Wednesday, 24 September 2014

Don't Hack my Cloud, Man

Yesterday at school we did music lessons but with a twist. Students got to play the instruments on stage and the teachers put girls on the drums and guitars, and had boys on singing and dancing! Do they know nothing? So Bud explained at length how you can't say that sort of thing any more since it was discovered that girls are only 73% crapper than boys.
Anyway, I can't dance, although I certainly put in the effort. The only move I can do is "Village Idiot Who's Just Had 46 Espressos" which scores 8.3 on the Spasmograph but only 1.3 when the judges hold up those little placards.
So due to having to buy more blue food for our mousey visitors I didn't get to go to the park but we cycled to sailing as usual.
hayling island billy line course of old railway across mud flats I was first there and the six of us (missed Erin) got our boats down to what was left of the water. Having been cheated by a previous low tide we wasted no time and I sped southwards towards deeper water after the 2 vastly more competent and speedy girls.
Ben and Johnny capsized a few times and had to be de-rigged and towed after us but in the end we all went in and chased each other around in a little channel of water miles from anywhere surrounded by whiffy mudflats. However, dunking yourself repeatedly on a cloudless evening in late September means that we were all very cold with stiff little fingers.
At home I had fish pie supper wearing one of Jof's crotchety blankets like an old granny and did my best wounded soldier impression with tragic voice and 3-dimensional limp. This only made them laugh louder, how unfair is that. Chocolate always helps, though.

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