If there's one thing I'm good at ..... it's everything

After a long, deserved sleep (I was still burbling at 10pm last night, I can't sleep if I'm too hot) we started on the bedroom redecoration project. Most of the old posters will be gone forever (I can count up to 20 and confidently identify a Triceratops, thanks) and the wallpaper will go and be replaced by decent paint, like when ErinsMum advised us on how to spruce up our TV room. As I'm not yet a teenager, I do not want black paint, I have elected to have red, although Jof may veto it a bit or quietly guide me in a less ... colourful direction.

In the end I got roasted red for 2 walls and lemon pie for the others, sounds like a balanced diet. This is me with the tester kit, not halloween blood all over the wall. Then I helped Bud empty my room and put all the stuff in the loft (sell-pile, dump-pile, charity-shop-pile ... sounds like clearing out Grandma's house) and then I put on the skeleton outfit. Of course it then started to rain so I had to cover it all up with a raincoat - enjoy skeletonning responsibly. Ditto Jof whose witch costume now looks more like manic bag lady with added pumpkin.

The JoniBobs had invited us round because trickle treating in the rain isn't much fun. Ben is away but Erin came as a ghost, Bob came as a skeliBob and Johnny came as a headless. Not a headless person, just a headless. We toured the streets as is now traditional, and I scored a bucketful of sweetie delights.

Cuckoo pints and singing nettles

A cold Tuesday of no apparent worth. So we lazed and loitered, increased our scores on the Phineas and Ferb surfing game and finally went to Swingpark to collect leaves for some kind of foliar display, as you do. In fact Elizabeth was caught doing exactly that just a couple of months ago, maybe it's catching.
As I excelled at gymnastics (winning badge # 6 in the process), the darkness arrived (don't tell me the group's reforming) and Blind Uncle Len's last possessions attracted a flurry of final bids on Ebay. First to go: set of London tourist slides - to a Frenchman. Hope he didn't mind the British warship laying waste to the froggy domains yesterday.

Slings, Arrows and Outrageous Fortune

So today I discover that blind Uncle Len's parting shot (terminal bonus) upon leaving the planet was to bequeath me £5000. I addition to any money made from the Ebaying of his unwanted possessions, this will go into another tax-free bank bond (just like all the other ones he funded) to help me buy a house when the time comes. Good old BUL.
It's the first day of half-term so we got up late and lazed around for a bit. I got my extra swimming lesson and we braved the turmoils of town (the whole world is on half-term and searching for Halloween stuff just like me) and I got a Lego human who appears to be one of the 3 musketeers. There were far too many shoppers and far too many shops. Why is it that women trail round retail hell for hours on end and then complain about their tired feet?
Then I got everything out and left it all over the floor for Jof to pick up again, 'cos I'm thoughtful like that. Once she'd cleared the room and I'd put extra luminous paint on my halloween skelington costume, I espied the clear floor, which was a fresh stage just asking for me to get all the Lego out.

The BUPA Great South Run 2012

British warship giving the Froggies what for

At last came an opportunity for Bud to run 10 miles around the streets of Portsmouth on a Sunday (what do you mean he's done that every week for a year?) with the Great South Run which all the PuddleDaddies promised they would enter last year when on a pub crawl. We set off about an hour after he did and just before I left, I saw him on telly (bright orange shirt and Pompey cap) overtaking someone in the HM Dockyard right by HMS Ledbury. Contrary to our agreement, we did not meet Beth at the appointed place but stood 200 yards east, and saw him go past. Then we met up and saw BethsDad go past. We are in the corner of the pic waving him on.
The sight of the 25000 runners going past was interesting, no chat whatsoever, just panting and the noise of footsteps like a million rubber raindrops upon the asphalt as they dealt with their inner pain.
Bud scored 1 hour 20 minutes (he's pants, the winners only scored no hours 45 minutes or something, and they're Kenyan like him) and got a medal and shirt and lots of sweeties and things in his goodie bag.
So then, once we'd met up again ( I took Beth round to mine so her mum could go and meet her dad) we hit her house for a splendid evening of chat and retail outlet games and hide-and-seek while the old people talked mortgages and stuff. ErinsMum needs extra vitamins, Popsmum needs extra Buddhism and everyone else needs extra sleep.

My cup freezeth over

** I hope my Dear Followers on the Eastern seaboard of the US don't get blown away by Hurricane Sandy**

Big old egg'n'ham spectacular for breakfast today and a surprisingly early return for Bud with a burnished copper warship and tank from Dorchester Keep museum shop.

Straight away we sent Jof to Sainsbury's while we did the bottlebank walk in a brisk wind - I wore 2 hats. I did have a bit of a climb in Tunnel Park but the metalwork was a bit cold. Met ex-Puddler Poppy C at the traffic lights who directed us to Mr Cheap on Milton road who sold us 2 pairs of brightly coloured kid's gloves for only a few quid.

Nipped into the butchers for ribeye steak (whopping great hunks of meat for supper) and other carnal delicacies to strengthen our resolve for the BUPA great south run tomorrow. The traffic is aready building up and by the morning the whole city will be in gridlock.

To be honest, the rest of the day seemed to entail them preparing for the run and changing all the beds to winter duvets, while I got up close and personal with Tom'n'Jerry and the Wizard of Oz. Thus instead of actual interesting things, I offer up these 2 items from the long-forgotten dusty cupboards of Dorset. One is a plastic bag - yea, but it is 30 years old, but that's where we went when we needed a pint of milk and some fresh coriander. The other is an unopened "Fitsrite Nose Guard" (Binky-griptight inc, New Jersey) which apparently attaches to all types of sunglasses and will protect your sizeable schnozzle against those naughty cosmic rays. Google has never heard of it, I think it may be the only one left in the world, which is quite normal for the Grandparents. Also discovered in the Stasis cupboards of forgotten-ness were: a Halloween Witch outfit last seen in 1967, an elephant-skin handbag commissioned in the 70s, 29 handbags (assorted) and a suitcase labelled Thomas Schnitker (left my Alma Mater in 1985).
Supper was King prawns and new potatoes panfried in butter, with sundry crudites. A dish fit for a king, you'd think, or certainly an ArchDuke of my standing (3 ft 11 inches). But no. Being left in risky proximity to a box of chocolate mini-rolls during Tom + Jerry had left me with a diminished appetite - there were definite murmurings of dissent as I left half my plate.
To make up for it I drew a large picture of a British warship shelling a French coastal installation, even raining down fire and brimstone on "Le Pylon" aka the Eiffel Tower.

Mutton dressed in wolves' clothing

A day with Jof.
Yesterday at school one of the questions thrown open to the floor was: "If you had a time machine, where and when would you go, and why?"
Maya said she wanted to go back 9 days to her birthday party.
Daisy said she wanted to go back to 1928 to see the telephone being invented so she could see if it was the same shape.

I said I wanted to go back to dinosaur times so I could make friends with a T Rex and take over the world. (Nothing wrong with a bit of megalomania)

Another one said she wanted to go back 5 years so she could be on that holiday to Egypt again (although being 1 1/2 again would have been a disadvantage)

So anyway, Bud went to Ooo-arr land to help Grandma and Grandad move house, I was on a promise of a trip to Krazy Kaves to make up for missing the Bransbury Park trains last week.

We took the bus to Pirate Petes instead (never stick to a plan if you're a 6 year-old) and I made a new friend to play hide-the-pirate-map with, and construction in the under 4s area. Our next bus took half an hour to turn up so I missed out on double swimming - but Jof has booked me in for an extra on Monday so all is not lost.

Move over, Rover, and let Mungle take over

At last, a wild half-term appears and I have ten days off!
But it didn't start well as I collided with somebody in the playground and banged my bum and leg on the asphalt. I wore an unhappy face for a while.
At going-home time (hooray, the weekend is here early) Erin and I steamrollered the old people again and they totally folded so I went back to hers. Erinsmum was happy because I keep Erin busy so she can get on with boring jobs. Bud was happy because he has to get ready for tomorrow and got the bins done without me interfering. Everyone wins.

We: played cars and made London Bridge. Then I ran over her finger and she got angry and threw a car at me but this soon passed. Then we got on with the main event - a stage performance. Yesterday we delivered a large-ish box (previously seen as a Dracula coffin in Cardboard, Joy of box) for Erin to over-winter her guinea pigs. We used the upturned lid as a stage and worked hard on our song'n'dance spectacular.

Performing to only 1 of the 3 available adults at any one time, here is the running order.

Munglet: 4 dances. Each one was essentially the same but done in a different accent and I approached the stage from a different direction, with a different gait, all of which will get a grant from the Ministry of Silly Walks.

Erin: 1 song. She's actually quite good.
Munglet: Heart-rending song about a man who loves his horse.
Erin: 3 further christmas carols, well rendered.
Munglet: An ad-lib song about the cycle of life and how you will miss out if you fail to feed your fish.

Erin: Bethlehem song. Hers were all from (her deserved place in) the school choir xmas sing-along-a-max, she has impressive singing talent which just needs a bit of breathing training and slightly less jiggling about.

Eventually we were separated but I did try to stay overnight.

The girls I never kissed

Another OK day at school with extra art lessons on our topic of costumes and masks of all nations (well, Africa, Mexico and Japan). Bud says I could take in the Japanese sword but I said we're not doing enraged serial killers in rampant bloodlust fever until next term.
But then, after spellings (he made me do lines - isn't writing "Enormous Victorians" out 5 times a barbaric punishment?) it was time for Wednesday park.
Many schoolfriends were there and once Ben and the JBs had joined us we did 1 3/4 hours of hard labour, with football, scooting circuits and ape acts on the climbing frame. For this we decided to take off our shoes to more easily hang upside down from the slide and traverse the climbing frame without touching the floor.

Following a break for picnic and gunpowder plotting, we decided the swings were sexy. From then on everything was sexy, Ben was a sexy pussy and Johnny said he wanted a big one but only from behind and we all sang world shutcha mouth and filled the sexy park with sexy noise, not bad for only 4 sexy guys.

9 minutes and 53 seconds after the 10-minute warning, the swinging basket was free so that extended our play. Bob and Bud threw the football at us as we rotated, we were spitfires and tried to spit on them even when they said it was rude.

We all left at the same time and I got straight onto the Phineas + Ferb website game.

The things I never learned

At least the fog had cleared for the morning walk to school, I thought it was going to have to take my torch.

Today the people that have viewed Grandma and Granddad's house twice are coming back for a third look with a builder in tow. But they also have to have some men in to re-treat the roof timbers and re-dig the septic tank. These are the drawbacks of country houses.

Erin and LittleMax ganged up on me today and called me a pest, it's only because I want to concentrate on my schoolwork and not get into trouble that I run away from them, then they chase me and say it's my fault. I will not be inviting them to my birthday party.

Just as we were getting ready for gymnastics, the phone went and it was the Imperial War Museum, as you do.

The nice lady kept saying I know you're on your way out, but could you just answer these 7 questions and while I've got you on the phone how do you feel about this and yes I'll put all this in an email anyway plus would you like to complete a brief phone survey and I won't keep you any longer, oo, now that I'm speaking to you could you just confirm..... Looks like some of Blind Uncle Len's wartime souvenirs and documentation will be Saved For The Nation.

We got to gym on time despite the overly polite yet slow woman and afterwards we visited the unknown park by Northesk House (the twin Ex-Puddlers Joe-and-Casey live thereabouts) and had a swing and a climb. Its paucity reflects the inner-city location but at least nothing was on fire in this one, unlike the Somerstown one.

The chances I never had

....and before you know it, it's half term. Just a 4-day week, an inset day and then a week off. I hope my working life will always be this way.

Erin and I did our planned bilateral attack on the parents and got us half an hour at mine playing carparks while they had tea. We should do this every week.

If it wasn't for her having an extended poo we'd have been able to finish London Airport in time for the Queen's visit.

When it got dark I hover-scooted through the thick fog, mist and surreal sodium glare of the coronae of the distant streetlamps to Beavers, where I made an African ceremonial mask. See how it shines. I shall be able to use it for a string of bank robberies, nobody'll ever know it's me.
I scooted home through a pitch-black park, my path guided only by the sounds of his clumpy running boots and the muffled thumps and giggles of the teenagers hidden in the gloom. Do you know where your daughter is tonight?

Out of date brioche, anyone?

Finally made it to Baffins pond swingpark 2 weeks late. The brioche rolls were even more out of date than when we first decided to feed them to the ducks. As it happened, we met the numerous cohorts of tame squirrels first and discovered that they do indeed like brioche.

After a go in the swingpark (with its new swinging basket and extra-wide slide) we circumnavigated the pond and fed any number of ducks, moorhens, swans and pigeons while trying to stave off the concerted attacks by the clucking seagulls (I think that's what he said). They all like the wooden posts which are valuable real estate to them.

In Sainsbury's we met a woman pushing a trolley with a plastic baby in the little baby holder thing that goes on top of the trolley. It had all the blankets and other accoutrements that any self-respecting baby could need, but it was a pretend baby.

Is this some kind of training device, with regular feeds and tantrums, or is it designed to scare the poo out of 15 year-old girls so they don't get one of their own too early? Do you need to feed it pureed parsnip and does it then emit a jet of vile-smelling plastic poo 30 seconds after you've changed its nappy? I do not know, but he used to sing me this....
"Oh, dear, what can the matter be,
all your nappies are yellow and splattery....."
I conned a Scooby-Doo DVD out of the bald one who didn't know that Jof had expressly forbidden any purchases, and we bought some fireworks next door for any upcoming events that might require them.

While he ran we were supposed to go to the trains which will be gone for the winter (I think they fly south) but I got stuck in front of the TV for so long that they were packing up and going by the time we got there.

I have done more work on the animal diorama: our river is blue instead of the more realistic green.

Beanz means Fartz

Aaah. How nice it is to arise near 10am. Our morning bottlebank (I scooted) walk took us to the park where we found a 50p in the mud. This morning Jof said I couldn't have any more 20p cars from the charity shop because the box is full, and it's my second box anyway. Thus, with the searing logic of the 6 year-old, I decided to start collecting little plastic animals instead. On our return, I found 5 x lovely shiny £1 coins on the floor in a shop, lucky BensMum wasn't there or she'd be trying to give them to charity. This is why I'm rich, and Ben is angry. 

Jof had been hard at work cutting the hedge and clearing the garden: Bud went out to harvest the beans and I was just about to help when I got trapped by the TV and failed to rematerialize for 2 hours.

Later I roped her into helping me make (and paint) a swamp with palm trees and treasure chest as a diorama for my new animal collection (as you do), while he Ebayed the first 7 items. You know, Blind Uncle Len had a lot of stuff. There's £70 worth of coin in his commemorative coin collection - if they don't sell, I can just sell them to the bank.

Here's me with some animals on a sword and a hill of beans. Expect high levels of folic acid and farting, quite possibly during bath fizzer night, where the waters of cleanliness may be even more bubbly than usual. In the end, I chose classical music, and used my snorkel to the strains of Albinoni and Mozart to try SCUBA diving. I've heard of an hour in the shower (Chicago III) but an hour and a half in the bath?

You have chosen ..... wisely

The weekend is here at last! As soon as the school door was opened, Erin came running out saying I was the horriblest person ever, but with that grin on her face, can she be trusted? No, for she is a woman.
I got 10/10 on my spelling but conveniently left the award sticker at school so it remains unproven. I also maintain I have my first wobbly tooth but until it actually falls out, that's unproven too.
The Phantom Bogblocker is back! A year or 2 ago, an unknown enemy operative bogwashed my coat. Today, all the toilets and urinals were full of bogroll and, together with all the taps being left on, created a flood of biblical proportions. I helped by taking the wad out of the urinals (wash hands seriously at this point) but was unwilling to tackle the bowls. Young Mr Teddy (who I saw vacating the crime scene) has a lot to answer for.
Double swimming was ace as usual and afterwards the 3 of us (Fraser, unnamed ginger kid with shoulder-length hair) and I did the quarkle song, it sounded like the Goon Show in China on acid. The SwimDaddies tried very hard to get us processed ASAP. They are going to have to shut the pool for 6 weeks due to a subterranean leak and transfer our business to another pool, most annoying.
The armies of Ebay are massing for the great sell-off to benefit the Blind Uncle Len memorial MungleFund. First up: wartime postcards bundle, cigarette cards, Victorian microscope and 19th century newspaper collection.
I have developed a new phrase for when I don't want to do something: "My earwax hurts". This means I cannot possible do whatever unreasonable thing is demanded of me.
After my shower he made me laugh so much I vomited up all my custard.

The festivals of fizzical jerks

In other news, 3 of the PuddleDaddies have again made the paper, in exactly the same event as last year - the Portsea Island Beer Festival. This time, there's only 3 of them still standing and the beer glasses are taller, but they obviously haven't learned since last time. It's embarrassing seeing your parents in the paper (at least it wasn't the court roundup).

This morning I started the day in PE kit as we walked to Ruby's school for an athletics festival, apparently. As a recent initiate to the inner sanctum of the Level 6 Badge holders, I  excelled.....I came second in the 'Throwing a ball at a traffic cone' event, which is why I am able to throw wool over someone's eyes at 12 yards, more on that later. I was officially naughty at school again (losing Golden Time) and have definitely developed an argumentative streak domestically as well as academically. Jof made me sit on my own for 10 minutes with no chocolate, Lego or television.
But then Bud wanted to do some deliveries. We delivered Great-Grandad's old wartime tools to a second-hand shop (£6) and the nice man in the music shop took pity on the Victorian violins when we threatened to burn them (£20) so, on top of Dear Follower Fiona buying the Napoleon clocks (£10) I've suddenly got £36 in my Blind Uncle Len memorial fund.
But the last shop was closed before we got there: to placate me, Jof took me into John Lewis and bought me 'Lego City Goldmine' with digger, ore truck, 2 miners (not minors, although it does say 7-12 years on the box) and some dynamite. I am still blissfully unaware that he bought me 3 bionicles in a charity shop, because the wool didn't fall over his eyes about my naughtiness.

Doing it for Charidee

We have made huge progress in dealing with Blind Uncle Len's earthly remains. Well, not those ones, for they have already been scattered in a garden in Kent, the garden of England. Today Dear Follower Fiona took the 2 Napoleon clocks and a load of Victorian dressing table glassware went to Charidee.
The afternoon turned out better than expected so we Wednesday parked. Ben and the JBs joined me and the Pops contingent arrived and we played a rolling game of football with various schoolfriends.



We went home early with Pops (I stayed with her for half an hour) so that the estate clearance could continue and by the end of the evening, all the boxes were in the loft and I was in the shower shouting at Jof (my subordinate) with my new-found aggressive attitude. Personally I blame LittleMax but Bud does not believe me.

Schmidt Violins and Napoleon clocks

We continue to filter the lovely pile of assorted material from Blind Uncle Len's house. We've had to invent a Military Badges box as the medals box is full, my commemorative coin collection has grown and we'll also have to make a new box for all the bullets.

Sadly the man in the shop says nobody wants Napoleon clocks any more, lucky Dear Follower Fiona has a horology-obsessed relative, for she is as mad as a box of clocks. And a man in another shop says he'll take a look at the violin. If I get enough money for it I will buy the new Quadski (half jetski, half quadbike) and race off across the sandflats whether the tide is out or not. If I don't, they'll be funny firewood.

At Gymnastics I finally achieved my boyhood ambition of attaining Badge #6. Not everyone in the class did - the naughty boys didn't, because they were too busy being naughty, so poo to them, as I came top of my group.  

Afterwards we went to Hilsea Lido swingpark for a change and I made a sandcastle. We were the only ones there. I got home and deposited sand all through the house and helped sort Victorian photos. And funeral bills. And fire insurance policies for people who died 60 years ago.

I am the Central Scrutinizer

So now it is time to try and reduce the amount of stuff we're holding for Blind Uncle Len. OK, some of it's obvious, the sword, assegai and medals and engraved silver will always stay in the family, the bullets, archaeological specimens and wartime memorabilia are interesting. But Jof is already making noises about the dead cameras, boxes and boxes of slides and the collection of historic newspapers.
Fortunately today Grandma went through the list of the biggest and most broken stuff and has given her blessing to a great sell-off and tip-trip and museum-donation and recycling frenzy. Every item will be scrutinized and assessed, and dispositioned according to the rules of war. I can't wait.
The last of the Scorpion Moruga chilis went into Bud's work on a free distribution today - and all were gone in half an hour.
We now have a carload for the tip and I think Mr Ebay will be busy shortly. The Imperial War Museum may also benefit.
At Beavers today I got First Aid Badge 1 of 5, for learning about casts and crutches. Apparently in Cubs you can get 10 and in actual Scouts, it's like 22 or something. Probably involving open heart surgery.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

Following the Bierfest yesterday, none of us wanted to get up this morning. But eventually he went shopping while Jof cleaned the conservatory, I did TV then drawing, he did running and we did eating chocolate, then we did Phineas and Ferb computer games while he did getting all Blind Uncle Len's stuff out to see what we could get away with ditching.

The Collection of newspapers from the Charles and Di wedding day got recycled, a lot of the specialist books and wartime memorabilia will experience Ebay, and the box of dead cameras, violins and antique tablecloths will find their own special way out, just as soon as we've cleared it with Grandma.

There's some surprises as well. OK, so he was in the war, so he's got medals too. And so has his Dad and Grandad. But there's also a real actual Iron Cross that's - ahem - been through the wars a bit, and a type 95 Japanese NCO sword from about 1943. This one isn't a parade sword, it's definitely got an edge for business.

Your whole life in a box

Today is the second Portsea Island Beer Festival and if last year is anything to go by, I will be unable to complete this post until Sunday, so this will have to do for now.

A while ago, Blind Uncle Len departed this plane of existence and the nice executor (not executioner) has cleared the house and bundled up all the stuff worth keeping. Thus we are summoned to Farnborough to collect the boxes of personal effects. This was a spendid opportunity to seek out and climb new and interesting swingparks from beyond the great divide.

1. Sycamore Park, Farnborough. This was a Class A park. It has:

2 swinging baskets (one enormous)

3 hammocks (plastic)

3 climbing frames

4 spinning things

1 roundabout
2 seesaws
2 sets of swings (1 V large)

2 trampolines
3 aircraft overflying on way to Farnborough airfield

giant boulders (several)

a giant skateboard, 5 slides, a spinning cup, drumkit and xylophone, speaking tubes, rope pyramid and a woven willow tree den (where I had a wee).

Rushmoor borough council has a lot of money to buy great park equipment.

The car was completely full of Blind Uncle Len's stuff and we had to leave some behind so will need to go again. This means next time we can visit Wooden Frame Park in Farnham.

On the way back we stopped off south of Aldershot to see this sign for UXBs.

At home we rushed everything upstairs and picked Jof up. We drove to the Groundlings theatre for the 2nd Portsea Island beer festival and I toured the room looking for Mick the Manager, but he was not there which was a great shame.
We went round to Erin's house and played with Ben and the JBs, Erin was bossy, I clanged Bobert and Ben cracked Johnny over the head with the handle end of a light sabre so it all kicked off just when the PuddleDaddies fell in the front door. It was at this point we decided to go home for fish and chips.

Less Willie Nelson, more Nellie Wilson

Yesterday while completing the Lego Tower of Confusion I was singing, because I usually am. It's not exactly Sinatra, but I'm happy.
Today it was supposed to be my second double-swimming to make up for the second week lost to a boiler malfunction. The nice manager lady said it would never happen again. Today it did. So what does this mean?


Branogel. For when you have a ..... jellied brain



 A double lesson every 7 weeks, a triple on the second Wednesday after Pentecost and a random single on every 9th Thursday (Public Holiday in Scotland only)?

We went off very miffed and did the shopping that Bud was planning to do anyway. Fortunately I was able to hijack it and surreptitiously add a woppo bag of fruit pastilles and Toxic Reapa (Lego Villain).

Dear Follower Fiona got me a couple of bags of dessicant named Branogel, as you do.

Today we got our holiday project books back and I got a special commendation from the Head Teacher. Erin got one as well and Best-in-class which sounds like something from Crufts.

It's pucker gear, mate

Today was so wet I only got 20 minutes of playtime in toto - it's supposed to be an hour and a half! We raised £190 for Jeans for Genes and did Harvest Festival.
Yesterday I lost 5 minutes of golden time for having to be told twice to be quiet. Today I made up for it by getting into the Golden Book for using posh writing (curly 'y's) and "writing a fantastic poem using adjectives, verbs, nouns and adverbs". It gives hints of future abilities so here it is.

The Magic Wallet

Inside the magic wallet there is a secret. It might be a

A blood red ruby glittering vibrently

A stipey tiger biting hysterically

A wite shiny tooth glittering britly

A spockey sckeleleten rataling noisely

A spockey blue eye sceiring slowly

A gold glitering trothy siting grfely

We don't know. The secret is locked safe inside!

I thought Thursday afternoon was supposed to be a day off. But no, we trudged through the rain straight to the bottlebank and onwards to Sid's the barbers where I got a grade 2 and a lolly.

 Then we carried on with the Lego tower thing and I casually reminded him that it was Meet-the Teacher day, so off we went. This is the class Holiday Project board, with my Tiger blog prominently displayed. We'd barely returned when Jof needed picking up and I look forward to seeing Erin's new hairdo tomorrow.