During Acting (strangely quiet without Sydney) we did some Lion King practise and played a new game called King, Witch and Peasant, where you have to put on different airs depending on your station in life.
When I got home I had a task, to determine the addressee of an envelope that had come through our door because it didn't have a house number, just our road, and our postcode. We knocked on each door in turn asking for the correct surname but nobody was the right person. We noted down the house numbers where my knocks went unanswered, and we'll have another go.
At home, I ignored Jof because Bud is funnier and anyway, I had an Emerald House to build. This may be a psychological artefact of growing-pains exacerbated by my recent sojourn to Stubbington Camp. I wonder if any of my colleagues have had similar apron-string cutting issues. However I ignored her once too often and made her sad so she went to the gym and didn't come back for 6 hours. That left me free to play Minecraft for a further 5 hours while laundry and washing up and home-cooked pre-packed tuna pasta school meals went on around me, gosh, this is the life.
Todays' images are of the rationing props display at the theatre featuring little-known breakfast cereal product "Toasted Crapola Flakes", our modern mornings are emptier for their loss. Also, all the very happy brightly coloured rainbow people (who gaily took pride in their fluorescent appearance) of Portsmouth gathered in Guildhall Square to remember Orlando, before going off for a seafront dance-party. The weather was nice because the sun always shines on TVs. Even the Policepersons were in hi-vis jackets. Making friends again with Jof was treading on a minefield of eggshells, beyond my ken but something I have to learn. Chocolate ice cream helped.