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44 DOING GRANDAD'S DAILY BLOG GEORGE & EWAN TOGETHER

GEORGE & EWAN do Grandad's Daily Blog

900 WORDS

 

THURSDAY 27th JULY 2017

 

WHO’S BLOG IS IT ANYWAY?

 

GEORGE & EWAN TAKE OVER GRANDAD'S DAILY BLOG

 

GEORGE:             Hi everyone, yes it’s George here, not Grandad, who you were expecting. Welcome to my world (not Grandad’s world) Won’t you come on in.

 

Grandad says as I have a very adult subject to put in my blog this week I can take over his Daily Blogspot. Isn’t that so exciting. Another amazing experience of life. It is up there with my top achievements like eating solids, walking and talking.

 

Whoops, I can’t talk properly yet. But it will come in fact it is coming, now.

 

My blog is all about this weekend’s Golf and Jordan Spieth’s extraordinary victory at the Open at Royal Birkdale…

 

EWAN:                  Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on to your golf balls for one cotton pickin’ minute. - What have I said there, have I slipped into a different language? I don’t even understand my own words. Hey, Cousin George, what do you think you are doing? This is Grandad’s blog, not yours.

 

GEORGE:             I am writing Grandad’s Blog. He says I could because I have a very important, grown up subject – Golf – The Open.

 

EWAN:                  That’s not very fair. Why didn’t he ask me?

 

GEORGE:             Simple your subject is not important or interesting enough.

 

EWAN:                  It’s better than yours.

 

GEORGE:             What is it then?

 

EWAN:                  My Dad’s Birthday Party.

 

GEORGE:             Are you joking. Do you call that interesting. I was there, it was s****. There was no theme to it and where was the bouncy castle, the soft play, the pass the parcel, the action songs, the cake, the gift bag…

 

EWAN:                  Yes, yes, I know. That is what I was going to put in my blog, how boring it was.

 

GEORGE:             We just went to the pub for a meal. And no one wore fancy dress.

 

EWAN:                  Except Grandad…I think.

 

GEORGE:             Grandad always dresses that way. I’m never sure who he’s supposed to be Worzel Gummidge or one of Snow Whites seven dwarfs.

 

EWAN:                  I don’t know who organised Dad’s Party. It can’t have been Mum it was actually on his birthday. In all the years Mum has been organising my birthday parties (TWO) she has never hit the actual day.

 

GEORGE:             It’s not a lot to ask is it?

 

EWAN:                  What did you have to eat steak or chicken dippers?

 

GEORGE:             To be honest I was annoyed with myself.

 

EWAN:                  Most unlike you George. You get annoyed at most things but never usually yourself.

 

GEORGE:             Too true. There’s enough other people happy to get annoyed at me without me joining in. No, but, when Mum and Dad put me in the car I thought: Oh no here we go again.  I wasn’t even allowed to go in Mamma’s car.

 

EWAN:                  I know neither was I,  some cock and bull story about not enough seats.

 

GEORGE:             I know total crap. They must think you and I were born yesterday.

 

EWAN:                  We’ve more experience of life than that!

 

GEORGE:             Anyway, consequently, I was so bored doing that same old journey that I fell asleep, as usual. The annoying part is I did not wake up until the meal was all over.

 

EWAN:                  So you weren’t awake when they came for the order?

 

GEORGE:             I wasn’t even awake when they served it.

 

EWAN:                  I do know, really, I kept peeping at you in the buggy and gave it a kick a few times to wake you. I wanted to play. I really, really wanted you to wake up. There were so many new things for us to explore together. Mischief just crying out for us to action. But, you did not wake until the bill came.

 

 GEORGE:            I know. Then all Mum gave me was this sloppy goo, baby crap. To be honest, what’s the point of  putting it in my mouth and through me. A waste of effort. Just pit it straight in my nappy. She just does not have the imagination to come up with anything better. I am so sick of  the gooy food mess I’m ready to walk out.

 

EWAN:                  Can you walk, now, then?

 

GEORGE:             For about a metre. When my walking is perfected I will be off to try a steak.

 

EWAN:                  You’ve never had a steak. then?

 

GEORGE:             No, I always, always end up being so bored with the repetitious pub journey I fall asleep and sleep through the ordering process.

 

Did your Dad get some interesting noisy presents in huge great big boxes?

 

EWAN:                  You’re joking, aren’t you?

 

GEORGE:             No deadly serious. That’s what birthdays are about.

 

EWAN:                  No he just got loads of these plastic gift cards in envelopes. I can’t see the fun of them. You can’t do anything with them, not even chew them. You do wonder about adults at times don’t you?

GEORGE:             I know and we entrust our lives and upbringing to someone who prefers a bit of plastic, as a present, rather than a cuddly Twirlywoo.

 

EWAN:                  Who’s the more stupid – them or us?

 

GEORGE:             Anyway, lets stop bitching about parents and let me get on with my blog about golf…

 

GRANDAD:          Ok lads I’ve given you 400 extra words. On my blog we are strict on the nearest hundred word cut off.

 

GEORGE:             But Grandad I have to write my blog. I am so passionate about golf. It is the whole point I have learnt to walk. So here goes: Jordan Spieth had an extraordinary victory at the Open at Roy…

 

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY

 

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step." - Lao Tzu

 

 

HAPPINESS IS…

Happiness is…sitting back and letting your grandchildren write your blog

 

 

GRANDAD’S ONE LINER JOKE OF THE DAY

 

Knock, knock. Who’s there? Doctor. Doctor Who?

 

 

 

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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