Haere mai people; I return from the Land of the Long White Cloud. I didn’t tell you I was going because I didn’t want to buy you any duty free. (Why did nobody tell me there is Absolut Raspberri? I feel so sad and maudlin. May be the vodka talking. Will drink more to dull the pain.)
Actually, we were there for Mr. T to grade for his black belt in martial arts. Yes, that’s right people, now Mr. T can pressure point you into oblivion with just a twitch of his little finger. (At least, that’s what he tells me. Mostly when I am singing one of my creative songs.) I have lots of photos of Mr. T breaking a board, Mr. T breaking two boards, Mr. T breaking a concrete block … I can tell you’re bored. (Board!) But when you’re there, you feign bright-eyed interest and you never, ever spill anything on their white pyjamas.
And in other news – -
I had been in the country for approximately two days when Crimewatch came on TV. Amongst the list of the four people currently wanted by the police (it’s a small country, OK?) was … a boy I went to primary school with. All grown up, apparently. Not to mention armed and dangerous. I don’t recall him being such a badass when we sat on the mat at story time.
Glad to see you back on firmer ground safe and sound again. Welcome home. Sad when friends go bad… you never know, back then that boy might have been smuggling the playlunch milks on the black market… hahahaa.
Cyalayta
Mal :o)