While the Van was down in Ooo-Arrland saying goodbye to the house that my grandparents have lived in for 26 years, we were failing to get out of bed to attend Johnny's 8th birthday party, the reason I didn't go in the van. 
I did get there after a rush and played on the parallel bars, while the van drove home past fields full of baas and verges full of virgin snowdrops. 
OK. So I saw all the Piddlers which makes up for totally relinquishing my past and my heritage on a whim. Poo happens. We met back at the current house and many boxes and heirlooms were unloaded and stacked into an already packed house. As if that wasn't enough, Jof and I hit the park (it was actually sunny) while VanMan drove it back to the depot and ran back. So we were playing pig-in-the-middle in swingpark when Man (disassociated from van) arrived and Jof went in the middle and we teased her with many googlies and chinamen and false moves and nutmegs. She has no chance because of our amazing physical skillsets. 
The afternoon was a matter of getting back to reality and I demanded noodles again and made a highly creditable Lego trap with dropping-cage and trigger-mechanism while yet more boxes were packed around me.
I slyly inviegled some gaps into the box structure enabling a hidden den of Mungleton-only proportions and everything is great. Look at this early Victorian blanket-storer and the grooviness of its bottom drawer, great-great-grandma must have loved it.
O Poo. Don't tell me I have to go back to school again tomorrow. Can't I have the holiday that ErinsMum suggested?
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