Exhibit A

All the way through this term, we've been studying art, particularly concentrating on the comic-book pop-art bold, colourful strokes of Roy Lichtenstein.

We did a trip to London earlier in the year to see how a real art gallery did it.

We were led to believe we were choosing a venue for our own art exhibition that was nothing to do with the size, availability and cost of local venues, honest, for some of us chose Madison² Garden, the Coliseum, and the Great Hall at Windsor Castle.

And so we cheered when we found out we had hired the Pyramids, then we booed when we found out we'd only hired the square dance-floor area, not the swimming pools.

Then we booed even more when we found out we'd have to walk there, for it is over a mile, srsly. My Year 6 group were chosen to set the gallery up, being the most senior and sensible, so we set off with hope in our hearts and that godawful 'Sing a song of xmas' tune upon our lips, because that is what we have to sing at singing assembly, with only short periods set aside for dabbing and similar modern dance moves.

We were very slow. This is not only because it's difficult to keep 90 kids walking long together when there are 78 different factions, cliques, people not-talking-to-each-other, people separated for talking to each other, etc: but also because the one at the front of the never-ending crocodile was Child S who resembles a football in shape.

We travelled at the speed of the slowest member of the team, and reached the target drop site an hour and a half later. We set up the paintings and messed around on Castle Field for a bit and rolled down the slopes of the old harbour defence battery.

Then the rest of the school arrived and we all sat in front of our class displays and waited for the hungry customers to arrive. This whole operation is a fundraiser, something to do with Prosecco for the teachers, so all the parents were expected to buy back their own kid's paintings.

We tried to buy Ben's artwork because he's actually talented, but we weren't allowed, what kind of a free-market economy do you call this? But the venue (where The Damned played last night) filled up quickly and the parents milled around and bought the paintings and sloped off again, and I sat and waited for Jof, having given Bud the grand tour of the art gallery, arranged by class.

She had called in numerous favours and begged desperately to be let out of work early enough to see the gallery display: it was not enough.
By the time she got there, only my pictures and those of some kids who were orphaned yesterday were left and even the little stick-frames we'd used as easels had been cleared away, my school rucksack sitting sadly in the corner, while I sat sadly in the bar (closed) playing on my phone. We took some of the stick frames for our fireplace and went home for chocolate.

Once Jof had gone swimming to make up for the 2 chocolates she had accidentally consumed, I chose 'Rambo' (1982) for my evenings' entertainment and actually returned my pudding chocolate bowl to stores unused, the calories credited to my account for future use.