By the way, we're marrying these kids off later this week

Grit is trying not to be a loud mouthed bastard over here. Which leaves a photoblog diary to show you the lockedinthehouse unsocialisedmisery of my three kids, tormented daily as I commit the crime of home educating.


The gritlets are here somewhere, in a workshop on the HMS Belfast, moored on the Thames, by London Bridge. You can see for yourselves what type of malignant crowd the home educators are. Threatening society by sitting down.

Then there's all that walking about the ship to be done, learning about World War II, finding out about supply convoys, gun mountings, the sinking of the Scharnhorst. Of course we are using that knowledge to undermine all decent people of the free world.


Aha! Now you're in trouble! Look who's taken over the ship!




That's torn it. We're all sailing off to fairyland to look for the magic unicorns who store glitter in their horns.


When we've finished destroying society, we'll come home by train.


And can anyone tell me that this does not show my children fully aware and in control of a delicate social moment: the moment you - you poor, sad, straggling passenger, breathlessly leaping aboard the train - must realise that the last seat left is strategically occupied by a fluffy cat and a cup cake?