this is the bbc

here is a picture of my boy doing a passable impression of a 1950s tennis umpire. why, you may ask, did that occur to him? i am not sure. it all started with the smiths lesson, which, as regular readers will recall, is delivered twice a week by mr snake charmer. as the young snake charmer needs an eye kept on her after school she comes along too.

smiths went well. when it was time to go, the young snake charmer wanted to stay a bit longer. she and my boy were in the middle of building some rather odd things out of wood. mrs snake charmer was at the golf course being given an award for hitting a thing called a hole in one a few weeks ago. this is apparently something of a feat in golfing circles. it does not involve hitting the holes but rather hitting a ball down the hole.

mr snake charmer and himself said they were going to pop down to the off licence to buy some beers. something about the look in himself's eye led herself to believe that they may have planned to pop into the pub on the way past. herself was not keen on being the only adult in the house when my boy and the young snake charmer were in full creative flow, particularly if the other adults in question were away for some time, so everyone accompanied them to the off licence, just to be on the safe side. mr snake charmer said that herself was demonstrating a lamentably suspicious streak. herself said that life had made her that way. on the way back herself said that, while they must have cut something of a funny sight, at least the outing made for good blog fodder.

safely back at home, the peeps, or more accurately himself, set about making curry. by now mrs snake charmer had tracked down the missing members of her family and was on her way round, with her golfing trophy. the evening was beginning to turn into something of a celebration. there were a number of things to celebrate. herself has been offered an interview for a job that would help considerably with the peeps' financial ruin. himself has been offered more hours at work. then there was the golf trophy. and last but by no means least, was that herself had finally got the results of the tests on the chew-mer on young dave's elbow. the chew-mer could have been several things, one of which would not have been good. but it is a nice type of chew-mer which should go away on its own. if it doesn't take the hint young dave will have to have a little op. but at least young dave is not poorly.

anyway, due to the air of celebration, my boy decided to get out the ladder and do an impression of a 1950s tennis umpire. i am not sure where this came from but it was very funny. he started to speak in a posh voice, with very clipped tones and began by saying that this was the british broadcasting corporation and that the score was 17 - 7. the main reason for this particular score was that he has a rather amusing way of saying 'seven' which he acquired from a tv programme and which he likes to use wherever humanly possible. it was pointed out that tennis is not scored in this way but has scores that are rounded up to the nearest 10, or 5, but my boy persisted in commentating on the imaginary match with scores that included the number 7 to great amusement all round.

then the young snake charmer took over the ladder and started to do impressions of the angel of the north statue. here is a picture of one of them.


at last it was time to eat. by this time young dave and i were worn out. we were very pleased to see the tools put away too. while young dave is partial to munching a bit of sandpaper, we both find the hammering interferes with our sleep. i just hope the young folk don't get into sculpture...