Panic Mode

We got extra sweeties at school today because of someone's birthday, nothing like a sugary rush to get you going.
Last night Jof made oodles of tuna-pasta with cheese aforethought and separated it into lots of little meals for me.
I couldn't wait for my afternoon bowlful so got changed into comfy clothes, carried my drink through to the TV room and promptly spilled it over my trousers and the floor, and looked up hopefully at Bud to save me from the situation, which is what all kids do, hope that it will sort itself out by magic.
Thus I wore the dark and gloomy juice-stained trousers for all of 3 1/2 minutes before having to take them off again, most of which was taken up by trying out the new dumbbells that ElizabethsDad has given us. Maybe with work, I can become as strong as him.
In gymnastics it was rainy and windy but not inside where I was laughing at Bradley for shouting out the F-word. The motorway home was jammed (a confiture of traffic) so we dived down a side road to immediately discover it was a dead end into some decaying council estate blocks so we did a swift U-turn and escaped the tenement funsters back onto the road, not that I knew because I had my nose stuck in Harry Potter, hope he's washed. Afterwards it was six go mad on mescaline when we packed up the last load of special cacti. They have been purchased by a man in Wales, didn't know they got sunshine in Wales.