A death in the family

Up at 10am, that's what Sundays are for. Before Sainsburys we visited Kirby swingpark which has animals as well as all the usual favourites. There were signs up saying please don't feed the goats any more as they're getting fat and arthritic. There were loads of cockerels and fat rabbits and ducks and zebra finches and cockatiels. I got a go on the swinging basket for I am now a pro. It's a pretty good place for a climb and a swing, makes a nice change from the nearby ones.

At home Bud rang Grandad to say happy Fathers' day but found out that Blind Uncle Len has finally died at 92 (Jof said he wouldn't live to see next year). I shall send Bud up to represent me at the funeral and to thank him for the £9,000 he's put in special accounts for me over the years. Blind Uncle Len was Grandma's only brother so this has shrunk our already small family. This is also tragic in that I really wanted a telegram from the Queen to do as my Show'n'tell and at 92, he was the oldest person I know.

In the afternoon I got my wish and we went to the Pyramids. I splashed and swam and jumped in and swallowed water and vomited all over the changing room floor and went down the waterslide and was there for 1 normal wave alert and the super-duper wave alert right at the end. We stayed until the lifeguards were booting people out, and I was the last out of the pool.
Once we were out I climbed the steep grassy slopes outside, ran down again - a mistake. I crumped into the road and totally skinned both knees and an elbow. O how I howled.

Then somehow I conned them into taking me out for dinner so we went to the Harvester up the Eastern Road and I had 2 bowls of salad and didn't like the pasta I ordered.