Egghead (Back, Sack and Attack)

Woke a little before 8, on the floor, surrounded by boys. No, not an excerpt from the secret diary of a hen nighter, but a perfectly normal Cub Scout sleepover.

So yesterday we'd voted not to burn the teddy bears and dollies on the Pyre of Justice, they'd all been saved and adopted by little sisters and similar creatures. We also didn't burn the totally usable chair, the Clanfield Scout group will either sell it for Scout funds or just give it to a charity shop. But we burned everything else, and I got to set the fire, being the oldest and most sensible and experienced in the combustive arts.

And we played a game where you get in your sleeping bag and hold it right up to your neck and jump around attacking each other, like a fight breaking out in a sack race. This was going really well until someone trod on my sack just as I was jumping and, well, you can't stop yourself falling with your arms inside a sleeping bag so down I went, head-butting the parquet floor with venom and purpose.

This gave me a BIG old egg on my forehead which was black and purple, honest, and enabled me to get up close and personal with an icepack for some time.

Today we had another fire because of why not and lots of games and gingerbread man-making and a challenge to get one of our bazookas across a ravine of hot lava using a frame and ropes, sort of a junior Field Gun event.

I was the last Cub to leave at 3-ish and we walked through the village to Peel Park which is a huge swingpark we saw from the road on the way in and home to Clanfield Football Club and a skatepark.

I did have tired feet and dirty legs but I summoned up enough energy to play on the quite decent swingpark and then I drove home and had a really big shower (hooray) before homework (boo).

Jof is going on a diet so clearly the best program to binge-watch is the Great British Bake-off and I was happy to join her in salivating over cakes and pies and Swan-in-Beer pastries and whatever.