Pellicules and Flocons de Neige

Thirty years ago in a previous incarnation, I confabulated the word "Pelluciton", insisting that it was the French word for both a snowflake and a flake of dandruff, which makes sense. Not even a real French person saying she had jamais 'eard of eet, mate, served to change my mind. Dandruff is a pellicule, fairly close I suppose, but a snowflake is a flocon de neige, nowhere near.
Another great Beaver sleepover, for which I earned yet another badge. Supper was spaghetti and I had a 5th helping: I maintain I had 8ths of breakfast. Jessica the little blonde Beaver makes funny noises in the night, and we didn't have a tent this time so I moved my sleeping bag around the room like a giant blue caterpillar.
Bluebird said I was the best-behaved Beaver and rewarded me with the last biscuit and a walnut, which I gave to Jof. I also got to carry the harvest festival food in church parade.
After church we piled up our belongings and waited to be picked up, like the luggage carousel at Harare airport.
I returned home to find my conker collection unmolested and a pile of 8 stolen beermats. Using the map of the park that Jof had drawn for me, I selected a likely spot to bury my conkers. I upended a bagful into a hole, covered them over and then thought better of it. Some people could have seen me, I'd buried a few decoys a couple of days ago and now I couldn't find them. Either a feral warthog had dug them up and consumed them, or a rival conker-stasher had looted my deposit and made off with them. (Or I could have forgotten where they were.) I dug them all up and buried them elsewhere.
Meanwhile the rucksack was getting filled and in the end we all chipped in and threw sticks into the trees to knock even more down. This kept us going for ages and at one point (we were right by the fence) a small girl piddled in a pink potty on the pavement right by where we were conkering.
The rest of the day was spent in recovery mode from the Beaver activity but I still didn't get to bed before 930.