Level 7 to the Max

At last, my 7th birthday. I rushed to open my cards, most of which contained tenners from my subjects and slaves. I got straight down to work on the Red Lego Aeroplane (the really big one that Johnny's got). After the first argument of the day about eating, I drove to the station to pick up Nanna, leading her like a simpleton but it still made her happy.

Lunch was supposed to be at Shenanigan's Restaurant but they were closed so we went upmarket to the John Lewis cafeteria, where we had the second food-related dispute. I like the idea of food, just not having to actually eat it. Excuses include: It isn't what I expected. It's got something on it. I'm full. I don't like chicken any more.

 I chose 3 boxes of Lego Ninjago, then went back and got 3 Lego Heroes, then I went back again and got a packet of Doctor Who Cybermen from the reduced shelf, total £74.90. Nanna bought wool, Jof got pillowcases and Lego wrapping paper, and he got the shortest jeans available, but Nanna is still going to have to do turnups on them. These sales are excellent.

Lego keeps me quiet, but if you look at Hours Of Quietness per £ spent, it's about as much as hiring a criminal defence lawyer. And what did they do with their hours of silence? They sat and knitted. Woolly-headed, if you ask me.

At my exact birth minute (just in time for second Neighbours) I was measured - 120.9 cm, an increase of 2.1 cm on September. Then we visited Mozzarella Joe's on Southsea seafront. We'd planned a return visit to see all the corniche lights and the ferries and Ryde Pier and all the other illuminations. There we were one of only 3 occupied tables and had a pleasant meal (at a price) and the hat-trick eating-related argument. I did have quite a lot, just not enough of the special plate the chef had whipped up for me.

Afterwards we finished the second Lego Ninjago vehicle but here is the Airport with massive red plane (and a few Doctor Who Cybermen doing a terrorist attack).

Here as promised is episode 1 of the serial "StruwwelPeter", written in 1845 by a German who thought he could do better than the picture-books on offer at the time.