Friday, September 28, 2007

Jaspar Expresses Himself

You may or may not be interested in what happened to my evil cousin, Jaspar. I will tell you anyway.
He had been allowed to stay behind and not go to the stupid fairy exhibition at the Stroud museum. He was allowed to do this because he said he was doing something Expressive of Himself. And since Mad Aunt Caroline is mad keen on children expressing their natural tendencies she thought Jaspar could stay at home and express his.
So here is what happened.
When I ran away from having my aura cleaned, I had no other place to go than back to my cousin's house (before my evil cousins moved in, it was very popular). It is a big old house at the top of a very steep hill and by the time I got back I had stopped running and started sweating. So, there I was sweating along the narrow lane leading to the house when I see smoke whirling its way into the sky. I am always keen on fires so I speed up a bit. I can see smoke pouring out of Mr Pyman's kitchen window. Mr Pyman runs the parish council and does not eat meat for a living. MAC says he is her spiritual twin. I run into somebody large and reflective.
'Look out, son!' says the firefighter. 'Someone's set their bacon butty on fire. You need to clear the area!'
Now I know that those are the type of words you normally only hear on the TV, along with stuff like, "he needs fluids - stat!" or "you've got 24 hours before we throw the book at you!"
So I know it is serious. I clear the area by jumping into the next door neighbour's garden. From here, I can get into MAC's garden, no problemo. I am working my way up through the area of reflection which is the scrubby bit at the bottom of the garden, when I hear a voice. The voice says, 'HELP!' in capital letters but you can only just hear it because of the noise from the bacon butty fire. It is then that I hit the fog. It is thick and grey and makes me cough. Not fog then. More like smoke.
'HELP!!' screeches the voice from above me.
'Who is it?' I shout. And, 'where are you?' Although I have my suspicions.
'It's me, your cousin, Jaspar, you **!"£$&**.' I peer up through the smoke. 'I'm stuck in my @&&**$£@ bedroom! Get me down!'
Jaspar is obviously very good at expressing himself. Question is, should I bother actually rescuing him?

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Dame Honoria Glossop has Given me Some Homework

Dame Honoria Glossop has given me some homework and since I do not want to do my actual spellings homework, I am doing this.

How many books do I have?

The Parents have at least 4 million books and most of those are stacked up on the stairs leaving only a tiny weeny gap to walk through. And, Mum goes mad if you dislodge her piles.
I actually have nearly 50 books and they are all on actual book shelves.

What was the last book you bought?
My quite nasty cousins, Skye and Jaspar, bought me a very bad baby-child book of inventions for my birthday (just gone). They did it on purpose and I even had to say thankyou which was evil. My proper present came fromGrandpa Jack and is about proper inventions made in the Victorian times.

Last book I read
I was force-read, 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows' by The Parents but maybe that does not count. Neither does, 'Maths - Excercises for Book 4' or 'Look Around! Geography Goes Wild' or 'What the Romans Really Did for Us' because these are all school books. The last book I actually chose to read was, 'Biggles Learns to Fly' and this was utterly fantastic.

Special Books

The Parents read 'Mog' to me when I was a deadly annoying baby-child. I had to listen to Mog again and again and again until The Parents got so fed up they bought me an actual cat. We still have her and her name is, Serena which is a bit different to Mog.

'Moonfleet' has it all; smuggling, adventure, evil ghosts and action. I really liked it but Dad did not because he had to do at least 5 different funny voices in an old-fashioned english language.
It took a record six weeks for him to read. Actually I know Dad really likes it because he told me Grandpa Jack read it to him when he was a boy. So there we are.

Buzz Aldrin is very special for too many reasons to actually mention but here are a few. I will also go into space when I am a bit older.

I now have to let some other people have a go. So, Nicky and Horton and Alan might want to try.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

How Many Sticks Can You See?

How many sticks can you see?

Here are some more stick pics. They are sitting in the fishtank lid while I muck them out. They did not try to escape or even attack. And they have all their legs which is good.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

A Shy Stick

I have managed to photograph my sticks. On the whole they do not seem to mind having their pictures taken; in fact they do not seem to mind anything very much. The first picture shows the back end of a stick and actually he is being quite shy.

ALL of them poo at an amazing rate and if I did not change the paper every week they would probably begin to mind that.

They also grow quickly. I will have to change the fishtank they are in very soon because it is actually meant for one small goldfish and not five 6cm long sticks. If I do not give them climbing room they will become stressed and their legs start dropping off like nobodys business.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

I Expect His Aura is Having a Crisis

My smallest evil cousin, Skye insisted on only going round the fairytale art exhibition at the Sroud Museum. This was a tragedy, since it meant I did not get to see Edward Beard Budding and his lawnmower for any great length of time. I could not sneak off and gawp at what I wanted to gawp at because Mad Aunt Caroline insisited that we all fill out a museum worksheet (they were called funsheets but they were not fun) and discuss our findings with her and Mum. I do not know how my oldest evil cousin, Jaspar, managed to escape but he did. More of him, later.

Anyway, so we are at the Museum and I only catch little glimpses of the great EBB but there is ice-cream on offer at the end of the Museum ordeal. To speed things up a bit, I write down, 'I do not care' to questions like,
'How is red cloth dyed red?'
'What is your favourite fairy?'
and 'no' to commands like,
'Draw yourself as a servant in the eighteenth century'
'Dress yourself as an elf and then find a fellow elf to play with.'

MAC and Mum purse their lips like cats' bottoms when they examine my worksheet.
'You weren't really trying were you?' says Mum, sitting down in the tiny cafe and rubbing her now biggish stomach.
'Nope,' I say. 'I am on my holiday.'
Mum looks at MAC in a, 'see what I have to deal with' sort of way.
MAC plasters a smile on her face and says, 'I expect his aura is having a crisis.'
I notice that, Evil Cousin Skye has drawn stupid lines all over her paper. 'What about her aura?' I ask, pointing an accusing finger at Skye's worksheet. 'She's just scribbled all over hers!'
MAC looks as though she is about to faint and Skye actually gasps and says, 'these are my lines of wonderment!' she says it as though it is totally and utterly obvious to anyone what they are.
'Eh?' I ask in a reasonable way.
MAC fans herself with a paper napkin and Skye tuts. 'I take my pencil and I trace where my inner baby guides me.'
Even Mum looks boggled.
I laugh, long and loud. 'That is the funniest thing I have heard since we got into the Museum,' I sputter in a witty way.
MAC sweeps her orange sari around her. She pats Mum on the knee and looks at me. 'We may have to try some rebirthing for your son. It could be the only way to restore his balance.'
'I do not think I will bother with the ice-cream,' I say, 'see you back at the house.'
And I run.