Having fun

Grit went off to play this afternoon, so can record no gruesome reality.

I have to find something, obviously, otherwise this blog will be hopeless. So I have complained to the BBC about a foolish article from the Devon news website. Satisfyingly, I have used words like 'irresponsible' and 'insulting'.

And I have complained about the weather, which is cold. English goose-pimple cold.

And I've had a Tuesday grumble about Hitler's art class, which is as fun as being forced to drink a glass of mud, three times a day.

Dig, meanwhile, has had an excellent full-length gripe about the Post Office. He sent a letter of complaint to a company who thought it a good idea to rip several hundred pounds out of our bank account for a service we don't want, and have previously cancelled. Dig sent the letter of complaint by recorded delivery, only the Post Office seemed to fail to record it, but then later claimed Thomas had signed for it.

There you go, all the usual grumbles. And yet Grit is still smiling. So you may be wondering why the lack of grievance?

It is because today, Shark, Squirrel and Tiger took San and mummy Grit into the woods where, with En's little sister Zee, all four girls proceeded to chase En into the undergrowth, whooping. They ran through ditches, hedges, over trees and through puddles to get a hold of him. A good runner, he has cunning tricks up his sleeve to avoid capture, like shouting 'OWL!' at the top of his voice, whereupon all the girls turn to look, and En runs off.

Eventually the ferocious woman tribe chased the outlaw En fifteen meters up to tree-top height. Shark, Squirrel and Tiger pinned him down and squealed with delight, crying 'What shall we do with him!' to which Zee replied, steadily, her eye on the target, finger pointing, shouted 'Sacrifice him!'

And not a word of complaint was uttered all afternoon. Even when Zee fell in the river.

Building the sacrificial flame