Let Sleeping Beavers Lie

Half a Mohican. A Mohalfcan.

Today is the day of the second annual Beaver sleepover! Freedom from parental criticism for 17 3/4 hours! I can't wait until I'm a real scout because then I can camp away for a whole week. In fact, I might join the French Foreign Legion.
The day was spent in hectic preparation. I had a haircut. I bought some wooden book-ends in the shape of a cannon and balls. I ate a jumbo sausage in Rebecca's pantry. I won £2.80 on the lottery. I spent all my pocket money (including the lottery winnings) on Star Wars Lego, now including new cyborg. I donated all my ill-fitting fancy dress costumes to the Salvation Army, expect to see some very strangely dressed Ethiopians soon.

Meanwhile, he went to the darts shop in Fratton Road and got some spare darts and flights and stems for us kids, as part of the 'Make your Garage into a Pub' project. Purely by chance, there was a special offer of free poster with any purchase, heavily made-up nurse with ferocious funbags advertising a make of darts. I don't think she's a real nurse, because her clingy PVC dress has a zip all the way down the front. Jof says that all we need now is a big poster of Luscious Lucy with packets of dry roasted peanuts stapled all over her jugs.
Last year at the Beaver Sleepover, my lot went to the pub with Ben's lot, but this time it's a pub crawl down Albert Road to half-inch as many beer mats as possible for the Garage Door Club.
I arrived at the church second and immediately cut the apron strings. There was one slight administrative error, though. On the application form, there was a space for "Any other medical conditions" in which he had written 'Insane'. Normally, this would not be an issue but the Chief Inspector of Childcare Providers is coming to audit the Scout sleepover and it might lead to questions such as what mood stabiliser is he on, how young do you have to be to be committed, is there a mental nurse on standby, etc. Oh dear.