Edition 2.

Miss Tickle successfully predicts environmental awareness. One light bulb for all!

And more delightful maths!

And chiefs!

I sincerely do not know what more, dear readers, you could desire.

An announcement.

I find my mother-in-law tricky.

End of announcement.

Edition 1.

So.

When you move house, you find things.

I give you, dear readers, for your entertainment and delectation:

UNDERWATERWORLD.

A series.

By Miss Tickle, aged 9.

PS. I remember quite clearly drawing around my protractor.

PPS. I was always exact.

PPPS. If you click on it, you can make it bigger, which will give you a fighting chance of reading the teeny-tiny writing, and, what's more, admiring my extremely good grasp of maths.

The Weird Cat

Is eating pea soup.

And earning her title.

Also (and with swearing) those wildnerness cookery people are utter cunts.

I mean really.

Guy and Thomasina.

Misspent yoof

The dancing child was called Angel.

And here are some more Names of Yoof I have recently stumbled upon in my new position as Drama Animateur (I do not understand this title. I do no drawing. I do theatre! Theatre, I say!) in a school near the seaside.

1) Paisley
2) Shelby
3) Harley
4) Jared
5) Jordan
6a) Taylor
6b) Tyler

I do not mind Jared, for I was once desperately in love with Jared Leto, although this was in the early nineties while he was the brooding and delicious Jordan Catalano, an angsty teenage girl's dream in My So Called Life, an excellent angsty and delicious teenage programme.

You would think that by association, I would not mind Jordan either. But this is not the case.

I will certainly add to this list as and when I come across more of the anthropological mysteries of East Sussex.

They do things differently here.

PS. I was delighted to discover last night that Robin Hood is back on our screens! It is a truly appalling programme. But the sweet joy of watching Jonas Armstrong far outweighs the crap acting, the thin narrative and the dire script. Not to mention the frequent and ditressing anachronisms. Two Ronnies quotes anyone?
PPS. It has just struck me that Jonas Armstrong and Jared Leto do not look dissimilar, and further, hub bears a passing resemblance to both! I have a type! A beardy type!

I cannot think of a title. So there.

I am sorry for the radio silence. I am a Bad Blogger. Naughty Miss T.

It is all the new stuff, you see. Everywhere! New! It is very exciting. I am doing a lot of frolicking. And just as much chasing of the Bill People.

Damn the Bill People.

And also the Estate Agents.

Grr.

Have you heard tell of this song "I like all the girls"?

It is not a great masterpiece.

But yesterday, in a shop, a small girl was dancing to it.

She was very sweet.

Her father said, "Angel, stop that now."

I thought, "Angel. Blimey."

The little girl (Angel) stopped. And thought.

Then she started dancing again.

And singing.

"Daddy likes all the girls. Daddy likes all the girls."

I did a sort of a cross between a snigger and a chuckle.

I do not know what you would call it.

Snickle?

I liked it.

We move to the seaside.

I drove this. At about forty miles an hour. All the way to Brighton. (The forty miles an hour bit was not by choice you understand. Oh no. If I could have sped like a speedy bullety thing, I certainly would have done. Oh yes I would.)



We put everything we own into one room. I did not like this bit. (Or the bit before if I am entirely honest with you.)







I was not the only one who did not like it. The Weird Cat was pretty unhappy too.







Coming soon: A Happy Ending.