A Message from the Past

This morning an electrician came to activate the kitchen. Jof was getting dressed, he was in the shower, I was watching TV in the front room by the front door. Open the door if someone comes, he says. 4 minutes later, there was a ferocious hammering at the door and Jof started shouting down the stairs at me to open the door. All this noise was getting in the way of my vitally important Scooby Doo so I turned it up. Why were they angry at me? What had I done?

Anyway, we did the bottlebank walk and I bought some bath fizzers (shame we have no bath), a toy army helicopter and 2 sausage rolls for lunch, for I knew the secret. Then the secret arrived at the front door, and his name was Ben. Mrs Ben took us away and we played in his room for a bit, then went over the road to Ben's Bumpy Paths and cycled around a bit, then climbed all over the rocks by the foreshore and found antique Egyptian tiles and sandwich-shaped rocks and showed them to BensMum. We hid them in a special hiding place and went back to his for more play.

About 5 hours after setting out, we got back to mine and played Lego Heroes again, we were model citizens all day and he is my brother from another mother. During my out-time, he stripped wallpaper, one whole room done this week! During this event, we discovered a hand-written message on the plaster by the fireplace, previously hidden by wallpaper and soon to be covered by new plaster. It reveals that a Mr Albert Winkle (not kidding) from Hanley, Staffordshire, is available for plastering and decorating work in this area. As the advert is dated 2nd August 1911, I imagine that he is no longer available. Jof cleaned surfaces: it took her all day and first thing on Monday, all her work will be undone by the builders and windowmen.

Tonight: the Eurovision song contest. This annual extravaganza of idiocy has become a mini-tradition. I bet I could do better.