Calshot Castle and Gang Warily

In 1540 or so, King Henery The 8th I-am I-am struck a heroic pose and said "Buildeth me a bijou castellette, not too fancy and at reduced rates. Don't go overboard with the stonework but stick a couple of decent cannons on it, enough to put one up the Frogs if they invade".
And thus was Calshot Castle born. Situated right at the very end of a long spit of shingle, it's a pocket-sized fortress that could happily contain up to 14 soldiers if they were very good friends, and one commander as long as he was quite short and didn't have a dog.
As it happens, so little happened for the next 400 years that practically nobody occupied it properly until recently when English Heritage rented out the Governor's apartment to whoever wanted to live in a castle, as long as you don't mind the view of Fawley Power Station and Fawley Oil Refinery and their many chimneys, and the adjacent RNLI radar tower.
When we got there we parked in the pay car park miles away at the other end of the shinglespit as opposed to the actual free carpark right next to it. I was tired when we got there, and had been harassed by several wasps which no doubt thought I was made of jam due to my strawberry-flavoured shower gel.
We sat on the sea wall for a picnic and watched warships, ferries, yachts and a seaplane go past. The castle itself was quite nice if you don't require a lot of space. There was one staff member who looked quite happy to see customers, we were the only people in that day. Plastic rats hid on every shelf and lintel to remind you of the companions of the past. Having toured it twice (20 minutes) we hit the shop (cupboard). I got a Spitfire and a cannon, and we walked back to Calshot Activity Centre which is a massive aircraft hangar with huge climbing walls and dry ski-slopes and cycle track and just as we were about to go in, my arm exploded in agony of the boiling electrified aqua regia type.
Just like back in a Latin lesson in 1981, a wasp had crawled up my sleeve (unbeknownst to me) and stung me when my shirt moved. This pointlessly aggressive action by this pointlessly pugnacious insect caused me a lot of pain, a couple of tears and now a lot of paranoia when any passing breeze lightly tickles the nape of my neck. We are not amused.
I sent him to get the car while I sheltered from the striped swarms.
On the way back we saw a swing park, and you can't not go in, can you. Gang Warily (yes, that is its name) is a community centre in Fawley with 2 skate parks, football pitches, swings, golf and a pond with nice wide open spaces. We tried them all out.
When we got home the roofers were clearing the yard, at last we can get the man in to dig it all up again. My clearance job (to coincide with Recycling Bin Day and an approaching new academic year in a new school) was to ditch most of my schoolwork from my last school. Of course, Mummies always say "Oooh, I remember when he did that" and want to keep everything. But you can't so I made full use of the binbags. This one gem (I had to fill in the blanks) shows why I've outgrown it all .....

THIS IS ME!

My name is                                     -      max  .0
My favourite colour is                    -    orinj
My favourite food is                       -    spgete and metborls
My worst food is                            -     unyons
I like to play                                   -     Ƨnacso and lados
My favourite cartoon is                  -   tom and jere
My favourite toy is                        -     my dinasors the hav ploingts
When I grow up I'd like to be        -   a totruck