Binge

All of us got up late today because we could. I challenged Jof to a game of Monopoly and she nearly died after about 20 minutes but miraculously hung on after I lent her £10.

I suppose later in the day we drove some xmas presents to her work and she collected her car from the garage but other than that, they binged on Star Trek: Voyager and I binged on Minecraft videos. It was one of those arranged crapness agreements where nobody wants to be the one to break the cycle. The only sad bit was where we thought about go-kart racing. Turns out the age limit is 16 unless you book the racetrack in Salisbury for 10 kids at a cost of £450, slightly more than we were planning on spending for my birthday treat.

Cross Town Traffic

Day 1 of the christmas holidays proper so everyone had duties to perform. Jof had to go to work so she told us off for not getting her up. Bud had to go to the Jobcentre to sign on the dotted line to say he was trying to get a job, honest, but could he have some more money in the meantime.

Thus we drove into town and bought the minimum safe amount of time on the parking meter which was 1 hour. The Employment Assistance Outlet is in an old nightclub in town and inside we met 2 burly security guards. They are always there because sometimes customers of the Department for Work Facilitation get angry and throw stuff, like a few weeks ago when they threw smoothies up the front door. We presented the card and the nice lady said you're not on the list and it turned out the Office of Career Acquisition Case Officer had written the wrong day. We stood by the festive railing near her workbench and discussed the situation and the 2 guards came over and said please move away from the tinsel, sir, there might be confidential information on her desk. If only they could set up some kind of railing to separate the public and private areas.

We left, having used up possibly as much as 6 of our 60 paid parking minutes, and next on the list was my duty, a family one. From there, we reached Grandad 15 minutes early, which caused much consternation: this from the man who could not allocate a time of day to eat his Yakult bio-friendly yogurt preparation. On the way in, we saw a horse waving its head in a circle. Turned out, it was scratching his butt against a tree.

Grandad has a decent swimming pool in his leisure complex and funnily enough, I had my swimming bag. So we moseyed on down and met 4 llamas: not visiting dignitaries from the Chinese Borough of Tibet, but giant Andean goats known for their hatred of foxes. Nowadays it is all the rage in the countryside for sheepiers to borrow these vegetarian fox-killers from Llama Farmers to defend their woolly assets.

I bumbled around in the pool for 45 minutes or so while various elderly persons looked on admiringly but I couldn't go in the hot tub because of the over-18s policy and the fitness centre was full of grey gymnasts being led by Father Christmas, so I couldn't lift weights either.

Normally we would choose a decent country walk with added pub lunch but the weather was not helpful. We decided on a trip to Winchester which in retrospect, was a total fail and chronic decision lacking in any logic whatsoever. The motorway was clear. It took us to the beginning of the interminable christmas traffic jam with alacrity. But for a medieval town not known for its calm traffic, the closure of the Friarsgate car park added to our woes and by the time we'd tried our 5th pub for food (40 minute wait, sir) we really needed a piss.

Fortunately I found a table in the William Walker right opposite the cathedral, with prices to match. On the cathedral tower roof we could see humans and their guide admiring the view. Last year the 3 of us ascended the tower on the official tower tour: we won 2 awards, for the oldest AND the youngest visitors in one go. How many other people can say that? Well, none, of course.

The food was slow so Grandad taught me indices and algebra and volume of the table and area of an obtuse triangle and then I got my fish and chips. Outside, Mr 32 (they have tour guides that do walking tours of the city) plied his trade and by the time we'd finished it was pretty well time to ditch Grandad back at his mansion and we took the back roads out of Winchester, past the prison that needs new warders.

There were a lot of back roads. This, and the pedestrians and the jams and the medieval street pattern (up Silver Hill, past Parchment, onto Jewry, past Southgate, Westgate and Tower) did not help our cause. The motorway home was quite full but for those heading west, the large crash outside the Gosport junction created a tailback all the way to the Eastern Road and I was glad to get home.

Film night was 'Bruce Almighty' in which the nutter from the Truman Show teamed up against the voice of the white-bearded prophet in the Lego Movie to wreak havoc across the USA. That was when I truly realised how much those above me like me, and I went to bed bursting with patrilineal pride.

Clag

A slow start for some slow people. The Spinnaker Tower had its top half in the clouds and the Isle of Wight was obscured by fog, as were our heads.

Jof wanted me to help wrap little presents for her work and that was good, because it wasn't me playing on the tablet or PC. But that only lasted a while.

I am growing my hair to keep my ears warm. Everyone else in my class has a hairdo or a stylish cut, but even though this 'blank slate' is a golden opportunity to have a new style, I've chosen Grade 2 again. After christmas.

Puddlers Xmas Party 2016

I was up at 8 something to watch some Minecraft videos before I could be told off for it. Very slowly we got our acts together and headed off back to the Westgate swimming pool in Chichester as everywhere else was closed or didn't have the diving board open or whatever. And us chaps continued our marine battling while Jof tried and failed to separate us.

After a quick hot meal we hit the JBs house for the annual Xmas party which is often messy. The PuddleDaddies abandoned us all in favour of the pub while the PuddleMummies tried to get us to go away.

I kept my present for the tree and at the end I tried to go to sleep in the front room but they kept treading on me so I got upset and went home.

 

Christmas: and Inter-Species Sexual Relations

At last, the final work day of 2016 for those who are not already unemployed. As we had the option of no-school-uniform, who was I to argue and off I went.

It was a fun day with a giant quiz in teams of 5. One boy hogged the picture sheet where you had to name the star and say what film or programme he'd been in, I was the only one to get Sly Stallone in Rambo. But mostly it was meaningless pants about pop songs and one of our team just played with his Pikachu so we lost dismally. And I got injured when we were sitting in a line and Child A poked me repeatedly in the shoulder with what he openly declared was his penis but was in reality a purple pen and it hurt so I kicked him in the foot.

Fortunately, I had brought in my Eevee (another Pokémon) so we had 2 Pocket Monsters in teddy form and had a Pokémon battle. We invented a variety of new moves such as Kiss (opponent does no damage next go) and Hug (similar attack restrictions) and Sexual Relationship (produces baby). This was ace for Okely-Dokely who wanted to join in so his right hand became the product of the union and again, I guess you had to be there. Apparently this bears some resemblance to ancient game 'Postman's Knock'.

Other people got to watch the film which was 'The christmas nativity' so a close escape there. We have a new topic for the new term which is the Battle of Britain: this is good for me as we've just bought the DVD and I already salute at Spitfires, because I know about the old saving-our-botties thing. Then I went home and killed zombie villagers for hours because srsly, what else does one need. Jof passed her special test at her work and we all forgot to ring Grandad.

Madness Organization of Importance

So, there I was, eating my breakfast, when Jof barged in and told me off for not getting her up.

Not in my job description, I said, being a ten year old boy.

Anyway, at school I finished my newspaper article about the trial of the villain 'Goldilocks' with details of her known associates and possible aliases.

During break-time 3 of my known associates and I played a game in which 2 of us were mental institution guards like at Pescadero State Hospital in Terminator 2. One played the murderous madman and one played the Doctor (medical not time-travelling), who chose to approach the inmate without our help and was killed.

Fortunately he had a brother (also a doctor) but he was Tasered to death as well on the way to the cafeteria and Brother #3 didn't last long either and then Inmate #1 declared himself immune to Tasering and well I guess you just had to be there. We called ourselves the Madness Organization of Importance, call us now on 0800-BARKING.

And I made an xmas card specially for Bud with a nice front but a deadly troll inside. I cut out a jesus-cross in yellow felt and wrote "christ the lord for christmas" on it because he totally loves that kind of thing, Praise Level: Archbishop and all that.

And on one of the jobs boards there was a superb opportunity. A student at the local University advertised for a couple of child actors to be part of a film, to be shot locally. With my finger hovering over the 'Apply' button, I looked further down the ad and it said ethnicity - Black African. I came up with the idea of boot polish myself but then rejected my own idea as I don't like wearing stage make-up.

Tonight's comedy classic: "The Running Man" with 80s hair and classic one-liners like "Oi, Lightbulb" and "Only in a re-run".

Sing Sing Sing the Farting Story

Decades ago, Grandma used to be a Music Teacher who sadly sometimes had to teach the infants group, which is pretty much playing the piano to them and getting them to sing simple songs and xmas carols in front of their own parents without wetting themselves. For the rest of the classes at least she could do Mozart and the rise of Rock'n'roll and the origins of the G clef and all the Italian notations and stuff.

And every year, a song called Wee Willie Winkie was part of the syllabus (Key Stage 1 hadn't been invented then, this was at expatriate schools in Africa and Saudi in the 1970s) and every year, all the kiddiwinks used to giggle and squee at the 'Willie' part of the title, and it's all very vexing but what are you going to do, they're children.

Has this in any way changed over the last 40 years now that everyone's on Tinder and Grand Theft Auto and Snapchat? No. Because 75% of the year group were under threat of missing the Friday end-of-term party because of laughing during the line "round yon Virgin meek and mild" even though they were technically laughing at themselves (well, most of them).

And some were chastised for singing about the farting story instead of the xmas story and the very angry teachers said if we hear it one more time you're all going to be kept in over the holidays.

I was one of the good kids and we shall inherit the promised land which is to choose our own film for when the rest of them are banged up in the slammer doing their porridge. Still, the whole school lined up at one end of the playground in our xmas jumpers and the piano was wheeled out and we sang several well-known xmas ditties in a variety of levels of effort and I hid right at the back which is easy as I'm relatively short.

Earlier, we had the xmas dinner which was turkey and sprouts and stuffing and a sausage and I don't mind the sprouts half as much as everyone else makes out although they do leave a sulphurous smell in your mouth. Later, Flynn came to the door and I gave him a tin and a half of Pokémon cards and he promised me a Mongolian banknote.

Laugh Long and Prosper

While the educational aspects of school are an important part of my life, so often it is the extra-curricular activities that stick in the mind.

Today we practised our singing, happy in the knowledge that after tomorrow, we shall never have to sing here again.

And we worked on our final drafts of our case study for Goldilocks v The State of La-La-Land and discussed ways of incorporating gutter press reports into our narratives without placing undue influence on the independent jurors.

But then it was the School Xmas Fair. Being a man happy to stand behind a trestle table in a position of authority and order people about, I have extensive experience as a stallholder in the various fairs and fetes that Jof has helped bring to a waiting public.

This time I was on "Guess the number of sweets in the Jar" (50p a guess, contestants to write their names and classes in the little box on the matrix, as well as their guess). Estimates ranged from the low 30s to well over 100 and while business was slow at the start, by the end we'd taken a decent amount of money and my guess was 2nd closest. If you have access to a Tardis, the answer was 48.

We also did the Jarbola although the number of jars was a bit limited. Ingrid won 2 in one go but others found they had a handful of duds, it's all down to skill, I guess. The jars didn't last long and we were seconded onto ticket-folding for the raffle and I even found time to buy some sweeties from the rather impressive cake stall.

Later I had a bit of tablet-time but then Flynn arrived and we shot each other with Nerfs for a while before driving north to Flip-out, where the local Scout Association had booked out the entire establishment.

Amazingly for voluntary groups of a be-prepared type, the Brownies had brought 90 screaming little brown people without booking so it was a little hectic, with a disturbingly aromatic changing area. We collected our special socks and watched the special safety video and once the Brownies had gone, we invaded in force and took the whole place over like a load of soldiers visiting France.

Once the house lights had gone off and the place was in Disco Mode, photography is challenging due to adverse lighting conditions so this one is of the massed Scouts working hard in a bouncing arena when you could still see where you were going.

We played manhunt and bounce-attack and see-who-can-drink-the-most and we all got hot and pink and on the way out, our Dear Leader gave us all a wrapped present. Flynn opened his on the way home and declared the chocolate bar called a "Double Decker" to be harder than his school desk. This is because he regularly bangs his head on the desks even though he's told not to, and the choccie bar was harder. Jof had dinner ready for us and I was pooped.

Impotence and Cupcakes

OK, so the day didn't start well because it was only dampy-drizzly and I went in without a coat and once I'd gone too far to go back, it rained lots and I got wet and cold.

But there is a work colleague who is making my life hell. It isn't just me, others are affected, but my own head makes it worse because I'm trapped by the situation. If I stand up and lump the Problem Child in the face then I get the suspension and the angry letters from the headmaster, but if I don't, then Problem Child is the winner and will return time and time again to steal the lunch money of my life. I am not naturally pugnacious or large in stature so this all makes me feel a little helpless. It may change when we go to different schools, but that doesn't help me now. Secretly I want to be like the others that have already punched Problem Child in retaliation for similar slights but for now I'll wait.

Now, you won't know this but Xmas is coming up soon and for this, we are expected to make Xmas cakes and take them into school to be judged and resold to aid school funds, definitely a theme developing here.

It is stated in the rules and conditions that these festive cakes must be completed by a child so when Jof baked the basic cupcakes, we ensured that they looked bad enough to have plausibly been made by a child. Fortunately this happened automatically.

So she got lots of cake decorations ready and we spilt half the pot of mini shiny balls all over the floor and had great fun cutting out alleged holly leaves that looked more like dead fish and I did a Santa coming down the chimney which looked like the Eiffel Tower stuck in a tennis net and all was fun.

I did a different design for each and we added some crunchy gingerbread bears from Sainsburys with varying numbers of legs and clouds of glitter and balls and squirtles of icing in special biological shapes, and all 11 came out well enough to win the Great British Bake-off as long as all the adjudicators had been eating the wrong mushrooms again.

Then we had the leftovers problem. Primarily, gobbets of marzipan: but also a bowl of melted chocolate. We used an old trick we invented once to store millions of dead matches (when we had an old-fashioned oven) which is the over-ripe banana. We sacrificed a banana and stuck toothpicks in it to hold the chocolate marzi-balls off the surface because they stick dreadfully.

Of course, these choice titbits don't go to the school for resale. In fact, I might just say that we baked some cakes, honest Guv, but they were eaten by the dog. Also, the boilerman came and fixed the boiler in 20 minutes. Now it's so quiet you keep thinking something's missing.

Designated Skiver

Woke up nice and early with the JBs in my room. Because we had been given specific orders to be quiet, we were, and just sat there playing on the various electronic devices available.

At one point, we were given breakfast and we briefly allowed this to interrupt our gaming, but not for long. They were removed at 1030 and because Jof failed to make much of an appearance, I took advantage and kept playing Minecraft and Klash-of-Tribes all day. Jof met me and her most common word was uurgh and she gave up and went back to bed. Even later I showered but at no point got dressed, such is the life of a megastar. Film night was 'Dave' in which an actor gets to be Prez of the US and is guarded by Diamond Dog from Con Air.