Cloudy with a Risk of Meatheads

Up at 1015, a clear 12 hours sleep. Met Pops in the park and moved on to tunnel park where I recreated the old screensaver picture of yesteryear. Bought a vast box to keep Lego flats in, as I am again running out of storage space. That's when it started raining, so I put my shirt back on.
We cleared the Lego room of the last creation (St James' football ground) in order to make way for the new construction project. Bud has given way twice, for the stadium and the Cyberdyne Systems building, and now it is his turn to decide so we will build a rollercoaster using the railway track from the £120 worth of red Lego Train I bought with Xmas money a year or 2 ago.
When Jof got back from her long, arduous Saturday shift (explaining to stupid people how they'd unexpectedly spent their own money in shops, and no, Madam, we can't help you if you can't remember your name, please remember to wash next time you visit), I forced her to start Lego-ing with us, making granite piers and support struts for the rollercoaster.
But then the game of Risk we'd started several weeks ago re-asserted itself and we sat down to do battle. Originally, we all held sensible domains, but due to the vagaries of the game and the cussedness of the players, we had changed ends at half-time and all occupied foreign territories without viable plans. Once we'd annoyed Bud once too often, he pressed the nuclear button and there was a brief period of all-out war until Jof was killed and I was left alone in Eastern Australia (and Yakutsk). Bud re-armed with 41 armies and I capitulated because there weren't 41 spare armies in the bag to fight with.
The good bit was when I was singing about "Mongolia, Mongolia, no-one can roll ya" and Jof noticed that my half-term homework is to write a football chant for the hard of thinking. She got suddenly busy, particularly when I was defending Siam.