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24    BORING!

25th February 2017

  

 

EWAN'S BLOG

BORING!

Part 1 & 2

 

Hi Ewan here.

 

Because I have so much to say in this week’s post I have split it into two – here is PART 1:

 

I was politely telling Grandad, the other day, that I could not take another of his 3.07 mile walks around Linby and Papplewick.

 

Well I exaggerate slightly. Although, I am talking I just shout out the odd word in a tourettes like way. I’m sorry to anyone suffering from tourettes, I do not mean any disrespect and I sympathise enormously with you, it is just my best description of how I speak. I shout: Mamma (mainly Mamma) it does have the added advantage of winding everyone up enormously except Mamma. I now also shout: Stuck, Daddy, Mummy, Bye, Bye, Ro-Ro, Freya, Baby and Pete.

 

What I am trying to point out is that I did not chat through me being peed off with walking round Linby and Papplewick because I am not yet capable. Me and grandad have this understanding you see. We understand and can read one another’s minds.

 

I assist my point by throwing myself to the ground in a drama queen sort of way, hiding my face and screaming and screaming. It is amazing how much Grandad understands from those few actions.

 

Unfortunately because he is a stubborn old bugger he takes no notice.

 

But I could not take the mind blowing routine any more: Up Peregrine Road onto Papplewick Lane, saunter down to Moor Road, say hello to the old dears catching the 141 – woo look at the bus we need to take you on one - up Moor Road – check his Runtastic on the phone – left at the Griffins Head, passed the park (we do not even venture in it, why?) – complain about the pushchair wheels jamming with the mud- see the Horse and Groom on the right – down Waterloo Road and left on to Bernard Avenue to Mamma’s house. Every time I end up so bored I fall asleep.

 

Imagine doing that week in week out!

 

The other thing is of course I say walk, loosely. I ride in the pushchair, Grandad walks and pushes me. Not that I can’t walk, I can, brilliantly. It’s not like my talking all broken up, its good professional level walking. But he won’t let me walk. I fight, not to go in the pushchair but for an old-un he is somewhat stronger than he should be. I do not know how Mamma manages to handle him but she does. He insists on fastening me in the pushchair and I end up “Stuck!” and do you know why because Grandad is a control freak and insists on controlling me.

 

But I so did not want to go round Linby and Papplewick. Can’t we do a “Bear Hunt” instead, I indicate as we watched the DVD.

 

“Absolutely not, “ Said Grandad. “You can’t go stealing other people’s book ideas. I know I’m an almost-professional author. The only thing that stops me being a Professional Author is that no one sees fit to pay me for my writting”

 

“We are only doing an activity, not writing a book.” I wanted to say but the words came out “Mamma bye bye Pete Ro-Ro Freya.” which did not make a lot of sense to me let alone Grandad.

 

But I think what Grandad said was a load rubbish. He was terrified of finding a bear.

 

But no matter what I say we go out, I assume for a walk. Has Grandad taken any notice of me? We’ll see.

 

We get out side and there is this Storm Doris thing going on, wind, rain and if you are lucky enough to live in Scotland snow. Why can’t Grandad take me to Scotland? I long for the snow. It’s what story books are made of. Well not really, they are made of paper, but you know what I mean.

 

“Oh dear1” says Grandad. “Storm Doris. We can’t go under it, we can’t go over it, we’ll have to go through it.”

 

Excuse me Grandad you can’t say that we are in a book you know.

 

He decides to put the condom on the pushchair. A condom for the pushchair is a plastic cover that keeps all the weather off me so I am in a protective, space ship type plastic bubble. The condom protect you from rainy days.

 

Next, to my surprise, Grandad declares we’re going on a Dinosaur Hunt and goes speeding off pushing me in the pushchair at 100mph down the motorway overtaking stationery cars, but many cars, lorries, buses, vans and even push bikes overtake us. Wow! This is good!

 

We do not stop or slow down until we reach a big dark wood.

 

Grandad says all surprised: “Oh dear. A Big Dark Wood.  We can’t go under it, we can’t go over it, we’ll have to go through it.”

 

“Grandad” I say but the rest doesn’t come out so that he understands, “Careful what you say. We are still in your book.”

 

In the wood I thought I saw a Gruffalo but it was an obese man with a wart on the end of his nose taking his dog for a walk. A Big Bad Mouse scurried round a tree when he heard us. I suppose he wasn’t big, he was small and not bad either.

 

But suddenly, horror upon horrors the Big Bad Wolf stopped us. “Are you on the way to Mamma’s house?” he asked politely.

 

I stopped in my tracks. Well in my pushchair because I was stuck. What do I say…

 

 

25th February 2017

  

 

EWAN'S BLOG

 

BORING!

Part 2 of 2

 

 

I didn’t answer. I’m not taken in by Big Bad Wolves. What do you think my name is Little Red Riding Hood. His owner tagged at his lead and took him off in the opposite direction.

 

Storm Doris rustled the leaves in the trees above us to scare me. But she can’t scare me I just imagined it was ghosts. A grey squirrel ran up a tree. That was very topical: The Prince of Wales has backed new plans to sterilise grey squirrels in a bid to protect native reds. The government-backed plans would see grey squirrels given an oral contraceptive hidden in chocolate spread, which would last several years. Grandad said they should give them condoms but I do not see how a pushchair rain cover will stop grey squirrels having babies.

 

Grandad had brought some bird seed and put it in the wood for all the birds. But it was a mistake. This massive bird of prey swooped down on us. I was scarred. I think Grandad said it was a Robin. He had a very red breast, anyway. If I was a grey squirrel I would eat what the Robin eats to turn me red so that everyone loved me.

 

I could see daylight at the end of the wood. We’ve got through safely! But then out of the blue in front of us was a great big, enormous, massive pile of dog poo.

 

Nothing annoys Grandad more. Well perhaps cars parking on pavements. And conifers. And councillors. And politics. And… I’ll stop I could have a special website

 

He stopped the pushchair. Looked at the poo disgustedly and said: We can’t go under it, we can’t go over it, and DEFINITELY can’t to go through it. We’ll have to go round it.” And we did.

 

On to the motorway again and this time we did 200mph. But we slowed because we saw this massive alien spaceship. We were lucky because there was no aliens in sight and the huge propeller was spinning so fast we assumed they must be about to take off. Grandad knew the name of the alien spaceship, “Wind Turbine” he called it.

 

We sped on until we reached a river. Storm Doris almost blew us in. Grandad said to look at the fish. They looked like a Macdonalds bag, tray and cup to me, but I am a mere two year old not a wildlife expert like Grandad.

 

The river led to the railway and the level crossing. I felt like one of the Railway Children whoever and whatever they are. I’m too young to know really. The train came and it was not a real train. Just two escaped coaches. Real trains have engines with faces and smoke coming out of chimneys. I do not know a lot but I know everything about engines and trains because I study Thomas the Tank Engine on TV. These must be naughty carriages who have escaped. But the passengers look happy. Grandad says they are going North to find Storm Doris’ snow and build a few snowmen and snowdogs and do a bit of skiing and snowboarding.

 

Oh Grandad – please take me North! Why can’t we go into the snow!

 

We stood at the railway crossing and Grandad said, “We can’t go under it, we can’t go over it, we can’t to go through it, we’ll have to go by the side of it.”

 

So, we did and it took us to Mamma’s house.

 

I rushed in. Well I did after awhile. I was “stuck” in my pushchair (my language for being safely strapped into my pushchair. I couldn’t get under it, I couldn’t get over it, I couldn’t get through it, so I had to get out of it. If Grandad can get away with it so can I.

 

And of course the door needed opening. I found Mamma just as normal: big ears, big eyes, big mouth and big nose. Thankfully the wolf had not got there before us.

 

“Did you like your ‘Dinosaur Hunt’?” asked Mamma. Just a minute I thought, yes it was supposed to be a Dinosaur Hunt but dinosaurs were never mentioned again. But it was the most exciting outing I had ever had with Grandad.

 

But where did we go: Speeding down the motorway – just a minute that was Grandad running fast down Papplewick Lane… to Moor Road, ignore the OAPs catching the 141… into the Big Dark Wood near the Griffins by the wind turbine and river near the Horse and Groom on the right … on to the railway near Waterloo Road and left on to Bernard Avenue… Mamma’s house.

 

I’ve been dupped, I thought it was the most exciting journey of my life but it was my normal walk with a different perspective. Amazing. I now fully understand all about perspectives.

 

Bye. Bye

When I was a lad at school around 13 years old, our Maths teacher used to call me Wol. At the end of the year as we were moving up a class I plucked up courage to ask why he called me Wol. He told meit was thename of the deslexic owl in Winnie the Pooh. With my Harry Potter glasses he said I looked like the Wise Old Owl in the Winnie the Pooh stories.

 

Being the vain person I am I took it as a compliment

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