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Morris and more Jonathan
passion
bohemiancoast
I played out in the Chingford Morris band today, first time ever -- and you can see photos (including one of a very grim-looking melodeon player) at Hitch's Flickr account.

When we got home, Jonathan nipped off to the kitchen and was very quiet. Honestly, we should know better by now. But I was busy playing Guitar Hero III. At any rate, eventually we heard him say 'oops'. Very quietly.

He had been given a science kit called 'Blood, Bones and Body Bits' for Christmas. Now. This is not at all a chemistry set. But it did have some stuff you could mix up to make fake blood, and then squeeze through a plastic heart to demonstrate the way in which blood circulates. Turns out it circulates all around the kitchen table and floor, and certainly all over J's brand new white morris dancing type shirt. He looked quite a lot like Midshipman Lughole after he was shot, in fact; the wound was about as convincing and limiting. And with Grandma due to turn up within an hour or two. After a little emergency cleaning, our son came back contrite. "I've decided", he explained, "never to do another experiment that comes with a 'Horrible Mess Warning' without asking you first." Good plan, that.

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Excuse me but are you now living in your very own classic English sitcom? Somethign which combines Bless This House with The It Crowd?

I have been wondering what has happened to my scriptwriters recently in fact. Christmas appears to have featured a goodly bucket of Family Angst, which usually we have very little of; and my son's life seems to have gone a bit overboard on Jolly Japes that Don't Start Out Naughty. Meanwhile my daughter has turned, almost overnight, into Responsible Elder Child who helps tidy up because it makes things easier for the grownups.

But isn't your daughter close to being a teenager? I assume that when that happens normal services will be resumed.

One can only hope. Otherwise the universe shall end, and when where will we all be???

They must be on strike...

Our scriptwriter just sends our cat to eat a racing pigeon that hilariously turns out to belong to our landlord's father, who lives next door. I'm sure I heard a laugh track and have a nasty feeling I'm being played by Jasper Carrott.

This may sound crazy, but if you ever feel like a two-player bout of Guitar Hero III, remember I'm only a few streets away these days...

You'd need the Wii version, because I only have one Wii-style guitar.

Poo. My guitar is Xbox/PC.

OT: just spoke to arkady - she concurs that we really haven't room to store the doll's house or doll pram until Freda's old enough for them ... but that the Ikea toy I took will be just the thing! :-D

Never mind! I'm glad the wire thing will be useful though.

I bet the charity shops will love the haul, though. Not like they're not going to be loved anew.

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