What does not Kill me ...

I am a lucky boy, what with Jof helping me to get dressed and feeding me strawberries and jammy croissants for breakfast, in between laundering and stuff.
Today at school we had the Year 6 Fashion Show. A catwalk was erected in the assembly hall and they had designed their own T-shirts and they strutted with various degrees of tush-shaking skill. I liked the guy who did a headstand with leg scissors and pushed off into a breakdance move. But because of my fatal injury, I was not allowed out at breaktime and had to stay inside playing wordsearch and a game on the laptop where you're a red face bouncing over a blue landscape and you have to eat people, how many times have we all had that dream.
I brought home my Roman Chariot which closely resembles a frontiersman's waggon. It was a lovely day but as I can't really go to the park we had to paint the house-for-rent. So we walked there and the JBs said hello out of their car window because they seem to spend their life in a traffic jam outside our house.
Then I sat on the wall of my old school while he ran back to get the house keys, FML. He painted Bedrooms 1 and 3 while I sat on the stairs and played Minecraft and dealt with our first 3 cold callers who looked like they were selling religious double-glazing.
But it wasn't long until I was playing Intergalactic Thermonuclear Warfare with the broom and the mop again so we went home, carrying the ladder so we could get my scout camping equipment down out of our own loft. I sat outside the Co-op (had to buy milk) guarding the ladder and said 'Sup Laydeez to the passing girlies because you just know they like a bit o' rough and then we went home and I played Minecraft shoot'em up. Supper was deep-sea worms with pepperoni.