Born with a Sylver Spoon

Today is my regular swimming lesson. Through the week, I also attend Beaver Scouts, Gymnastics, and now trampolining. All of these paid activities miraculously come with official T-shirts and/or badges at a Certain Cost. Furthermore, the school (don't even talk to me about Nursery prices) regularly sends me on fact-finding junkets to Victorian farms, museums or observatories, festivals of singing or inter-school gymnastics competitions, all of which attract a "Voluntary Charge, without which the school will be unable to run the event". These are but the official outgoings. Then we come to the unofficial demands on petty cash such as the accidental Lego set Jof buys me for 'being good' or the Mungleton Orphan Fund Lego collection Bud is secretly buying me to allay the loneliness of moving house, or the irregular yet constant parade of birthday parties, ice creams and spurious £1 coins to spend at the arcade of flashing lights. Even Furthermore are the totally hidden underlying standard running costs of avocados, school uniform and central heating in my room, which could be rented out to at least 2 students.

Apparently there's something called the 25-year non-refundable life mortgage at the Bank of Mum and Dad, easy payment terms. In fact, as I'm racking up these immense debts at a couple of hundred a month, my Blue Chip investment portfolio continues to swell. Funny old world, isn't it?

Today the people selling us a house have written their names on some documents and posted them. We may be about to move, hooray, for then I get to investigate the Orphan Box.

Red Nose Day at school was great. The teachers had to do the Ministry of Silly Walks out of morning assembly and everything was fun with red clothes and hair. I got the Pupil of the Week for my outstanding improvement in literacy as befits someone with a blog of this quality.

Cheekiness

I am taught that if you ask politely, you may get further than you thought. At Buds' work there is a Costa Fortunum Coffee outlet, which is patronized by the numerous important international business travellers visiting all the hoity-toity companies at his Hi-Tech Enterprise Park. Thus, he reasoned, would they not have a bag of assorted funny foreign coins that might go into my collection? Yes. 10 Euros, £2 worth of valid UK currency, several dollars and 36 coins of all nations that my extensive collection was yet to acquire. My Blue Chip investments (detailed above) will swell all the more, and all for the price of a polite question in a glottal stop-free accent.

At home, ray-of-holy-sunshine Pops knocked my door and we made dens and played married couples and ate brioche and macaroni cheese before my swimming lesson. On the way to pick Jof up from work, a plump man and his ill-fitting tracksuit jogged down Osborne Road showing off all (and I mean ALL) of his ample and hirsute bottom. Given the musical-exhibitionist display Fraser and Thomas and I had put on in the boys' changing room, I am not one to talk, but really. Do we need to see it.