The Purple Haze of Morphia

The builders returned in force this morning and I supervised their dusty work in my clean socks. Making up for yesterday, they promised us tiles, toilets and rubbish clearance. Then they all ran to move their cars as a traffic warden swooped.
In my guitar lesson, the teacher said that over the summer holiday we get to choose what song we learn - either a Wrong Direction rip-off called 'One way or another' or one by ex-axeman Jimi Hendrix.
Now I know that Erin and Miss Mitchell like Wrong Direction but I just had to default to Jimi.
In a change to my normal schedule, Jof picked me up from school, which was nice. She brought tales of a miserable and confused Nanna in pain but in a home full of hot and cold running nurses, all foreign, supplying her with all sorts of advanced medicines.
After Gym I checked out the shower room which looks much more convincing now it actually has a shower in it.
 But due to lack of tile adhesive, the wrong kind of washers and the mixer tap not fitting, we can't use any of it, it's just like when the builders put lots of yellow flags in the ground and say this is where the motorway will go, honest.
I was allowed to watch the hilarious 7-1 Germanic drub-a-thon of the Brazilians (must be a haircut issue) on pain of removal if I babbled inanely again. This time, I was sent to bed, missing the last 3 goals! I couldn't believe it! Surely I get an infinite amount of 'Last Chances'? I guess it's not the first time a lot of Germans will have to lie low in Brazil for their own safety.