W/E 5th November 2016 Post 089
Hi Ewan here. Wow, what a week. Have I been in trouble? But it don’t bother me. A lot has happened too.
My grandad of the Robinson brand is pretty good. I don’t mean he’s pretty, he’s actually pretty ugly. No I mean I like him. He teaches me a lot about life. Lots of philosophies that he says will give me a good happy life.
But he gets in trouble lots too. Mainly with Mamma. Infact, he is always in trouble with Mamma. And then he gets in trouble with my mum and my dad backs my mum. Then Auntie Nan-Nan has a moan at him. Uncle Col-Col just shakes his head and smiles knowingly, and I think sympathetically.
I have had a day a week with Grandad and Mamma since I was three months old. My Mamma shows me what love is all about and grandad teaches me how to look after myself in life.
Grandad says you can be anything you want to be in life. He says be positive in everything you do in life. Be happy and don’t let the buggers get you down.
Mamma and Mum and Dad tell him off when he says that, I’m not sure why, may be they feel you should let the buggers get you down.
He says to me, “Remember this, son.” He always says son, he’s very forgetful and forgets I’m his grandson. “Always follow and achieve your dreams. Fight for whatever you want. And you’ll get it. Nothing gets handed on a plate to anyone.”
So like a good grandson I listened to my grandad and took him at his word. Big mistake, huge mistake. At nursery this boy had this toy I dreamed of. So remembering grandad’s wise words I decided to acquire it, in simple language take it from him. I thought it through and thought the best way to do this is to sit on the child concerned. Best, most effective way all round really, with the minimum of effort. The problem was this little bugger decided to fight back and I got scratched.
Not only did I get scratched, I got into trouble. The nursery people were not happy with me. They told my dad. He was not happy with me and told my mum. The dreaded naughty step loomed.
Calm down, calm down. I was only achieving my dreams. A little fella can do that can’t he? You certainly won’t catch me sitting in the corner like a stuffed pumpkin.
Talking of pumpkins it has been Halloween this week. I can’t remember last year’s Halloween much. This years was good. It is all about pumpkins, witches, food and dancing.
The celebrations started with The Bake Off final last week. Then there has been lots of events we’ve gone to with pumpkins. Pumpkins are like huge oranges. I so wanted to eat one but no one would let me. At home and at nursery we had to scoop them out and turn them into funny faces and then put candles in them.
Mum dressed me and my brother up as a pumpkin in orange costumes. She even sent us to nursery in them. I felt stupid. Not only that you know how grown ups do stupid things? I was scared someone would hollow me out and put a candle in me. So I cried and cried and screamed and tried to pull the fancy dress off me. Not because I was scared of my body being scooped out to make a lantern but because I was made to look a right stupid turnip. All my mates at nursery would laugh at me and I would lose my street cred.
But then mum said if I kept it on she would give me a bar of chocolate. I suddenly saw potential in my friends at nursery. I knew they would see through the pumpkin disguise and find the real me. So I took up the offer of the chocolate and kept the costume on.
Grandad talked a lot about Trick and treating. I wanted to see a trick. Grandad says magicians do tricks. They pull rabbits out of hats. I really wanted to see a trick and every time children came to the door and asked “Trick or treat” I wanted my dad to say trick so they would magic a rabbit. Grandad said he could do it but although he wore many hats he did not have a top hat which was needed to pull a rabbit out of.
So I had top manage with food and magic music. I danced loads to dad’s Top 15 Halloween tracks. Grandad’s put a list together. So that’s what Halloween is all about. But where do witches come into it. My favourite story is Room on the Broom by Julia Donaldson. Happy Halloween.
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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