual arguments at all. They have a new plastic house that's exactly the same as mine but it does have a massive jagged hole in the roof - great for chopping arms and legs off. This is how all these houses die. Ben's one went to the tip last week because it was walls-only, the pub one has only 3 decent roof panels left and even my one is going the same way. I will be disposing of it at the end of the year.

Mrs Nextmatch, Inventor of Tantric Knitting

This morning I excitedly dished out the party invites at school. As the day chosen is free and the Kaves aren't too far away, Jof has agreed to actually take me there, maybe some schoolfriends will join me.

Erin's coming. It took me ages to colour in all the Easter eggs; the text reads "on next thursday at kraﻛy kaves please pay for yorself". And as this informal gathering is half Erins' idea, we'll all have to abide by her rule "Don't use the F word". 

The afternoon was spent in the garden. Or the garden centre, anyway. I helped Jof spend £103 on plants and then I helped unload them and the 3rd batch of Elizabeths' wood from the car. My work done, I snatched the chance to get an hour and a halfs' free TV while they slaved away outside installing the flowers, fertilising, hosing, etc. This picture is of me doing what I do best in a suspended basket-chair thing in B+Q.

Today is official Measuring Day and in the last 1/4 I have grown 1.5 cm.

Zoltan Vinaigre, inventor of the Adjustable Wench

Ode à toilette

I'm sitting in the same old park with last week's dejà vues ♫
It's the same old curly slide whether I win or lose   ♪♪

Too young to wipe my mind with a glass of deja booze ♫

I've got the seen-it-all-before dejà blues   ♪♪
But all this can be changed by the addition of one football. After I'd shown Bud and Jof my new school playground game of "Coconut Crack" (they were both highly suspicious until they discovered it was much like Eenie Meenie Minie Mo) we arrived at a typically buzzing park by scooter. Ben arrived by bike. The JBs arrived on foot: thus we were all differently abled in speed terms and the races we tried didn't work out. Next time it must be all-bike. Ben and I did explore the rest of the park on our wheels but eventually the football won out and we started.

Unfortunately so did everybody else: we gained a pair of Junior schoolers, a little kid with a black face who was far too good, and Ethan who goes to school with the JBs. Also we were honoured by armies of kids of various sizes who wandered in and out: this made keeping track of teams and refereeing and red cards and scores was a challenge. By the time hometime was eventually called after 530, the score was in the region of 28-25 and we'd pretty well all had damages and huffs and chocolate mini-rolls. But I'd never do without my Wednesday park.
At home I helped unload a second batch of wood from Elizabeths' front garden: it's quite naily but I'm highly qualified so it wasn't waily naily. I continued to design and draw invitations to the pretend Easter party in my head. When I finally realise it's all in my head, I may in fact go mad.

Morty Vicker, inventor of the Cucumber Sandwich

If this weather keeps up, I might just go and live in the park. Got yet another headbump notification when Willow (or was it Honey) pushed my head into the fence, my sore skull, or is it cracked cranium, may well be more bump than head.

Erin and I met back at ours for us to get changed and we ran to the park. It was going really well until Bud squeezed the juice bottle so it went all over me, I got angry and rugbied him which sent a further shower of juice over the nearest 3 mummies. I howled and was not to be consoled until loss of TV rights was mentioned, then we had a picnic under the slide. This is not the Radio Station slide I use for boys' picnics, this is the other one, have to keep them separate. Eventually Erin slyly inviegled herself back to ours for cutting and sticking while the mummies talked crochet (for they are pensioners) and Bud repot the ricins (for he is an international bioterrorist); I cut while Erin made posters for an Easter party I've invented and still believe will happen.
Her list of rules: (spelling has been modified to protect the innocent)

Do not fight

Do not take down the posters

Do not use the F word

Too many orange smarties

A rude awakening: I don't want to get up either.
Follower Ross arrived at work this morning with cuts and bruises and damages all over his face. While coming back from the pub, his mates bundled him into a bush, but this bush had a tree in it and the tree won. Give it 15 years and that'll be me.....

Erin and I showed our parents around the school today. We went into most of the classrooms and read each others' work books and maths books and looked at the tadpoles and the snails and the play areas and the music room and the library. My spelling is terrible. A chart on the wall declares that I am officially the second smallest in the class. Here is my account of the trip to the Bluebell Railway with Nanna a few weeks ago:

On wensday i went to my nanas to have a sleepover. on thersday I went a long way and then we sor the sine to blow bell rallway so we desidid to go in but it was vere hard to find a spas in the car park. ten wen we got in we went on a rell steme trane i got a map to tell me were to go on the map there was a big tunll on there. Fienalee we set off and then we sor it and we went in and it ternd dark for a long time. then we came out then we het to stop becos there was sheep on the trak. then becos thae sor the trane thae moovd out of the way then we went then we stopt at the staeshon and we had a piknik then we went home.

After a while we got bored of being tour guides and played in the reception year playzone.
At Beaver Scouts I had to wait for the ballerinas to finish again, but it wasn't the pink twittering 7 year-olds this time, they were much older and bouncier. I got an "Imagination" badge today so now Nanna has 2 to sew on for me.
After watching Scooby Doo and the Samurai sword I practised my Naughty Ninja karate moves (going woosh a lot and jumping up and down).

Blowing my own vuvuzela: the first BBQ of summer

Well, a relaxed start to the day, given the point-scoring and box-ticking of yesterday.

Once the shopping had been gleaned it was suddenly time for the first BBQ of the year, called right on the day that the clocks went forward and the Bransbury park trains started.

The Popses were packing for Egypt (the girls will command a high price at the market, well over 30 camels each) and the Bens had inlaws (which is a kind of disease that you get from parents) and Beth was busy but Erin and I invaded the JBs and got busy in the hovercraft.

Erin and Bob sometimes have arguments but this time they found lots of things to collaborate on. I would never have thought to fill up an umbrella in the bath.
Johnny said some bad words beginning with F which earned him a shouting, much like Mr Ben after what he said to his Dad.

Hometime was seven something and none of us wanted to stop.

Spelunking: the fiery caves of hell

Up at 0800, lucky, as I have Katelyn's party to go to at the unreasonably early time of 1045. Sunny again so we walked to the Kaves and were the first ones there. We're seasoned speleologists now so we know the routine, 1 1/4 hours of serious potholing and then the meal in the little rooms upstairs. There were about 15 of us, mostly from the same class (I was one of only 2 boys there, nice odds) so we ran and threw balls and generally beat up my pet adult. We didn't see any mice. I cried 4 times, twice when I banged my head on his knee while being suspended upside down, and twice when I was buried under balls or cushions and people kept walking over me.

While I was eating in the party room, Bud went outside and spied some wood for later removal. After the party, we checked it out and rode a B+Q trolley across the car park and made some of my party friends jealous because we always laugh so much.

Jof had an idea that a sunny Saturday should mean a trip to the seafront so we actually remembered to pay the parking meter this time and had 2 lovely hours throwing stones and eating ice cream and finding number rocks and climbing the pyramids and I won £4 on the horses on the pier which is going towards my next Lego Hero. The giant earth ramparts were busy and the air was thick with the smell of freshly smoked grass. Some people were swimming in the sea which is similar to the Puddlers who were swimming last October.

As soon as we'd got back, we liberated 3 cable drums and numerous random bits of wood from the retail units near B+Q and set up the bonfire. A few weeks ago we cut the hedge and emptied the compost heap so we had a huge pile of green ivy and other creepers plus loads of jasmine-type stuff that was too thick to compost. Thus, a MungleInferno™ is the only way to deal with such stuff.

I built a troll bridge and gradually we disposed of everything, leaving only the nice cable drum and some crackly bay tree leaves for the next PuddleBonfire. Jof made us hotdogs and we watched the sparks and embers float up into the night sky.

Produlike

When bonfiring, you need prodder sticks. For years we've used "Flagpole", an actual flagpole with red enseign attached that I retrieved from the Thames downriver from Maidenhead in 1984. But after there was a clearout of broomsticks at Bud's work, we now have "Bender", a broomstick with a pronounced curvature of the shaft, "Doreen", a named stick (it comes to something when you have to put your name on your work broomstick) and "Red" which is red. Red broke last night and was consigned to the flames with a short fanfare.

After bath fizzer night, my 2 educational Youtube videos were Big Daddy beating Giant Haystacks and tummy-ing him out of the ring (training in posing and crowd-pleasing for my next lead stage role) and scuba diving on a coral reef and meeting a pod of dolphins (I want to go diving).

Life is excellent. I recommend it to anyone.

Tell it like it is, unknown cyborg

Sport relief day at school today so wore the Pompey top and trackies, I usually forget to wear school shoes anyway. But what a lovely day, it's the beginning of a wonderful summer, honest.

And because of these things, I went straight to the park with hundreds of my schoolfriends. After the usual whack-a-mole game on the sloping tyres and hanging on to the turning wheel in desperation, I headed for the climbing bushes but was outnumbered by older boys from the junior school. I headed to the climbing holly tree, but was again outnumbered. These are my trees. How dare other boys occupy my trees?

Back in swingpark, Zak and Flynn and I joined forces to throw wood chips at a certain bald parent until he'd had enough.

While I was at swimming, Bud bought me Lego Hero (villain) "Splitface" for my performance as Troll, or was it my overall cool factor, can't be sure. On the way back from swimming, we stopped off at the bathroom store to see just how many broken pallets we could fit in the back of our new car, for bonfire time approacheth! Just when I was assembling Splitface, out we went to the pirate ship pub for Beer'o'clock! Does the joy never cease?

There we met Erin and the JBs but no Ben who was on Isolation for some transgression or other, shame. But we all had torches and Charlie and wotsisface and thingy from Gemma, ex-manager of Puddleducks so we played hide and seek in the dark garden. We all played with the blue chalk for pool cues, that's why Johnny appears to have Bluenose disease. I fell over and dropped all my mini-cheddars but otherwise it was ace, fab and schwing of maximus groove, just like me.

Trolling for goats.x

Following my recent opening night performance in front of the parents of Foxes (and attracting rave reviews from the Erins) the Broadway run will finish tonight for a lucky audience of Otter parents. It's been fun getting into the character of the troll.
I was perfectly cast given my roaring, aggressive tax-collection and willingness to tear immature ruminants limb from limb.

I gained 30 pounds and 3 horns for the role and will enjoy method-acting preparation for future parts such as 'Irate Midget in charge of bank vault', 'Hyperactive patient flying over cuckoo's nest' and the eponymous 'Corporal Flashback'.

'Billy Goats Gruff' review

As is the nature of entire-school-year events, a part must be found for everyone. Thus upon entry, the parents can see the whole of Year 1 all lined up in a variety of inventive costumery. Sections included Musicians, Pigs (one cannot stage a fairy tale without at least some pigs), Dancers, Narrators, Clumps of Dead Grass, Verdant Pastures, Wolves (one cannot have a fairy tale with Pigs in without having at least some Wolves to balance), Humpbacked Bridge Support Struts and River.

Then of course there were the lead characters: 3 Billy Goats of assorted sizes, and at the top of the tree, Me (well, under the Bridge, but who's counting). An ebullient opening saw Erin's Dance troupe prance over to indicate the River and other support roles: there was quite a lot of singing while the Musicians of Rabbits class rattled their instruments. The first of 6 Narrators introduced me. I got my own song and got to scare away the Pigs who approached my Bridge without first transmitting their passcodes.

I grimaced and posed. I was awesome. I was fearsome! Sadly the treacherous Goats kept fobbing me off with promises of greater meals to come.

There was a certain amount of waiting around while the Musicians brandished their bones and bells, for every lead character gets their own song. I showed willing and my generous nature by sparing the lives of the first two Goats who wished to leave the predatory Wolves on their Clumpy-Dead-Grass side of the River to reach the admittedly much greener Verdant Pastures on the other side. A little bit more waiting while the next song was cued up and the 5th Narrator picked up his script, then I was betrayed by the third Goat and fell to my doom in the River, who flapped some blue sheets vigorously to cover my scrambled exit from the production.

Thus came the massive triumphant finale with the entire chorus line waving their hands in the air and cheering my demise. We got 3 rounds of applause and while bowing gracefully, I decided I want to be a star, what with all that adulation of the girlies. Erin will be too if she continues to dance so well. Overall, the performance was excellent, everybody on stage knew their lines and it was well organised.

We were out so early that we drove down to Jof and gave her the car keys so she didn't have to wait for a bus. In retrospect we should have paid for a parking ticket, but got away with it again.

I cycled through the automatic doors right into the bank as it was empty, and cycled out again when a customer arrived.

We were right by the seafront so I visited my silicaceous brethren on the seashore (they were still asleep as the sun was up, I have protective cream so can be active during daylight hours) and climbed the pyramids again. At canoe lake some local schoolchildren and I saw the newest member of Portsmouth Model Boat society taking a big orange remote-controlled boat called Space Invader out for a spin, avoiding swans. It was awesome. Can I have a boat please?

Monkey wee, monkey poo

The boys of Wednesday (including me) have a lot to answer for. Johnny is older so he knows more words, amongst them 'Penis'. But he's not allowed to go around shouting this out so he has substituted Peanut which is acceptable. So we feel able to discuss peanuts frequently without fear of reprisals in the same way as swearing in Japanese (doing the little wiener finger).

Thus at showertime last night I sang a medley of favourite songs in preparation for Wednesday park including, but not restricted to, the following:

Faces made of peanuts

Peanuts make the world go round

Peanuts Peanuts Über alles

Peanuts are flying through the air

Peanut connected to the legbone

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Spelling continues. I've learnt chord by rote but still have trouble with the less intuitive breakfast. My memory isn't big enough to remember all these words, I think I'm getting mnemonic plague.
The trouble at school seems to be resolved. I was in a group of kids when they started fighting too much and I was dragged inside for a telling-off with the rest of them, but the teachers don't view me as an active participant, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Teddy's the real culprit, honest.

What a glorious Park Wednesday. Bright sunshine meant a huge crowd of kids from my school and the Juniors, I played 'Roll the scooter down the slope' even before the JBs and Ben arrived.

There were one or two spats when bottlenecks meant we had to wait our turn on the fireman's pole but generally it went off well. Archie (from Beavers) joined in and out of nowhere Pops and Baby Edward came along. So it was football, steal Baldyman's hat and running around for ages in the warm sun. Gradually the crowds subsided and we had more of the place to ourselves. Mrs Ben had brought some breadsticks which turned out to be very popular and we all fell down at one point or another so the sewers of Pompey will run green with grass stains tonight.

The Pops family are jetting off to Egypt next week on one of those last-minute emigrations. Lucky them.

It was not until we left that Johnny was congratulated for not singing any songs about peanuts. He is extremely musical at the moment so started on his peanut back catalogue immediately.

Go and tidy your room!

So the PuddleDaddy stands blankly in the middle of the room saying "Where on earth is my Chinese Orbital Bauxite Grouter?" and a PuddleMummy-ish voice comes from the kitchen "Where you left it, dear".

The next day, he's standing in front of the washing machine going "But I know I left my Omega-rich Reusable Lettuce Inverter here", but he doesn't find it. Meanwhile, the Puddlekiddie is rifling through the cutting/sticking artbox saying "Oi, who's swiped my 2.7 Giga-Dipthong Defibrillation Magnets?" and a PuddleMummy-ish voice comes through from the sofa saying "I haven't touched them, dear".

I'm sure we have all experienced this confusing situation, where deep in your heart you know it was there yesterday, but because you frequently have trouble remembering your own name, you don't want to push it. So gradually the lost object fades from reality, leaving only a transient frown upon your face. This is what the evil Mummy wants, and she knows that because she won the argument about where you'd left the car that time in Launceston, that you won't chance your arm again and she'll be rid of that Reconditioned Minoan Deer-hide Coracle once and for all.

The problem is, the evil Mummy craves tidiness. Any Kiddie will tell you this is impossible until they have left for University, but there you are. So they identify a terrible mess (which is, of course, a roomful of carefully positioned vital works-in-progress), scour the room in a whirlwind of righteousness, and the offending article (which bears a close resemblance to a piece of rubbish) is in the binbag, on the lorry, and in the landfill before you can say "Where have you put my Lithuanian Flangeless Resin Turbidifier?" The Daddy cannot be absolutely sure that he didn't put it somewhere else (even though 3 full searches of the house have failed to find it) because it was more than 24 hours ago. The Mummy knows she hasn't touched your stuff, for she only cleared the 'rubbish' away. And without habeas corpus, there is no proof.

Thus we mourn the tragic passing of

1. My bag of special permanent pens I'm not allowed to use and the pot of mouse-balls (last seen under a snowdrift of partly-used paper on the dining table)
2. My swimming bag and orange swimming hat (last seen drying on the chair in the utility room, like always)
3. My entire collection of number and speaking rocks (last seen in a Sainsbury's bag in the conservatory)
4. Possibly many other items I have forgotten, like the "Disappeared" of Chile.

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What a lovely day for an equinox, let's have one more often. Cycled to Lidl to buy more of those vitaminated juices that Erin likes and took only 10 more minutes to beat Bud at Monopoly, I ended up with £5232 which is less than last time.

Bank error in your favour, collect £200

Back to work rehearsing 'Billy Goats Gruff' for the Year 1 play in a few days, as I'm the Troll I suppose that means I'm practising troilism.
Even more spelling words! Will this incessant cavalcade of heterogeneous terminologies never culminate? Also I got yet another "Your child had a nose bump" note. Other kids choose head bumps, knee bumps or girlie bumps but I will leave my boat race to medical science (nasal division).

Straight out of school Erin invited us to the park so we did some quality swinging, giggling and screaming. But Mrs Ben had an important transatlantic teleconference with Hugo Chavez and George Bush so we hastened back to collect Ben for her. She hadn't picked up our confirmation message so we ended up with no Ben, no Erin and lots of time. So we planted all the seeds we'd bought and hoped it didn't frost again like it did last night.

In Beavers we arrived so early we had to wait for the ballerinas to leave, then I got to unpack all the chairs! We invented Mr Men characters, drew them, cut them out and stuck them onto straws and did a puppet show with them from behind an upturned table. Mine was Mrs Smiles.

Now, after supper #2, back to Monopoly....Bud killed Jof with a Mayfair right in the wallet, he won't last long.

Cast out into the pit of foam

Today was ex-Puddler Zak's party, in the same place as last year and with a lot of the same attendees. I haven't been to Portsmouth Gymnastics centre for months and it was great to be back in the foam pit.

Part way through, one of the kids invented shoving the foam up the back of your own shirt to make a rocket pack. Soon, we were all Rocket Men until Jof said I had to remove it in case it stretched my shirt. Here is ex-Puddler Lewis modelling the very latest in bi-directional double rocket jet packs.
One enterprising youth put one down the front of his trousers as well. We all jumped into the pits many times and Bud threw us in as well. Poor Jack Wadham was quiet with a headache but mad Rosie wasn't and everyone got pink with effort. The rest of the room was full of girlie gymnasts from the university bouncing around, which is always a sight.
The afternoon was lazy so I instigated another game of Monopoly (as yet unfinished) in which the first house was built on Mayfair.