The Bones of the Gods

Another crisis was narrowly averted this morning. I got to school in school uniform (as is the style nowadays) only to find everyone else with flowers in their hair, sunglasses, surfing shorts, vomit-inducing shirts etc. Turns out it's "Hawaiian Day", not that Jof knew anything about it, #BreweryOrganising, #VacancyForPositionOfMother.
Fortunately we only live 1 minute away so the soon-to-be-replaced parent was able to get me some more colourful clothing.
Later, a funny noise in the kitchen turned out to be a chicken bone that fell down the chimney. This is not due to the previous owners leaving us a nasty surprise or the remnant of a burnt offering to the Deities of the Flue. More likely, we think, a fox opened a binbag nearby (bin day yesterday) and a crow/rook/jackdaw had stolen a bone from the scatterings, retired to a roof to enjoy it, and then the careless corvid lost its pilfered prize down our chimney, #GravitySucks. We have asked roofman to fit covers while he's up there doing the roof.
At swimming all the team were back together and we practised diving, but only the junior sort where you sit on the edge or go flat with knees bent and flags unfurled. If only I lived in Riyadh again like my most recent incarnation, I'd be at Olympic standard by now.
Later I played Jof @ Monopoly and he painted the inside of the garage/workshop, not only does this use up the leftover pots of white paint, but also it allows extra visibility for when we use it as an outside PuddleParty venue, as directed by ErinsMum or BensMum or whoever it was, difficult to keep track of everything. Especially when your head is full of paint fumes and potential Ashes victory against the dreaded Aussies. It has been yet another day of extreme potential and profit. The future is bright, and that's not just about the gloss paint.