One hand in your pocket

Last night, Jof went to bed at 730, and never came back. He says why can't I do that. Plus, he only had to come in 4 times before 930 to tell me to stop singing.
We have discovered that our house-viewer of last Saturday (Code-name Gholigosh) is a serial time-waster. They view lots of places, feign interest, and put in an insultingly low offer in the hope that someone will mis-read it and erroneously accept. We shall not.
The very first thing Erin said as we came out of school was to dob me in for losing 5 minutes of Golden Time. It was because the teacher had to tell me to be quiet lots of times. What's a cane?
Anyway, we have had the end-of-year questionnaire from the Head Teacher, where she asks all sorts of questions about my perceived learning experience in order to improve the education service for future pupils. In answer to "What was the best thing you learnt all year" - Learning that a frog is not a reptile. In answer to "What would you improve about the school?" - put more things in the playground to hide behind.
Gymnastics was good as usual and my straddle rolls shone. Afterwards it was a bit nippy outside: Jof waited 35 minutes for a bus so by the time one arrived, her mind was so benumbed by the arctic temperatures she forgot to get off and had to walk back from the train station. She was unable to feel her icicle-feet and they stood up by themselves. The laundry was not dry. In fact, it had frozen solid on the washing line and the sparkly bathmat stood up by itself in most comic fashion. It should be noted that Bud went for a run up Portsdown Hill during my Gym session and a bit of him also stands up by itself.