Custard Gannets (on the Cake again)

Recently I have become a very emotional and empathic person, picking up on minor events and making a fuss. My mate Ben and I are Door Monitors. We have the honour of holding open the doors of the assembly hall and monitoring the activities of the moving carpet of little children as they stroll in.

The new head-teacher is very hot on politeness and manners and I fully support his cherished ideals in that everyone else should indeed be polite. So he cascades his orders through the teachers and Mr Ben and I count up the number of people that say Thank You to us for opening the doors. A similar Door Monitor Team operates on the other side, mostly catering to the Year 3s and 4s, whereas we mostly admit Year 5s and 6s.

Out of approximately 180 entrants and potential Thank-You-ees, the other team scored 140 gratuities. We got 15, and I fumed and steamed and had strong words with the Minister Without Portfolio, sorry, the Head. Of course, it could just be that the younger Thankers just do what they're told and the older ones didn't ask us to open it in the first place, so are less forthcoming.

Here is Playground Game 1 of 4, that I told you about yesterday. It requires memory and reactions, and also that you press Start to begin, which foxes some of the younger players.

But then we saw a video interview with StampyLongnose (my hero, and an Archbishop in the modern religion that is Minecraft) in which he decried bullying and 'Griefing' and advocated being excellent to each other, and partying on, dude. In the same way as Caesar was a salad dressing dude.

In gymnastics I got a sore back after doing reverso-bridge flips and Jof has a sore knee after being 63 and Bud has a sore foot after running so we are the Achers, or possibly the Hectares.

When I sit on my dinner chair I can't quite touch the floor enough to shuffle-tuck-myself-in. So in order to lengthen my bones I am an official Custard Gannet with a dairy foods fixation. Long may I grow.