Saturday, 16 November 2013

What does the chicken say?

ph smoke pellets encapsulated arctic poducts check chimney clearI did as I was told and did not approach his bedroom until 0930. That was because Grandad was on the phone asking for a visit so that was reasonable. Jof had left us a long list of jobs so we put up a hatrack for my numerous headgear and strimmed the front garden and watered my cress and got the winter duvet out of the loft and tested the fireplace.
We used one of the little smokebombs and went outside to see smoke issuing cleanly from the chimney, a qualified success. The church where Ben and I do Beavers was having a bizarre Bazaar. Full of elderly ladies with elderly stalls of elderly goods, I played all the Scouts games and told Santa about my evil desires for Lego and got a balloon and sweeties and a spinning top all for less than £1. We even got in free as I was wearing Scout uniform. Stopping only to buy giant sausage rolls, we made it home in time to sweep the yard.
st james church milton bazaar stalls beaver scoutsSaturday night is bath fizzer night. But it's just no good if you haven't got a fizzer, so we caught a bus into town. Until recently, we have been scamming the bus company by pretending I was 4. Due to my limited height, this has proved profitable but no longer viable, so we had to pay £5! Jof was pleased to see us but too busy to hear about all the jobs we'd done. I wowed the girlies in the fizzer shop (Lush, Cascades Centre) with my winning smile and at the charity shops I got Conan the Barbarian DVD (much chopping with swords), some books, a giant wine glass for Jof, a back scratcher and some Lego.
Andrew and Louise (I was an 8 week foetus on their wedding day) came round to get Kiera's passport vindicated (Jof works in a bank) so I got to try out the fireplace and we used some of the old floorboards and roof battens and wooden offcuts that we'd saved from when our house was being rebuilt and also some sticks that I'd brought back from the park. Ben and I stripped the bark from some fallen branches so we saved them for the New Year's Eve PuddleParty.
domestic front room wood fire floral tiling surroundI also have a broken pallet and lots of other bits for later use. It made the house warm and pleasant. We also had a religious flyer put through the door (Susan buttoning up her cardigan incorrectly: this represented our innate wrongness "deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked" so we gratefully added it to the kindling pile).
I was fizzing away (ie producing lots of bubbles) in the bath when I became musical. What does the fox say? I enquired casually, for with my ancestry, I am obviously Norwegian. Ring a dinga dingdong neebly beep, was the reply so we both ringadinged happily for a while. But you must understand that we are one man who is 6 pints adrift without a lifebelt, and one 7 3/4 year-old who is as sane as a barrel full of monkeys where the monkeys have had to drink the rum in order to fit in the barrel.
Him: What does the wolf say? Whumph! Whumph! (this delivered onto my tummy through shaving foam). What does the bear say? Rorgl! Rorgl! (Vino collapso on the bathmat in self-satisfied mirth).
lord of misrule bath bomb lush cascades portsmouth I detected a theme. What does the cow say? Moogle! Moogle! (lols various).
Him. What does the turkey say? Gobble! Gerble!
Me. What does the chicken say? Faark! Faark! Fquing! Fquing! Fquing faark!
Basically the evening finished with me scuttling crabwise up and down the corridor singing "I'm a fquing chicken, faark, faark!" causing much anxiety in the Audubon society and helpless giggles, you know the way it is. The Fizzer I chose was called "Lord of Misrule" which is oddly suitable and it looked green but turned out purple. We also wrote my name on my leg with shaving foam out of the veterinary 100 ml syringe and Jof said I smelled purple which is lots better than it could have been, bedtime half past 11. Goodness me, yet another great day.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Hi! I'm glad you want to comment, for I like messages from humans. But if you're a Robot spam program, Google will put you in the spam folder for me to laugh at later.