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30 St GEORGE

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29th April 2017

 

GEORGE'S BLOG

 

AGED 11 MONTHS

 

ST. GEORGE

 

 

Hi George here. Welcome to my world, won’t you come on in.

 

Hard as I try I still ain’t managed to pull off this walking stunt. I’m so desperate. There is so much extra mischief awaiting me if I can only walk.

I thought I had pulled it off earlier this week but it turned out to be dancing. Mind, it was good fun, I enjoyed it and it got and entertained an audience.

 

I have realised something about walking though. I’m desperate for a birthday as I and Cousin Finley are the only people in my whole family who have not had a birthday, everybody else has. The other thing we both have in common is that we cannot walk. So I’m pretty sure you can’t have a birthday until you can walk. Or on the other hand is it that you can’t walk until you’ve had a birthday.

 

As you know, Ewan says I won’t get a birthday because I am the second child. He says Mum and Dad do all the exciting new experiences with the first child i.e. Sister Freya and then loose interest when it comes to No.2, me because they done it all and there’s no novelty. So what’s Uncle Steve and Anuntie Jayne’s excuse for not giving Finley a birthday, he is the first baby. Maybe they are cheapskate.

 

I got excited on Sunday 23rd April. Bear in mind the last couple of weekends we have had Grandad’s birthday, Easter Sunday and then everyone was saying St George’s Day this week. I was convinced that was going to be my birthday as there has been a lot of talk about my birthday, it did seem imminent. And as you’ve got Santa and Rudolf there is this St George character but instead of a reindeer he has a dragon. It had to be my birthday I thought. Before I went to bed I thought what do dragons eat, not carrots, I know matches to fuel their fire. So I left some out for him. Not difficult to get hold of when you are a crawler (I cannot be officially described yet as a toddler, as I do not walk, I cannot toddle, another accolade that will come with my first steps.) and expected to hold of everything you shouldn’t.

 

But next morning no presents, it was not my birthday but the matches were gone. They had only been put in a ‘safe place’ by Mum or Dad. A ‘safe place’ is like getting to the next level on a computer game. Parents put the item in a place that is even more difficult and challenging for you to get at. Life is so exciting with all the challenges and inspirations it offers.

 

I did find out it was someone’s birthday, this guy called Shakespeare, William Shakespeare. He was born on Thursday, 23 April 1564. He is 453 years old. Imagine 453 candles, I’d rather have 453 cakes, chocolate cake and one candle. I can’t fully grasp numbers yet but I think Grandad is older than him.

 

I have quickly learned in my 11 short months of life how unfair life is. This guy has had all of 453 birthdays and I’ve had none! I bet he was a first child.

 

He must be a grandad too. In his picture he has no hair on top like one of my grandads. He is noted because he writes so much just like my grandad. He obviously had no success getting children’s books published, just like my grandad because you never see any children’s picture books by William Shakespeare.

 

He wrote lots of adult stuff which did ok. But they are so boring. All about kings, queens and love stories. Not even humorous stuff like Horrible Histories. No pictures or flaps.

 

Grandad says remember the new number of words rules. Do you think when William Shakespeare was writing Macbeth on his computer he was keeping an eye on the word count in the bottom left hand corner of the screen? I can assure you he was not, Macbeth goes on and on forever. As I say I am not good with numbers but I know that is more than 500 words.

 

Yikes, Mum, Dad, what’s happening to me, my tum’s covered in red spotty like spots. Help!

 

 

 

©2017 www.jeanniejeanniejeannie.co.uk – Phil Robinson

 

 

mage with text >>

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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