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39 GEORGE THINKS GRANDAD IS TOO BIG

George's Blog

 

15th July 2017

 

GEORGE THINKS GRANDAD IS TOO BIG

 

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

 

There’s a pirate living near me. A funny place for a pirate to live as there is no sea and certainly no pirate ships.

 

The reason I know there is one is because on all the lamp posts and trees there is a poster saying “Lost – One Parrot”. Pirates have parrots on their shoulders, don’t they? So it must be a pirate that has lost one.

 

I suppose he or she (the pirate) could have come up the River Trent and moored at Newark Marina. Liked it and bought a house. Or he or she could have turned into a land lubber and retired like all my grandparents have done. That would explain why the parrot packed his bags and left. He or she (the parrot) is probably half way home to Africa now. You see if you are a parrot and you signed up to be a pirate’s parrot it would be because you love the sea and everything about it. Living on land would drive you crazy. Like a parrot off the water.

 

Whatever, I am keeping a low profile. I’m not letting on I can walk, now. I don’t want my first major walking expedition to be walking the plank.

 

Saturday is Sister Freya’s swimming lesson at Lincoln. This week Grandad and Mamma came with us. They even came in my car. Well I say my car – it’s the royal ‘my’ as it is really Mum and Dad’s.

 

Now it is a big car, far bigger than our last one or Mamma’s. I love Grandad and like him to be with us all the time. But he is far too fat to fit in our car. Mum fitted him in between me and my seat and Sister Freya and her seat. The car sides must have been bulging. The problem with Grandad is he eats too many puddings…and dinners…and breakfasts…and snacks…and chocolates…and cakes and... Infact Grandad just eats too much.

 

My concerns were ignored, as usual. Mum just put my dummy in my mouth to shut me up and drove off.

 

Truck Fest was on at the Newark Showground and I do not know about you but I would rather have gone to that than watch Sister Freya swimming. Grandad definitely would, I just feel it in my bones. Lisa Kelly from Ice Road Truckers was there and I think Grandad feels her driving job would be a good job for Mamma.

 

Due to the heavy traffic for Truck Fest, Mum decided to do a detour to miss it, which, as she had not got her sat nav with her meant an extensive tour of Lincolnshire.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, it was very interesting. There were not many hills, infact none. But we did drive through the Big Dark Wood, not just one but two or ten. I know I saw foxes, great big brown bears, the wolf and Little Red Ridding Hood, a few witches and even a lion. They were all hiding behind trees. They were all scared because they saw me pulling funny faces out of the car window.

Sadly I saw no owls or bats as it was day time.

 

The woods and the roads and all the diddy villages we drove through were soaking wet. Grandad said it was raining. But I have learnt to take what he says with a pinch of salt. It is his age, you know.

 

You don’t get rain in July, it is the height of summer. He doesn’t realise because he’s in bed but early on a Saturday morning the council workermen go around washing the countryside, the woods (big bad ones and good ones) and roads and streets and villages.

 

At last we found the swimming pool. Mum and Dad do not allow me to go in Sister Freya’s swimming pool. Why? I can swim. I have swimming lessons in a different pool on a Monday. Well, I lie in the water and splash.

I was most disappointed with Grandad and to a certain extent Mamma, they too would not allow me to swim in the pool. Sister Freya did so well and I wanted to show what I could do.

 

After swimming we were packed, sardine like, into the car again and transported to Doddington Hall for morning coffee. I was well and truly ready for this. Not a coffee but a drink and biscuits.

 

Grandad was left in charge of me whilst Mum and Mamma went and ordered. I was pleased. It is easy to coerce Grandad in to giving me a few extra biscuits.

 

Grandad was about to order: 2 rashers of English bacon, Lincolnshire sausage, eggs, grilled tomato, mushrooms, baked beans, black pudding, avocado slice, toast and Bracken Hill preserve, but thank goodness Mamma stepped in, stopped him and said he couldn’t have it. Wow, what a relief. Well done Mamma. If he had eaten all that and me all the biscuits he had given me there would not have been enough room for the two of us and Sister Freya on the back seat of my car.

 

Besides the biscuits I did get a special treat. Kiddylicous Apple Fruit Wriggles. Apparently one of my “five a day”, 98% fruit. But to me they looked like worms. But what would I know I’m only 1 year old. And one of my “five a day”? What does that mean? Five whats? Meals, poos, minutes sleeps, minutes peace, worms?

After eating we went round the shops at Doddington Hall. Mum tried taking me around the grounds in my buggy to get me to sleep. But she had no chance. When I’m with Gradad and Mamma I don’t want to miss any of the fun. Sleep is for losers.

 

Back in my car it was an even tighter squeeze. I loved having Grandad so close but I feared how we would ever get him out of the back seat. As I thought through a plan to look after him trapped in the back seat, keeping him supplied with food and water I fell asleep. The next time I woke Sister Freya, he and everyone were out of the car leaving just me stuck in my car seat.

 

And now it’s time for a little more sleep if I’m going to be up at 5.00am in the morning to wake the family.

In Cousin Ewan’s words, Bye, Bye, George

 

 

 

 

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

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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