Music Group

Yesterday’s corner time: 9 Minutes.

Dad took the morning off work and took Becca and me to music group.

Unfortunately, I think I may have ruined any chances that I may have had of receiving some Christmas presents this year after I attacked Father Christmas.

Actually, it wasn’t really Father Christmas at all but a man dressed up to look like him. My suspicions were first aroused when he was unable to name all of Santa’s reindeers but they were most definitely confirmed when his beard fell off.

“Hey! It’s not really Father Christmas! It’s, it’s an impostor. Everybody, get him!” screamed my Dad.

I didn’t need inviting twice. In fact, I don’t normally need inviting once but it always helps.

Later on, in a reflective mood, Dad explained how it’s deemed socially unacceptable to do what we did unless you’re a professional wrestler. And even then, it’s still only acceptable if actually in a wrestling match at the time.

Apparently, it’s completely unacceptable to do what Becca did, even if you’re a wrestler in a wrestling match. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get the hang of social etiquette.

Also, I’ve noticed that my Dad always saves the most important snippets of information until it’s too late. Had he shared this with me at the time, then perhaps we wouldn’t all be barred from music group.

Dad and I have a two month suspension and Becca has received a lifetime ban.

Matthew.

Au Revoir

Yesterday’s corner time: 4 Minutes.

Emily has now moved to Scotland. Needless to say, I’m completely devastated. It took at least half an hour and the prospect of some custard to snap me out of my longest bout of depression to date.

Dad said Emily’s going to live with the Loch Ness Monster but I’ve always found her Mother to be quite nice. Dad also said that it wasn’t really goodbye, just Au Revoir.

As we were talking Au Revoir, I thought I should give Emily a French kiss. I wasn’t quite sure how to perform one of these but I knew that it involved using tongues. So, I licked Emily all over her face.

I think she was impressed but it was hard to tell as she kept trying to bat me away. She’s certainly a feisty one and as she tried to make her escape, I managed to leap on her back, eventually wrestling her to the floor. But, before I could kiss her again, she managed to wriggle free and ran screaming into the kitchen.

Hmm, the lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Nanna says that when my Dad was a lot younger, he used to leap on girls quite a bit too, which is probably where I get it from. Apparently, he only stopped in his mid-twenties, when he was eventually arrested.

I don’t feel rested at all yet, so I’ll continue with this approach for the time being.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Emily, Bubbly, Hard to Get, Play Date, Overbearing, Madness, Aftershave, Moving Away, Nectar

Snowbiz

Yesterday’s corner time: 0 Minutes.

I’m on my best behaviour at the moment because apparently, Father Christmas is watching and he doesn’t look favourably upon little boys torturing their even littler sisters. I’m also a little concerned that he may reject many of the items on my Christmas list:

1) New Sword – Becca’s head has bent my current one.
2) Chainsaw – Let’s see her head dent this.
3) Axe - Just in case.
4) Train set.
5) Spiderman outfit.

I’ve just landed the plum role of third snowflake in my pre-school nativity play. I did have a plan for an unfortunate accident to befall snowflakes 1 and 2 thereby improving my snowflake ranking but I decided to put it in on hold, just in case Father Christmas might notice.

Initially, I tried to completely immerse myself in my role, drawing upon past experiences and emotions in order to bring some real depth to the part. I shed my Matthew persona and actually became Snowflake No. 3.

This meant that I had to be very quiet and float everywhere, as Snowflakes don’t tend to run around shouting a lot and harassing their sisters. Therefore, I soon decided to dispense with the method approach and have instead decided to just wing it on the day.

Surely, this shouldn’t be too difficult. A song and a simple dance routine, what can possibly go wrong?

Matthew.

Related Posts: I Am Gladiator, Kill or Cure, Soldier

Relaxed

Yesterday's corner time: 4 Minutes.

Thanks to everyone who left a message enquiring where I've been. It's nice to be actually missed for once.

So, where have I been? I've been hiding upstairs, underneath my bed for the last four weeks after my Dad suggested we play a game of Hide and Seek.

I eventually gave up all hope of being found and traipsed downstairs into the lounge, only to find both Mum and Dad, with their feet up, sipping cocktails and looking very relaxed.

"There you are! Found you! I'll count to 100 and you go and hide again." said Dad.

I was just about to tell Dad what he could do with his game of hide and seek, when I was knocked violently sideways as Becca sped past on my red sports car.

She pulled to a rest, dismounted, grabbed her tropical fruit juice and sank back into her miniature deck chair without even giving me a sideways glance. Et tu Becca.

It appears that things have been allowed to slip in my absence.

Matthew.

Tagged

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

There was an incident last week, which I haven’t yet mentioned. Once again, I became lost at Chessington World of Adventures.

Mum was walking along chatting to her friend and I stopped to look at a stone on the floor. I thought that this would be a perfect addition to my collection. However, on looking up, Mum was nowhere in sight.

Therefore, I did what any sensible three year old would do. I turned around and walked in completely the opposite direction.

Meanwhile, Mum was frantically looking for me and after 15 minutes, contacted Park Security. Eventually, I was found and was fortunately reunited with my Mum and less fortunately, with Becca also.

The reason why I mention this now is that as a result, I have been tagged. Electronically tagged.

Severe you might think and possibly an infringement of human liberties but not according to my Dad. He believes this will help increase his life expectancy and reduce the number of heart stopping moments.

I’ve got a little tag which is fastened to my belt and starts beeping if I stray too far away from my parents. They also have a hand held sensor device, which alerts them that I’m trying to escape, leading them to my exact location.

This is ruining my games of hide and seek.

In a few months time, I’ll have mastered the dexterity required to undo my belt and instead, I’ll strap it to a whippet.

Let’s see how my Dad’s heart copes with tracking that.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Lost

Soldier

Yesterday’s corner time: 1 Minute.

We went to visit Windsor Castle on Sunday, so that I could see some real soldiers.

Security was pretty tight at the entrance but I still managed to smuggle in my plastic sword.

I even managed to sneak it past the sniffer dogs but I think the contents of Becca’s nappy may have de-sensitized them. One poor Cocker-Spaniel obviously inhaled a little too deeply when checking her, causing it to reel backwards, eyes watering and spluttering.

It wasn’t too long before I spied my first sentry, guarding one of the gates to the Queen’s residence. He stood very still, holding a special gun with a sharp knife on the top against his shoulder. I’ll have to add one of these to my Christmas list.

Anyway, I strolled casually up to him and enquired as to how his day was proceeding but he didn’t respond. Ok, perhaps he hadn’t heard me, so I shouted it. Still no response. How rude. I was just about to clout him across the shins with my sword when, luckily for the Soldier, Dad intervened.

At this point, the Soldier stamped his foot, did some fancy manoeuvres with his rifle and marched up and down the path, returning to his original position. Scary.

Dad tried to encourage me to stand next to him, so that I could have my picture taken. I told him that he had to be kidding but Dad persisted whispering that the Soldier wouldn’t hurt me and if he tried, then he would stop him.

“You’ll fight the soldier?” I shouted out. This sounded good. Everyone nearby looked around, they obviously thought this sounded good too.

The soldier didn’t move but his eyes flicked across to where we were standing.

“What! Fight? No, no, no – of course I’m not going to fight the soldier!” Dad countered in a rather high-pitched voice and then added in a slightly deeper tone whilst trying to laugh nonchalantly, “Don’t be so silly!”

“You said you would fight the soldier and win,” I wasn’t letting up.

Dad hauled me off in the opposite direction and threatened to stick my sword somewhere the sun never shines. Apparently, he didn’t mean England. How rude.

Matthew.

Countdown

Yesterday’s corner time: 4 Minutes.

I snuck into Dad’s office yesterday and hid his daily countdown to my Outward bound course, which was at 2187. Ha! Let’s see how he manages without that!

I was disappointed to see that he had anticipated this move and had three backup copies locked away in a drawer. Not only that but I also discovered that he has an electronic version stored on his PC, which pops up a happy little reminder each time he signs on and is programmed to sound a fanfare on the passing of each week.

I went to complain to Mum and she was absolutely furious. She stormed upstairs to his office and demanded to know what was he thinking? How could he be so inconsiderate? And why hadn’t she been given a copy of the electronic version?

Hmm, not quite the reaction I had expected.

I thought I’d cheer myself up by spending time with someone less fortunate than me and went in search of Becca.

Becca is becoming more annoying with each passing day. Just when I think she’s reached the pinnacle of annoyingness, she manages to surpass all expectations and takes annoying to new and even dizzier heights.

However, today I needed her. I found her in the lounge developing a countdown timer on her abacus. God, she’s annoying.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Outward Bound

Outward Bound

Yesterday’s corner time: 6 Minutes.

In the morning, I had to visit a school with my parents. I’m not quite sure why but they kept asking me if I liked it. They don’t normally ask my opinion but they seemed very keen to do so yesterday, which was nice of them.

Thinking about it, I appear to be spending a lot more time at pre-school nowadays. I always seem to be going. I don’t really have a good concept of time but I’m sure that I’m attending far more often than before.

I think this may be part of a larger conspiracy by my parents to get rid of me. The Head Teacher of the school yesterday described how the older kids go away for a week’s outward bound course. I overheard Dad whispering to Mum that he couldn’t wait and that it was only six years away. He was quite excited.

In the afternoon, as it was raining, we visited an indoor play area and met up with Emily.

I was running around so much that I became very, very sweaty. So sweaty in fact that Mum decided to swap my tracksuit trousers for a spare pair of Emily’s pink shorts.

At that precise moment, any remaining street credibility that I may have had disappeared along with my tracksuit into my Mum’s bag. What was she thinking? It was social suicide.

To compensate, I had to whack anyone who gave me a second look. But as these numbered quite a few, it took up all my time.

When I got home, I wandered into Dad’s office hoping for a sympathetic ear only to find that he’s started a daily countdown chart to the outward bound course. It’s set to 2190.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Moving Away

Composition

Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes.

I’m not quite sure of the exact timeline but I think it goes something like this:

First there came Baby Mozart. Then there was Big Mozart. Sometime after that came a couple of chaps called Lennon and McCartney. They were in the Beatles. I like Beatles but I prefer spiders.

Anyway, I digress. I’m not quite sure what that means but Dad says I do it a lot. I think I might be doing it again right now. I just can’t help myself. Any available opportunity and off I go, digressing.

Anyway, before I do it again, the Beatles wrote some good songs as did Baby Mozart. Big Mozart was alright but not really my cup of tea.

Well, I’ve now followed in their footsteps and penned my first composition. I’m quite proud of it and I don’t think I’d be exaggerating too much if I referred to it as a masterpiece.

Admittedly, some of the imagery could be considered to be basic and I’ve repeated some of the verses but all in all, I think it demonstrates my genius.

Here it is:

Custard, Custard, Custard, Custard – I love Custard
Custard, Custard, Custard, Custard – I love Custard
Hello, Hello, Jelly, Jelly, Jelly

Repeat 30 Times.

Custard is a difficult word to rhyme but fortunately, I discovered that it rhymes very well with itself.

My song received its first airing at dinner last night. By the end of the song, Dad had covered his ears and was screaming “No More, No more”. I misheard him and thought he had said “Encore, Encore.”

Becca seemed to enjoy it although that may have had something to do with the bowl of custard on her head.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Nectar

Nectar

Yesterday’s corner time: 4 Minutes.

As I get older, my palate is definitely becoming more sophisticated and I’m developing a distinct ability to detect the complex flavours that constitute most of my meals.

I am also able to identify which ingredients work well together and to recommend combinations that will bring out the best of each of the individual components.

Through exhaustive experimentation and numerous tastings, I have developed an extensive, encyclopaedic knowledge of cooking and I can now be quite bold with some of my culinary creations.

Virtually all of my dishes revolve around one secret ingredient – Custard.

I’ve yet to find a bad pairing involving this nectar like substance. My favourite is fruit smothered with Custard. To be honest, I’m not too fond of the fruit bits but it’s easy to push them out of the way and it acts as a good delivery mechanism for the Custard.

Becca actually prefers strawberries. When being offered one, she tends to open her mouth so wide that she almost dislocates her jaw. If she holds her mouth open for too long, it starts attracting matter in a similar manner to a black hole, placing the whole universe in jeopardy.

I discovered yesterday that emptying a bowl of Custard over her head enhances even Becca. However, Mum disagreed.

Matthew.

Moving Away

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

On Friday, I went to Chessington World of Adventures again with Emily. Call me picky if you like but I’ve been less inclined to meet up with her ever since she accused me of smelling of pooh.

The morning went well but at lunch time, she delivered some devastating news. She’s moving 600 miles away to Scotland.

I couldn’t believe that I smelled so badly to warrant such a drastic measure. I immediately tried to reassure her that I had dispensed with dousing myself with Dad’s aftershave and instead preferred going au naturale.

She wasn’t too impressed by this revelation but she shared that the decision to up sticks was less to do with my bodily odours and more to do with her parents desire to live somewhere full of Scottish people.

Emily said that I can go and visit but I’m not sure long distance relationships work. It was bad enough when she lived on the other side of town, let alone in another country.

I think that her Dad might actually be one of these Scottish types. My Dad said that perhaps we’ve all had a lucky escape, as we would have probably ended up paying for the wedding. I’m not quite sure why he should say this.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Emily, Bubbly, Hard to Get, Play Date, Overbearing, Madness, Aftershave

Wipeout

Yesterday’s corner time: 4 Minutes.

Becca is turning out to be quite accident prone. Especially, it seems, when she’s in my presence.

Take yesterday for example, when we were both out in the garden playing. I was on my rope swing and she was pootling around doing whatever she does, when she inadvertently wandered into my path.

Naturally, as I was in mid-swing there was very little I could do and I slammed into her back, wiping her out.

Although slightly winded and with a mouthful of play bark, Becca was quickly back up on her feet but unfortunately, she was just in time for my return swing. This time, I caught her under her chin, lifting her clean off her feet.

Becca’s screams filled the local neighbourhood like an air raid siren. Mum came running and I immediately protested my innocence. I tend to do this now even when it’s nothing to do with me.

Luckily, she had heard my warning shouts to Becca and so believed my claims that it was all a terrible accident.

This has me wondering that if in future, I shout warnings to Becca before whacking her, will I be able to escape punishment? I’ll try this out soon.

Matthew.

Chef

Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes.

Dad spent a lot Saturday cooking. Yes, that’s right, cooking. Yes, I do know what cooking is and Dad was doing quite a lot of it on Saturday.

Apparently, he has been known to do this before, although not during my lifetime, so this was a first for me. I pulled up a chair and watched in amazement as he dashed around the kitchen in something which he referred to as “Organized Chaos” but which Mum said was more akin to “Disorganized Chaos”. Dad has long been a supporter of chaos theory and here it was demonstrated perfectly.

Dad describes his culinary genius as Cordon Bleu but Mum suggested that it was probably more Cordon Noir judging by the charred remains in most of the dishes.

Despite my protests, Mum just left him to it. I wasn’t sure if our kitchen would ever look the same again. I don’t think she could bear to watch. Eventually, even I had to leave and retire to a safe distance. I decided that behind the sofa was the best bet.

Uncle Simon and Aunty Fabienne were the unfortunate guinea pigs or, as Dad preferred to call them, guests. They had been lured to our house unaware that Dad would be preparing their evening fare.

Therefore, it was with great apprehension that everyone sat down at the table that evening. However, the apprehension was soon replaced by surprise and then by downright enjoyment, when the food not only turned out to be fit for human consumption but was actually quite delicious.

The remainder of the courses went without a hitch and the evening was only marred by the arrival of a Pizza delivery which Mum had forgotten to cancel on discovering that the meal was edible.

Matthew.

Ear we go again

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

Dad had a frog in his throat yesterday, although I couldn’t see anything and I’m not quite sure how it got there. I assume that he was sitting watching TV with his mouth wide open as usual and that it hopped right in.

I guess he was lucky that it was only a frog and not something larger, such as small dog. However, I think that a dog would only have squeezed in if he were yawning at the time.

The dog would also have had to escape the clutches of Becca, animal lover extraordinaire. She has a tendency to first lure them into a false sense of security by gently stroking their head and patting their back before attempting to rip their ears off.

Becca seems to have a penchant for ears at the moment and unfortunately, not just those of the canine variety. She is also particularly partial to mine, which is quite upsetting.

It’s not that my ears are especially big because they’re not. Well, at least they weren’t before Becca started to tug on them at every available opportunity. I think this is revenge for when I used to treat her as horse. Yesterday, she actually lifted both her feet off the ground as she clung on.

Anyway, I had to put her in her place after that and that place was upside down in the dustbin.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Revalations?, Giddy Up, Horseplay

All Camped Out

Yesterday’s corner time: 1 Minute.

We went camping again over the weekend and amazingly it didn’t rain once. I think that this will be the final expedition of the year, now that it’s starting to turn colder.

The trip to the campsite took 1hr 45 minutes of which, the first 15 minutes were spent sitting on the drive of our house whilst Mum kept returning to the house to retrieve items that she had forgotten to pack.

I’m not very good at maths as I still can’t count but Dad said that this represented 1/7th of our total journey time. Mum said that the 15 minutes would represent approximately 50% of his remaining life expectancy if he didn’t stop mentioning the previous statistic.

The weather was glorious but at night it became very, very cold. We only had summer sleeping bags and the sound of teeth chattering kept everyone awake. It turned out that the chattering teeth actually belonged to a passing hedgehog, which just goes to show just how cold it was.

The next day, Dad went straight down to a local camp shop and emerged equipped with new and rather expensive looking sleeping bags that wouldn’t be out of place at Everest base camp.

That night we were all very cosy in our new bags, in fact, possibly too cosy. I was kept awake by the constant zipping and unzipping of Dad’s sleeping bag as he alternated between the extremes of heat stroke and frostbite.

Dad says that next year we’re going to the Mediterranean.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Tent, Camping, Camping Trip

Economics

Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes.

I’ve noticed that my Dad has been very busy lately, working long hours late into the night.

As well as restricting my access to the computer it has also meant that we haven’t been able to spend much time together.

After I hadn’t seen him all day yesterday, I decided that enough was enough. I marched upstairs to his office and demanded an audience.

He said that he was very busy but that a window of opportunity may open up between 7:00pm and 7:10pm. Either that or I could email him.

I said that this just wasn’t good enough and that he had to see me now. Dad then picked me up and sat me on his knee. Apparently, it was time that I learnt a little bit about economics.

I prayed that this wasn’t going to be like the talk that my friend Charlie had with his parents after asking them where he came from. That didn’t sound very nice at all. Dad has always said that I had been given away free with a packet of cornflakes at Walmart. That was good enough for me.

Luckily, economics was all about money and toys. Two of my favourite subjects although I’m not quite sure what money is.

Dad explained that he had to work to earn money. The money paid for my house, my food, my clothes, my toys and my sweets. If he didn’t work hard, then he wouldn’t be paid and I’d have to make do without toys and sweets.

Dad said that he understood that I might prefer to spend more time with him than have lots of toys.

What! Is he kidding? Of course I wouldn’t want less toys. I made this pretty clear to him and then queried if he had enough time to be sitting around chatting with me. After all, we can't have him distracted from the important business of earning me more toys.

Matthew.

Kill or Cure

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

Dad’s foot is still causing him a lot of discomfort following the game of tennis that he played over a week ago.

Apparently, the pain increased to such a point on Friday that he had to go out and drink copious quantities of beer with Uncle Bill.

It appears that his injury didn’t hinder his movement between the bars. Although, according to Mum, he was having difficulty walking when he returned home, as he had to crawl up the stairs on his hands and knees. Poor Dad.

However, on Saturday morning, he claimed that the pain had returned and he had to lie on the sofa for the majority of the day. Worse still, the pain seemed to have spread from his foot to his head.

There was no way he was going to be able to make it to see a doctor, so the doctor would have to come to him. I went off to my cupboard to retrieve my medical kit.

Despite his requests for me to leave him alone, I could tell that Dad was pleased that he was at last going to benefit from some specialist care.

I commenced my treatment slightly unconventionally by giving him a haircut. I then tried to extract a tooth with some pliers. Finally, I tested his reflexes by whacking him across the shins with my sword.

Dad grabbed the sword’s scabbard and began to defend himself. Hmm, good reflexes but I couldn’t have him questioning my treatment, so a sword fight ensued. Naturally, I won this when I rapped him across the knuckles, forcing him to drop his weapon and surrender.

Dad had to call out to Mum to rescue him. I don’t think he appreciated my holistic approach.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Tennis Foot

Badger

Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes.

Matthew: “I want a badger.”

Dad: “No, you can’t have a badger.”

Matthew: “I want a badger now.”

Dad: “Not now. Not ever.”

Matthew: “But I really want a badger.”

Dad: “No.”

Matthew: “What’s a badger?”

Matthew: “I want a badger and I want one now!”

Dad: “Stop badgering me.”

Matthew.

Is it a bird?

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

Nanna has bought me a Superman costume, giving me delusions of grandeur. I now only answer to Superman or alternatively, from close friends and other superheroes, Supey.

I’m hoping that my latest incarnation as the Man of Steel will help to impress Emily. However, I don’t think the outfit by itself will be enough. I think I’ll need to do some heroic stuff too to really clinch it.

I’ve been practicing at home. The first hurdle was finding a damsel in distress that wouldn’t mind being in distress until I could perfect my rescues. I looked around everywhere: under the sofa, behind the curtains and in the garden but I couldn’t find a damsel anywhere.

Eventually, I resigned myself to having to use Becca. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in distress but that could easily be remedied.

I rigged up a large catapult like device, placed Becca into the sling and fired her across the garden.

As she flew through the air, I screamed out “Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s Superman!” at which point I realized that it should have been me that did the flying and not the damsel.

Faster than a speeding bullet, I ran to where Becca’s feet were protruding from the hedge. She definitely appeared to be distressed now. Perfect.

I stood and postured for a while with chest thrust forward and hands on hips pronouncing “Do not fear, Superman is here!” before finally dragging her out of the bush.

This flawed experiment certainly helped to reinforce the importance of practice. Just imagine if I had made such a rudimentary mistake with Emily. I think even Superman may have struggled to save our relationship then.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Emily, Bubbly, Hard to Get, Play Date, Overbearing, Madness, Aftershave

Tennis Foot

Yesterday’s corner time: 7 Minutes.

Well, predictably, Dad returned home yesterday from the Tennis club hobbling. The only surprising thing about this, considering his proneness to injury, was that he was actually still alive.

Apparently, having safely completed two sets before poor light stopped play, it was on his way to the net to shake his opponent’s hand that he somehow managed to cripple himself.

After hurting himself playing golf, I think Dad was reluctant to admit that he had sustained yet another injury and initially, pretended that nothing was wrong. It was only after he howled with pain when Becca knelt on his foot as she stormed past him on the stairs, that the truth came to light.

It was bad enough when Dad fell down a hole playing golf but it now appears that even walking is a potentially hazardous pastime.

Dad always compares his body to a highly coiled spring - a finely tuned and supremely fit piece of apparatus that treads the fine line between outstanding performance and hospitalization.

Mum compares his body to that of a knackered horse that should be shot as an act of mercy by anyone who happens to be passing.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Anyone for Tennis?

Gloating

Yesterday’s corner time: 8 Minutes.

I’m getting rather fed up of Becca gloating whenever I’m in the corner. I get put in the corner for whacking her. She gloats at me. I whack her again which results in even more corner time. She then gloats some more and so on.

Dad says it’s a vicious circle. After his revelation the other day about plants that attack, I’m more than slightly disturbed to discover that geometry also has its nasty side. What about the other shapes? Can rectangles be spiteful? Can squares be cruel? I like the sound of love triangles though.

For the time being, I think I’ll stick with astronomy. Mum and Dad have stuck some fluorescent stars and planets on my bedroom ceiling and they glow at night when I’m going to sleep.

I heard on the news today that after several weeks of discussions, a group of world renowned astronomers have finally reached a consensus and agree that Pluto is not actually a planet.

Of course Pluto isn’t a planet, he’s a dog! I thought these guys were supposed to be clever. I could have saved them all the time and trouble.

What are they going to debate next? Whether or not Goofy is an asteroid? I hope when I grow up I can spend weeks discussing cartoon characters too. That sounds like a very good job.

In the meantime, where can I find one of these love triangles?

Matthew.

Related Posts: Ambush

Ambush

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

Dad mostly works form home, travelling into the office one or two days every week.

Yesterday, he arrived home slightly earlier than usual with a graze above his left eye. After much interrogation, he eventually explained how he had received his injury. It appears that a new and rather large potted plant had been placed in a corridor where previously there had been none.

As he doesn’t venture into his office that frequently, this new herbaceous obstacle had caught Dad rather by surprise. He claims that he didn’t, in fact, walk into the plant but that it had instead, leapt out from behind a filing cabinet and ambushed him. However, I wasn’t convinced.

Dad maintained that this was the true course of events leading to his grazed forehead and went on to explain that the term “ambushed” originally meant “one who is attacked by a shrub”.

Hmm, that sounded more plausible. Perhaps, he was telling the truth after all.

I’m now a bit worried about going out into the garden, in case I’m ambushed. I’ve whacked hell out of most of the trees with my sword, so I’m probably due some payback.

Matthew.

GPS

Yesterday’s corner time: 4 Minutes.

We actually missed our ferry back to England on our return from France.

Dad has recently bought one of these new global positioning systems which allow him to pinpoint his exact location anywhere in the world.

I don’t know why he just doesn’t ask me, as I’m generally sat directly behind him and can tell him precisely where he is, which is normally in the front seat of our car. Sometimes, I think he just buys gadgets for the sheer sake of it.

So, it was surprising when six minutes 40 seconds away from the port of Calais, Dad took a wrong turning onto a toll road bearing towards Paris. This unplanned detour added an extra 40 minutes to our journey time, resulting in our missed departure.

For some unknown reason, Dad believed that I was responsible for this deviation. I’m not sure why I should be blamed for us heading off in the wrong direction, especially when he has state of the art technology guiding him.

Was I bombarding him with senseless questions distracting him from listening to the GPS?

Well, perhaps.

Was I shouting about not wanting to go home but at the same time demanding to immediately see Nanna and Grandad John?

Hmm, quite possibly.

Was I responsible for launching my Superman doll into the front of the car, dislodging the GPS from the windscreen at the crucial moment?

Definitely not. It slipped out of my hand. I can’t be held accountable for its greasy surface.

When I heard the GPS mumbling something about Paris from the floor of the Car, I enquired if we were taking the scenic route to Calais at which point, Dad suggested that he was going to take my Superman doll and shove it somewhere that was far from picturesque.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Camping Trip

Camping Trip

Yesterday’s corner time: 0 Minutes.

No corner time yesterday as I was travelling back from a long weekend away camping in France. Having said that, I think I actually prefer corner time to travelling, as it generally doesn’t involve me having to listen to Becca either singing or snoring for hours on end.

Mum likes to take us camping to give us some memories that we will cherish for the rest of our lives. Well, I’ll certainly remember driving for six hours through heavy rain to camp in a wet French field next to over a hundred other British people.

Despite it being August, we had an awful lot of rain. I’m beginning to think that camping is another word for a torrential downpour followed by flash floods.

We went with my friends and their parents, Aunty Su and Uncle Bill, so we still had a great time. On Sunday, in a rare dry spell, we visited the local zoo. I especially enjoyed the train that took us around the park. All the commentary was in French but Uncle Bill kindly translated.

I didn’t know that Uncle Bill knew French but he seemed to understand the Guide’s narrative regarding the animals. According to Uncle Bill, we passed Funny Goats, Funny Dogs, Funny Cows and some Tigers. I’m assuming that the Tigers weren’t funny at all.

I never realised that Uncle Bill was such a keen naturalist and apparently, he particularly enjoys ornithology because Dad says that he has always had an eye for the birds. This probably explains why, on several occasions, I overheard him pointing out some Great Tits to my Dad.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Tent, Camping

Aftershave

Yesterday’s corner time: 1 Minute.

So, apparently I smell of pooh. This insightful and rather disturbing observation was made by Emily. This was definitely not the impression that I was hoping to make and unfortunately, I don’t think she was referring to Winnie.

This was during a walk in the woods and when we got back home, I first checked the underneath of my shoes before rushing upstairs to check my brand of aftershave, or rather Dad’s.

No mention of pooh on the label. Perhaps, I hadn’t administered enough. So, just to be sure, I doused myself with the remaining half a bottle. Now, just let anyone accuse me of smelling of pooh.

“You smell of pooh”, volunteered Emily again as I strode confidently into the kitchen, flammable aftershave fumes trailing behind me. Dad immediately screamed for everyone to get as far away from me as possible and that under no circumstances, should anyone light a match.

Things had moved on quite dramatically from being told that I smelt of pooh to being a potential explosive fire hazard. Aunty Su, who was also visiting at the time, was all for phoning the fire brigade but Mum quickly hid the phone.

I glared at Emily as I was marched outside and made to stand down wind from everyone else. She smiled knowingly back and mouthed the word “pooh” through the glass patio doors.

The course of true love rarely runs smoothly and whoever charted this particular course needs a new compass.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Fire Station, Hoax Calls, Madness

Icy Waters

Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes.

A strange thing happened yesterday, I caught Mum and Dad hugging. I’m not used to seeing them demonstrate affection towards each other and instead, assumed that Mum must be attacking Dad.

My first instinct was to save him. I quickly looked around and picked up the nearest thing to hand, which just happened to be Becca, and belted Mum across the back of the legs. This had the desired effect but unfortunately, Mum then turned her attention to me.

In the afternoon, once she had forgiven me, Mum took us to visit Grandma Gerry and Grandad Peter who were house sitting. The house had a swimming pool and I was very excited. Grandpa Peter had confirmed that the water temperature was alright, so I leapt straight in.

However, the water was absolutely b#’$%y freezing. I think even a penguin wearing gloves, a scarf and possibly even a wetsuit would have taken a sharp intake of breath on diving into this pool.

I was instantly paralysed and could hardly draw breath. Meanwhile, my brave relations were hurriedly skirting around the side of the pool, unwilling to jump in themselves having just seen my reaction to the icy waters. In the end, a rubber ring was thrown in to me and I was fished out.

In future, when Grandad Peter suggests that anything is “alright”, including water temperature, I shall seek a second opinion and throw Becca in first.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Chocolate and lots of it

Madness

Yesterday’s corner time: 5 Minutes.

Am I going mad? Am I losing my mind? Am I ill? I think I must be because, since Becca’s been walking, I’m actually kind of enjoying her company.

Just in case I was sickening for something, I tried taking my temperature. During a farm visit the other day, I’d seen a vet do this when he was treating a sick pig. So, I knew what to do.

However, try as I might, I just couldn’t seem to get Mum’s yoghurt thermometer up my bottom. Eventually, I gave up and put the thermometer back in the kitchen before Mum noticed it was missing.

I had visited the farm with Emily. This was our third official play date and she is now my longest girlfriend by two and a half dates.

She’s certainly no push over and is more than a match for me. Her Mum describes her as a stunning blonde and, as I found after attempting another kiss, this proved to be an accurate description when she caught me with a right hook, knocking me out cold for two whole minutes.

Dad once told me that it's possible to like someone so much that it actually physically hurts but surely he didn’t mean like this?

I’ll certainly be giving stunning blondes a wider berth in future.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Emily, Bubbly, Hard to Get, Play Date, Overbearing

What's in a Name?

Yesterday’s corner time: 9 Minutes.

I met a boy yesterday who was only slightly younger than me. When I enquired as to his name, there was no response. I asked again but still nothing. I thought that this was very rude. I asked a third time and again, this was met with silence.

Therefore, when his mother eventually replied “Joaquim”, I did so. Repeatedly. But he still refused to surrender his credentials. Who was this guy – a CIA agent?

When I was finally dragged off him, I discovered that “Joaquim” was his name and not an instruction to batter him within an inch of his life. Whoops.

This was a rather unfortunate misunderstanding but judging by the way that he looked, I don’t think that it was the first time that someone had made this mistake. It’s no wonder that he was reluctant to reveal his identity. What were his parents thinking?

It gets even worse when you consider that his surname is “Offen”. Joaquim Offen - the poor chap really doesn’t stand much of a chance.

Dad said that it was fortunate that I wasn’t introduced to his sister, Beata.

Matthew.

Nibbler

Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes.

It turns out that Becca has a penchant for toes. She’s a toe nibbler. No one can relax when she’s in the vicinity but, on the plus side, we’re saving a fortune on pedicures.

Becca seems drawn to toes like a fish to its bait and once she has you locked in her sights, she’s virtually impossible to shake off. Yesterday, I had to climb a tree to flee her.

Even then, she circled the base of the trunk for a good few minutes before becoming distracted by Dad, who having just arrived in from work had unwittingly kicked off his shoes and socks, exposing his succulent flesh.

I waited for his inevitable yelp of pain before deciding it was probably safe to break cover.

I had only taken a few steps before being almost bowled over by Dad, hopping out into the garden clutching his left foot, closely followed by Becca, arms outstretched and teeth gnashing.

I turned and raced back to my tree only to find that Dad had already ensconced himself on my branch. What would I do now? Becca was almost upon me. I was trapped with no visible means of escape.

I backed up against the trunk, closed my eyes and waited. Waited for the nibbling to commence. Next thing I knew, I felt a hand grab my shirt collar and was being hauled upwards. When I reopened my eyes, I was beside Dad on the branch. I’d been saved.

Becca circled below but as dusk fell, she grew tired and eventually fell asleep on the grass, her snores signalling that it was now safe for us to come down.

For the time being, Mum has relaxed her “no shoes on inside the house” policy.

Matthew.

Green Fingers

Yesterday’s corner time: 9 Minutes.

I was in trouble again yesterday for swearing. I was also in trouble for gardening. I was then in trouble for swearing whilst gardening. Or perhaps it was gardening whilst swearing – I’m not quite sure.

In any case, I was doing some painting out in the garden. It was quite a blustery day and my paper kept blowing all over the place. Several of my masterpieces were ruined due to ill-timed gusts.

Luckily, being an abstract surrealist, no one else could really tell but I knew and I could be heard cursing quite loudly. After having being warned about my language, I could then still be heard cursing but less loudly. Apparently, it wasn’t so much about the volume and more about the words.

I decided that the weather conditions were not conducive for art and instead, turned my attention to gardening, weeding all the flower beds. I’m still mostly unsure as to what actually constitutes a weed and played safe by removing everything.

Then, in the space that I had just cleared, I dug a deep hole and buried Becca up to her waist. Unfortunately, I had stood her on her head, so that only her feet protruded and could be seen swaying quite dramatically in the wind.

Obviously, this was far from ideal and I could see Mum frantically gesturing from the Kitchen window for me to immediately remedy the situation. I quickly inserted a stake and attached Becca’s legs.

Problem solved – no more swaying. Phew, that was close.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Art Attack, D.I.Y

Anyone for Tennis?

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

I’m worried about my Dad. I’m worried that he’s going to harm himself. I’m really very concerned.

He’s joined the local Tennis and Squash Club. You may think that this sounds innocent enough but you don’t know my Dad. He seems to be at that age now when, whatever sport he does, he injures himself.

Dad started off with Martial Arts a few years ago, just before I was born. I always thought Martial Arts was like an extreme form of painting, where you had someone standing over you, barking orders as you painted for all your life’s worth. But apparently, it’s not like that at all.

Anyway, Dad was training in Kung Fu and within a few weeks, he had dislocated his thumb. Apparently, this was around the time that I was born and he was unable to lift or carry me for a few weeks. Mum is still quite bitter about this.

Dad carried on with the Kung Fu for quite a while, right up until last year. Following a resolution to get super fit, he ended up in the ER by lunchtime on New Year’s Day. He had ruptured his Achilles tendon whilst out jogging.

Next, he took up golf and fell down a ditch. The ligaments in his left foot were torn and he had to retire from the round. He hasn’t played since. That was last November and his foot is just about better, although his pride still has some way to go.

So, you can see why I’m worried. If a man can injure himself playing golf then surely, Tennis must be life threatening?

Matthew.

Hoax Calls

Yesterday’s corner time: 6 Minutes.

My corner time pales into insignificance following Aunty Su's arrest for placing false calls to the Fire Service.

After the 117th time, they finally took action.

The breakdown is as follows:

• 3 Calls: Thought she could smell gas.
• 12 Calls: Cat stuck in tree. She doesn’t even own a cat. She doesn’t even own a tree. She borrowed Fluky from our neighbour and was spotted tossing him up into a nearby tree by a passing pedestrian.
• 26 Calls - Locked out of her house.
• 32 Calls – Locked out of her house, only wearing her underwear.
• 43 Calls – Locked out of her house, wearing nothing at all.
• 1 Call – Locked out of her house, stuck up a tree, naked, with a cat and thought she could smell gas.

Both the Firemen and the cat had to seek counselling after that last incident.

Aunty Su’s also been arranging for numerous fire safety assessment visits and now has 253 smoke detectors fitted. Her whole family were hospitalized yesterday with perforated eardrums after she burnt some toast.

It took several calls to the emergency services before they eventually realised that it wasn’t a hoax. It wasn’t helped by the fact that due to their injuries, no one in Aunty Su’s family could actually hear anything and kept shouting down the phone.

The judge has awarded Aunty Su five days community service helping out at the local Fire Station. I’m not convinced that this is much of a deterrent.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Fire Station

Fluky

Yesterday’s corner time: 5 Minutes.

Although we have a cat flap through which I shoved Becca last week, we don’t actually own a cat.

I think my parents are reluctant to buy a pet having witnessed my interaction with our neighbour’s cat. It’s called Fluky as it was initially deemed to benefit from good fortune. However, I think that its luck ran out the day that it moved in next to us.

Now, I understand that cats normally have nine lives but by my calculations, Fluky probably only has about seven remaining.

This was partially due to an elementary mistake in assuming that cats were related to catfish. Fluky wasn’t too bad at the doggy paddle but when I insisted that he try the backstroke and then the butterfly, he started to encounter real difficulties.

The coup de grace was strapping a brick to his back to improve its underwater techniques.

After Fluky’s first demise, he never quite looked the same. I’m not quite sure what it was about his appearance that prompts me to say this. It may have had something to do with the fact that he was a different colour, a different size and a different sex.

Fluky certainly also behaved as if he had never laid eyes on me before. Instead of making his usual bolt for the trees, he actually approached me voluntarily and rubbed up against my leg.

Things were still remarkably cordial when a few moments later, Fluky had been bound, gagged and placed between two ramps for me to jump over on my tricycle.

As my wheels left the take-off ramp, I’m sure that I caught a glint of recognition in Fluky’s eyes as he realised that I was going to land woefully short of the landing ramp.

After Fluky’s second demise, Dad suggested that perhaps he should be renamed to something more appropriate, such as Pancake.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Cat Flap

Fire Station

Yesterday’s corner time: 1 Minute.

What a great day - a trip to a Fire Station.

I was very excited and my Mum blackmailed me all day prior to the visit, that if my behaviour wasn’t perfect, then I wouldn’t be allowed to go.

Naturally, this restricted my activities to a large extent, especially with respect to harassing Becca.

When we arrived at the Fire Station, I was initially disappointed to see that I wasn’t the only child there but then spotted some of my friends. It was also strange to see all the Mums looking remarkably smart and grinning inanely at the Firemen.

It soon became apparent that the Mums were somewhat distracted by our hosts. This became ridiculous to the point where the kids were prevented from boarding the Fire Engine because it was already filled with our Mothers.

We were given a tour of the Fire Station but we weren’t allowed to slide down the Fire Fighter’s pole. One of the officers demonstrated this for us and was met by choruses of “Ooh” and “Again, Again, Again” from all the Mums.

My friend’s Mother, Aunty Su, was eventually thrown out after she started performing some of her routines on the pole. This was deemed inappropriate viewing for the children but the Fire Fighters didn’t appear to object too strongly.

We were then asked if we wanted to have a play with the Fire Fighter’s hose, prompting more giggles from the Mums. What was wrong with them?

Anyway, this was great fun, the water jet was really powerful and I was allowed to knock over some plastic chairs. I tried to blast Becca but the Fire Fighter suggested that it was time for someone else to have a go.

The Fire Fighters were also offering free house visits and safety appraisals. Aunty Su was most annoyed that she already had five smoke detectors installed and was last heard muttering something about getting a ladder and a hammer.

Matthew.

Overbearing

Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes.

I had what was possibly my final play date with Emily yesterday, around at my house.

I think I may have been too excited. My parents had informed me of the forthcoming arrangement the night before and had explained that when I woke up in the morning, Emily would come to visit. Well naturally, I was pretty restless after that and didn’t sleep at all well.

I awoke early the next day in eager anticipation and looked forlornly out the window, awaiting her arrival. When then was no sign of her, I languished on the lounge floor.

Then, on the dot of 10am just as planned, I heard the footsteps coming up our path. I ran into the hall, swung open the front door and threw my arms around the first thing that I could grab.

However, Emily was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a rather surprised Postman stood on our doorstep with me attached to his leg like a limpet. Used as he was to being attacked by house owners’ dogs, I think this was a welcome change. That was until I bit him.

Anyway, Emily arrived 5 minutes later with her Mum. I was the perfect host, helping her off with her Jacket. I then tried to help her off with her shoes, her shirt and her trousers. Apparently, that was taking hospitality too far.

Dad had warned me that I should be nice to Emily and look after her. Therefore, I felt it was important not to give her any space whatsoever, just in case she came to harm.

I remained within 10 centimetres of her at all times. When she objected, I shouted at her. I couldn’t tolerate any dissent, not when her wellbeing was at stake.

I think my behaviour may have been perceived as being slightly overbearing. Once again, Dad’s advice has turned out to be rubbish.

It’s lucky he has Mum, otherwise I think he’d be single for ever - just as I will be, if I continue to follow his advice.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Emily, Bubbly, Hard to Get, Play Date

Cat Flap

Yesterday’s corner time: 6 Minutes.

I'm dedicating much more time than usual to the Becca issue. Now that she’s walking, it’s more important than ever that she understands her place in the pecking order, which is right at the end of the queue.

Unless of course, it’s a giant chicken doing the pecking, in which case, the queue order is reversed and she’s in pole position.

You’d think this would be an easy concept for her to grasp, especially as there are no giant chickens in our neighbourhood. But no, she keeps muscling in where she has no business being.

I decided enough was enough yesterday and I shoved her head first through our cat flap. This was only supposed to be a temporary measure but when I tried to extricate her again by pulling on her ankles, her ears prevented her immediate re-emergence.

After pausing for thought, I decided that the best course of action was to remove Becca’s head, pull the rest of her body through and then reattach the head with some super glue.

Simplicity itself and no one would be any the wiser.

However, the saw from my tool box just wasn’t up to the job. I asked Dad if I could borrow his power tools but he was remarkably negative when I explained the situation and my exit strategy. My alternative proposal, which only involved removing her ears, wasn’t greeted with a great deal of enthusiasm either.

Instead, Dad rescued Becca by adjusting her position and then easing her gently out.

Naturally, this would have been my third solution but as I hadn't received much encouragement for the first two, I had decided not to suggest it.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Pitter Patter, Here, There and Everywhere

Here, There and Everywhere

Yesterday’s corner time: 4 Minutes.

Becca is everywhere. She’s an omnipotent being.

Wherever I go, she follows behind me like a poodle. Well, that is if poodles walked upright, with their paws outstretched like a zombie from the night of the living dead. She doesn’t really have curly hair or a wet nose either but she is smelly and she does have questionable toilet habits. So, I think the comparison is still valid.

Anyway, she tags along and there’s no escape. As I still can’t reach the “Art of War”, I decided that I should approach the problem logically and methodically.

With some limited experimentation, I have tested the boundaries of her agility and identified that she does have issues avoiding certain obstacles, especially those which suddenly appear from out of nowhere.

My initial studies commenced simply with the scattering of everyday objects on the lounge floor. Drawing pins were particularly effective at slowing her relentless progress but eventually, she learnt to brush them aside with her bear.

Next, I tried springing open cupboard doors as she was passing. With some string attached to the door handle, a sharp tug and some good timing I was able to judge it so that the door would smack her square in the face. This had the added advantage of stunning her for a few seconds, allowing me plenty of time to escape.

I’m currently working on a device which is a cross between a demolition ball and the game of skittles. Not only should this take out Becca but we can also have a highest score contest too.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Pitter Patter

Pitter Patter

Yesterday’s corner time: 5 Minutes.

It was a weekend of mixed emotions - some of which were very confusing.

I think my friend Max may fancy Becca. He’s completely besotted by her womanly charms and refuses to play with me anymore, preferring instead to hold her hand all the time.

This is completely unacceptable. What is he thinking - she’s only half his age. Is he having a mid-life crisis at three years old? He’ll be driving a convertible go-cart next and getting his ears pierced. I just hope he snaps out of it soon - I want my friend back.

Becca is certainly sneaky – she keeps finding new and perverse ways of irritating me. If stealing my friend wasn’t bad enough, then she has now also started to walk.

In some respects, this is exciting as I can now chase her and push her over. However, on the other hand, I’ve lost my primary mode of transport.

I’ve tried to encourage her to crawl again, so that I can hop onto her back but she seems physically incapable of bending any more. I tried whacking her in the stomach but she still remained rigid and retaliated by poking me in the eye.

Her increased reach is another downside of her newfound ability. She appears to be becoming an increasingly worthy adversary with each passing day.

I checked and I still can’t reach the “Art of War” on our bookcase but it shouldn’t be much longer.

Matthew.

Related Links: Revelations?, Giddy Up, Horseplay

Play Date

Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes.

I had a play date with Emily yesterday. Things have moved on quite a bit since she ordered her lawyers to drop the restraining order.

I was determined not to make the same mistakes as before and resolved that this time, I would play it cool.

On arrival at her house, we parked in the drive and then walked up to the house. As the front door swung open, Emily was revealed standing at the foot of the stairs and she said hello. Well, I didn’t need asking twice, I raced in and pounced on her.

My ardour was interrupted by Mum hauling me off. Emily clambered up and immediately started to leaf through the phone book for her lawyer’s number. I decided that I needed to perhaps play things even cooler.

However, I may then have appeared slightly too disinterested as she was soon accusing me of not loving her any more. I seem to be struggling to find a happy medium between solitude and legal action.

My friend's sister seems like an easier proposition altogether. She only has to get partially wet and she starts to strip off all her clothes. Living in England as we do with our damp climate, this is a personality trait that can’t easily be ignored.

It’s fortunate for her that I’m a gentleman and would never consider dousing her with my water pistol. Well, not again anyway – I was in a enough trouble after the first three times.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Emily, Bubbly, Hard to Get

Curling

Yesterday’s corner time: 8 Minutes.

I was in trouble yesterday after spilling polish over our wooden floors, turning them into something closely resembling an ice rink.

Rather than alerting my Parents to this potentially hazardous spillage, I decided that it was more fun to hide in the lounge and call out to Becca. She would then barrel in on all fours, lose all traction, collapsing with limbs splayed and start to skid.

I stood prepared with my trusty broom and moving one step ahead at all times, feverishly polished the surface immediately in front her, encouraging and guiding her slide towards the bulls eye target that I had marked out at the end of the room.

I would then drag her back out into the hallway, call out to her again and so on. When I got bored of that, I pretended Becca was an ice hockey puck and slapped her across the room with the end of my broom, using the coffee table as the goal.

All was fine and my accuracy was improving greatly when Dad strode purposefully into the room and then rather unexpectedly, disappeared again into the kitchen after skidding across the now, highly polished floor.

Having removed his socks, Dad was slightly more cautious when he re-entered the lounge and immediately directed me to the sin bin, ruining any chances that I may have had for a podium place at the next Winter Olympics.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Medals

Sea Life

Yesterday’s corner time: 6 Minutes.

Saturday started off badly for me after I took a dislike to one of our fellow campers, a six year old boy who derived great pleasure in scaring me witless. My dislike eventually manifested itself through a swift blow of my stick to his neck, reducing him to tears.

I stood triumphant or rather, I would have done had I not been dragged off to stand behind a tree for 3 Minutes. I thought that I might have been spared punishment as there were no corners to hand but once again, Dad demonstrated his aptitude for improvisation.

Later in the morning, as it was still raining on and off, we visited a local Aquarium. I was particularly looking forward to seeing the Clown fish but apparently, it was depressed and wasn’t in the mood for entertaining.

The Piranhas were quite interesting and the way they stripped down their prey in a few frenzied seconds reminded me much of Becca eating an ice cream.

There was a pool where you could actually stroke the fish. After patting one slightly too vigorously, I discovered that unlike their feline counterparts, a Catfish appears to have just the one life when it keeled over and floated to the top. I decided that it was best not to mention anything and moved quickly on.

Next on my list were the Conger Eels. I was disappointed not to find them dancing along in a line, holding each other's waists.

Dad explained that it was only the Conga Eels that liked to do that and the Aquarium didn't have any of them. Shame.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Camping, Tent

Camping

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

We went camping down in the New Forest with our new tent this weekend.

I embraced the great outdoors and promptly marked out the boundaries of our camp by weeing on the surrounding trees.

I calculated that that would keep out everyone except the most determined trespassers but just in case, I began to dig a six-foot deep trench reinforced with sharp stakes.

Dad said that this was not really in the spirit of camping but I suggested that he wouldn’t be saying that when someone pinched our choccie biscuits.

However, it soon transpired that the natives were a friendly bunch and I was able to step down our defences.

Naturally, after the country experiencing a heat wave for 14 consecutive days, within three hours of pitching our tent, the heavens opened, thunder rolled and lightning flashed.

I awoke in the middle of the storm and amidst the deafening claps of thunder and the babbling of rising flood waters, I could hear Dad expounding the virtues of camping to Mum.

Mum did quite a bit of expounding herself but it’s not printable.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Tent

Curiouser and Curiouser

Yesterday’s corner time: 6 Minutes.

I think the heat went to my head a little bit yesterday and I was a tad irritable. I may have overreacted slightly when Becca spilt my drink and I started shouting at her “Die, Die, Die”.

Mum was extremely shocked and demanded to know where I had learnt such a horrible phrase. I didn’t want to land Dad in trouble, so I told her that I had learnt it upstairs. She then narrowed down the location to Dad’s office and the time down to Wednesday afternoon at about tea time. Just around the time that his wireless connection died again.

She then put two and two together and came up with Dad. I’m not quite sure of the maths involved there, I’d like to see her workings but the answer was spot on. Not that I liked to say so. But I said so anyway.

It’s curious how Dad keeps misplacing his wireless connection. He’s completely mystified by its seemingly random instability. It strikes me as being pretty careless. He’s always loosing it and he has the cheek to tell me that I need to be more careful with my possessions.

I’ve actually got a very good hiding place now behind the television. This is also where Dad keeps his wireless signal thingy. It keeps getting in my way when I go to retrieve my toys and I have to keep putting the aerial down.

Coincidently, I tend to hear Dad swearing upstairs shortly afterwards and this acts as handy reminder for me to put the aerial back up.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Matthew’s Dad Was Here, I Told You So

Matthew's Dad Was Here

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

Hi, I’m Matthew’s Dad.

I’ve got to be quick because Matthew might come back at any moment. He’s just stepped out of the room to terrorize Becca, his baby sister. I think he needed some more material for this blog. Anyway, he’s left himself logged on by mistake.

The corner time above is actually mine. Matthew caught me swearing again.

He has ears like a bat and materializes from absolutely nowhere at the merest hint of a swear word. It scares the life out of me. He just appears behind me proclaiming that I shouldn’t be saying rude words and then orders me to into the corner. Well, you have to set a good example, so I generally oblige. Although, I dispense with the one minute per year of life rule – I’d be in there all day.

I was experiencing more problems with my b#$%£y wireless network connection yesterday, so I was punished three times by the little fascist. He’s like a mini-Mussolini.

I find it quite ironic that he’s punishing me when he’s still in my bad books for blowing his nose in the cleaning cloth for my new Ray Bans. He then has the audacity to highlight that it’s totally uncool to sport mucus on your shades. He appears to have a natural affinity for mischief and less of one for a handkerchief.

When it comes to fashion, he thinks he’s ahead of his time but I keep telling him that’s only because his watch is fast.

Matthew’s Dad.

Related Posts: Trend Setter, I Told You So, Art Attack

Trend Setter

Yesterday’s corner time: 4 Minutes.

We’re experiencing a bit of a heat wave at the moment in England. We normally consider two consecutive days of sunshine a heat wave in this country but this time, it’s actually pretty hot.

Naturally, this has provided Dad with a perfect excuse to buy himself yet another pair of sunglasses. I don’t know why he can’t make do with just one pair like the rest of us.

That said, I’ve actually got two pairs and I like to wear them both at the same time, one pair above the other. Dad says that this makes me look like a fly but I keep telling him that I’m ahead of my time when it comes to fashion.

Other trends that I’m setting and expect to be hitting a street near you soon are:

• Underwear worn on the head
• Hawaiian shirts worn over whatever else you are wearing including pyjamas.
• Willy hanging out over trousers.

That last one is probably just for the boys and I’d advise not wearing too tight a belt, as this can restrict the blood supply leading to a serious injury.

Anyway, Dad is particularly precious about his new Ray Ban sunglasses. Therefore, he was quite upset when he went to polish them with the special cloth supplied in their case only to find that I had used it earlier to blow my nose, resulting in the lenses being smeared with mucus.

Definitely not a cool look and as I pointed out, one that wouldn’t be catching on soon.

It’s lucky he’s got me.

Matthew.

Tent

Yesterday's corner time: 2 Minutes.

We bought a huge family tent on Saturday and then on Sunday, Dad tested it out.

It took him 3 hours to erect it and then it remained up for the rest of the day.

Mum was very pleased and said that Dad normally struggled to get it up and that it certainly hadn’t stayed up that long before without pharmaceutical assistance. Mum and Dad thought this to be very funny.

Throughout the remainder of the day, Mum and Dad continued to make a lot of similar comments, which I didn’t understand. Apparently, it was some sort of private joke.

I couldn’t wait for the tent to be built, so I was very excited when Dad eventually came into the kitchen and announced that it he had finally managed to get it elevated but then asked Mum where she’d now like the tent. Another false alarm and more giggles.

However, it turned out that he was just joking and that he had actually managed to assemble the tent. Much to his annoyance, I then spent several enjoyable hours doing my best to collapse it again, almost strangling myself on the guy ropes in the process.

I think I’m going to enjoy camping.

Matthew.

Art Attack

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

I consider myself to be a talented artist.

I excel at surrealism and I dabble in the abstract. I’ve tried cubism but I struggled to even draw a square, so a three dimensional object was completely beyond me.

I then moved onto impressionism but I was no good at impressions. According to Dad, the only person that I resemble is Mussolini. I assume that he’s a famous Italian artist.

I’m now in my Abstract Surrealism period and my colour is red. I use Becca as my canvas. I enjoy covering her with glue and sticking cotton wool to her head.

By the time I’m finished, she generally resembles a sheep or a cloud. I’m not sure which but that’s the good thing about Abstract Surrealism.

My parents always attempt to be positive about my artwork, complimenting me on my wide and varied use of red. However, I think they may be concerned that this represents internalized anger.

I plan to start telling them that the red signifies the blood of my victims - that should get them really worried about my psychological state.

Yesterday, I was at the kitchen table with my Art Kit and a blank Becca in front of me, about to create another cloud or sheep when in wandered Dad. He asked if I was waiting for inspiration to strike.

Well, after that I just couldn’t concentrate. I had to keep looking over my shoulder to ensure that inspiration wasn’t sneaking up behind me.

Apparently, it could hit me at anytime.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Expressing Myself

Hard to Get

Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes.

Breaking news - Emily has lifted her restraining order. Hoorah!

Apparently, she was playing hard to get. Playing hard to get? I thought girls were complex enough without this new added dimension of intricacy.

So, if I understand it correctly, it goes something like this:

You like them.
They like you.
You make an advance.
They reject you.
You make a slightly stronger advance.
They reject you slightly more strongly.
You jump on them and smother them with kisses.
They issue a restraining order.
You break the restraining order and are arrested.
They visit you in prison and tell you how much they regret what has happened.
You dig a tunnel, escape from prison, go on the run and turn up on their doorstep.
They call the police and turn you in.
You rot in jail.

I don’t understand - it doesn’t make sense. Why on earth would girls behave in such a manner if they like you? I haven’t experienced anything like this before.

If I’m offered a sandwich and I’m hungry, I don’t ignore it, pretending that there are plenty of other sandwiches that interest me more. No, I grab the sandwich with both hands and devour it on the spot. Naturally, once I’ve eaten that sandwich, I may then decide to partake of another one but that’s beside the point.

I’m not quite sure what this has to do with girls, but all this talk of sandwiches is making me pretty peckish.

Anyway, I’ve reached the conclusion that girls are crazy. Dad says that’s half the fun but what’s the other half?

Matthew.

Related Posts: Bubbly, Emily

Bubbly

Yesterday’s corner time: 5 Minutes.

Yesterday morning, I filled Becca’s drinking cup with bubble liquid.

She drank the entire contents before being violently sick and then continued to burp bubbles for the remainder of the day.

Through trial and error, I discovered that I could control both the size and the frequency of the bubbles by applying differing degrees of pressure to her abdomen.

Experiments to make them emerge from her ears failed. As soon as I held both her mouth and nose shut, she objected so strongly that it drew Mum’s attention.

Once I was let back out of the corner, I was allowed to help Mum open the post.

Unfortunately, one of the letters contained a restraining order from Emily’s lawyers.

This was a disappointing development. Perhaps, it had been terror after all that I had seen in her eyes. I really need to learn to differentiate as it’s having a dramatic impact on my love life.

However, I’m ever the eternal optimist and believe that true love can conquer all, although it may well draw the line at legal action and a short spell in prison.

Looks like Dad may have a point about finesse.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Emily, Adoration, Infatuation

Emily

Yesterday's corner time: 2 Minutes

I’m in love. Well, I think I’m in love – I’m not quite sure. I thought I was in love once before but it turned out to be just an upset stomach, followed by some projectile vomiting.

I’m hoping that actually being in love is much better than that but so far, it feels pretty similar. Dad has given me a bucket, just in case.

It all began at Chessington World of Adventures. Our eyes met across the crowded Flying Pink Elephant ride. There was an instant attraction.

My heart started beating faster and faster. My palms became sweaty and my face flushed. What was happening to me? What was wrong? The Pink Elephant ride didn’t normally have this effect.

Then I realised it was because of Emily, for that was her name. It hung upon my lips for the briefest of moments, right up until I forgot it and started calling her Jane.

This may have explained why she ignored much of what I said.

All of Dad’s advice on girls started to flood my brain: be sweet, sweep them off their feet, use finesse. His tips had failed me before, so I chose to rely on my own instincts.

I sidled up to Emily in the Berry Bouncer queue. I spun her around and planted a huge kiss on her lips. There was a flicker in her eyes. I think it may have been adoration but it could also have been terror. I always get the two confused.

The kiss lasted for ages and her initial protestations subsided together with her oxygen supply.

As we parted, we both knew that we had just shared something very special. She dropped to the floor, gasping for air and unable to speak. She was obviously overcome with emotion.

I offered to walk her back to her buggy but she just signalled that she’d prefer that I didn’t. I don’t think she could bear to say goodbye.

It was a defining moment and it passed all too fleetingly. Neither of us would ever be the same again.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Infatuation, Adoration.

Fun Fayre

Yesterday’s corner time: 0 Minutes

I’ve been very good since the demolition but I’m not sure for how much longer I can continue to remain out of trouble.

On Saturday, we went to a local medieval fayre.

Mum said that medieval means a long time ago but sometime after the dark ages. It’s dark for ages every night, so I think medieval must mean some point in the morning, probably just before lunch time.

The fayre was full of people dressed up in odd outfits, including some chap who was wearing a sack. Either the people around there were a bit strange or they could definitely benefit from a visit to Gap.

There was a good jousting ride, where I got to sit in a bobsled type contraption at the top of a long ramp. I had a sword thrust into my hand and was told to whack the mannequins on either side of the track as I flew down. I didn’t know what a mannequin was, so I just clouted the attendants instead.

Dad called me Medieval Knieval for the rest of the day.

There was also a falconry event, where some lunatic ran around a field with a fluffy toy rabbit attached to a piece of string, whilst some lethal bird of prey swooped and attacked.

I attached some string to Becca’s ankle and was about to set off across the field when Dad intervened.

Foiled again.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Demolition, Evel or Evil?

Demolition

Yesterday’s corner time: 36 Minutes.

Yesterday evening, I destroyed the garden playhouse with a softball bat resulting in my longest period of detention so far.

By the time I stood back to admire my handiwork, the door was hanging off its hinges and every pane of glass had been shattered. Nice work. I went to fetch Mum.

That turned out to be a BIG mistake.

She wasn’t as impressed as I had hoped she’d be and instead turned purple with rage. Purple really doesn’t suit her but I judged that this probably wasn’t the best time to mention it.

I was marched inside and exiled to the corner. I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about really; I knew Dad would be able to fix it. He can fix anything. He may swear profusely in the process but he gets the job done.

I suggested that Mum enlist Dad’s help, so that he could make a start on restoring the playhouse to its former glory.

That turned out to be a BIG mistake.

My judgement appeared to be failing me miserably. Is it possible to get a new one?

Dad went to inspect the damage and I could hear him swearing away in the garden, so I assumed that he must have started on the repairs.

Suddenly, I was being whisked out to the crime scene and told that my behaviour had been disgraceful and that the door was beyond repair.

Well, I couldn’t believe that.

I completed my appraisal of the maintenance work required and suggested that the damage was merely cosmetic and that with a bit of tape and a bash of a hammer, it would be as good as new. After all, I pointed out, the doorknob was still intact. At which point it dropped off.

Dad then hinted that that wouldn’t be the only knob to meet an untimely demise. I nodded in agreement before realizing that he meant me.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Playhouse, Sticky Fingers

French

Yesterday’s corner time: 4 Minutes.

Whilst on holiday, Mum and Dad asked me to embrace the culture and the people, which to my credit, I duly tried. However, they were unimpressed when my interpretation involved embracing a local boy so tightly around his neck that he turned blue.

That said, there were some local girls that I went out of my way to embrace. In fact, I refused to let go of one and ended up being dragged across the local square on my stomach. Dad suggested that I needed to learn some finesse. And that from a man who dances around slapping his bottom.

I picked up the local lingo easily and was soon speaking French. However, I was disappointed to learn that fluency involved more than blurting out the word "French" to everyone.

It turns out that I've actually got a French Aunty, so she may be able to help. She's the girlfriend of my Uncle Simon. They’re an honorary Uncle and Aunty, which means that they're not real and are probably computer animations.

Like Grandma Gerry, I think the programmers were having a bad day whilst designing Uncle Simon, as he looks pretty funny. He's got less hair than Becca. I think the developers must have been drunk.

They did a pretty good job on Aunty Fabienne despite making her French and giving her a funny accent. This is probably just a bug and will be fixed in a future upgrade.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Chocolate and lots of it, A Whiter Shade of Pale, Once Bitten ...

Once Bitten ...

Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes.

My sword has been confiscated again, hence the reduction in corner time.

There was a rather amusing incident on holiday after Dad had just retrieved his swimming shorts off the outside wall and was putting them on.

He started dancing around the lounge in a rather bizarre fashion slapping his bottom. His dancing was unusual for two reasons:

1) He was sober
2) It was actually quite good - he must have been practicing.

Anyway, he frantically stripped off his shorts and continued to smack his buttocks at which point, a big black spider dropped to the floor and sprinted under the sofa.

What was that doing up his bottom? I tried to look up mine but I couldn't see anything. I was about to look up Becca’s but Mum stopped me.

Apparently, the spider was having a quiet snooze in my Dad's swimming shorts when it had a rather rude awakening. When faced with its impending doom, the spider obviously decided to alert Dad to its presence in the only way it knew how. It bit him on the ass.

Mum said it was probably going for Dad’s brain.

Dad was concerned that the spider may be poisonous. So, a big operation was launched to catch the blighter in case it was needed for identification purposes.

Once captured, it was placed under a glass on top of the table and I was given strict instructions to give it a wide berth.

Imagine Dad's horror when he returned to the lounge to find me playing with the glass and the spider nowhere to be seen.

"What do you mean you were letting it stretch its legs? What were you thinking? Of course it's going to be fast, it’s got eight of the b#*!#y things!” shrieked Dad.

Dad's bottom was a bit sore for a day or two and Mum said that she was surprised that it didn't impact his speech, as he talks mostly out of that region.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Adoration, A Whiter Shade of Pale

Adoration

Yesterday’s corner time: 9 Minutes.

Since my return from holiday, I’ve also been re-acquainted with my sword, which has helped me re-establish a close relationship with my corner.

During my vacation, I discovered that apparently, both Mum and Dad are very good at science.

According to Dad, Mum demonstrated the Archimedes principle when she plunged into our swimming pool, displacing most of its contents. Dad suggested that it was the only pool in Corsica with its own tidal system.

However, the following day at the beach, as Dad bounded into the sea, Mum highlighted that this was an excellent example of the Butterfly effect. What appeared to be a large splash in Corsica would result in a huge Tsunami in Asia. I never realized that butterflies were so nasty and vindictive.

During our stay, we started adapting to the Mediterranean way of life by having afternoon siestas. As a result of these naps, we were then allowed to stay up much later and go out in the evenings with my parents.

To my utter amazement, everyone there seemed to absolutely adore Becca. They couldn't get enough of her. I kept saying that if they liked her so much that they could take her but unfortunately, I don't think they understood me.

They just pinched my cheeks and said things like "Tu es un petit diable" which I think means that I'm quite cute too.

I need to learn some French so that I can thank them properly next time.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Summer Holiday, A Whiter Shade of Pale, I am Gladiator, Infatuation

A Whiter Shade of Pale

Yesterday’s corner time: 6 Minutes.

Hi, I’m back.

I think it was within 30 minutes of returning that I was re-acquainted with my naughty corner. It was good to be home.

On the plane trip out, Dad told me we were going to the South East Corner of Corsica. Two weeks in a corner? Call that a holiday? I do that for a living.

However, it turned out that this was a really big corner with a villa, beaches and towns. Now, that’s what I call a corner.

Unfortunately, it soon materialized that this larger corner contained several smaller ones into which I could be placed.

We spent much of our time at the coast. The beaches in Corsica were fantastic and both Becca and I really enjoyed them. I enjoyed building sand castles and Becca enjoyed eating the sand. There is a huge difference in our levels of sophistication.

According to Dad, Becca digested so much silicon during our holiday that she definitely won’t need any implants when she’s older.

It was very hot at the beach and my parents were naturally concerned that we didn’t burn. Nevertheless, I still think that Factor 5000 sun block may have been a slight overkill.

Having spent much of the two weeks resembling a polar bear with anaemia, I’m now whiter than before I left. Apparently, this is healthier. I don’t know any polar bears, so this is difficult for me to judge.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Summer Holiday

Summer Holiday

Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes

We’re going on holiday to Corsica tomorrow. I’ve only got one more sleep time to go.

I get to spend two whole weeks with my Dad and he won’t have to work all the time. I can’t wait. However, I’m not so sure the feeling is mutual.

He’s still saying that they’re going to leave me behind together with enough bread and water to last me for two weeks. I’m going to make sure that by the time we land at our destination, he’ll wish that were true.

Anyway, all this means that I won’t be able to update my blog until I get back on July 3rd.

Now, I’m sure that you won’t miss me but rest assured, I’ll be thinking of you, as I laze by the side of my pool, sipping tropical fruit juices, chilling out to some ambient tunes and encased from head-to-toe in factor 5000 sun block.

Don’t believe me? Yeah, you’re right, I’m not going to give you a second thought. I’m never going to master this lying business.

Unfortunately, Becca is coming too. She’s got her a special seat for floating in the swimming pool, which reminds me. Now, where have I put my harpoon gun...

See you in two weeks.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Lying, Flying

Horseplay

Yesterday’s corner time: 9 Minutes.

The saddle that I had ordered for Becca, my baby sister, arrived in the post yesterday and it fitted her like a glove.

She wouldn’t stop complaining at first but once she had the bit between her teeth (I’d ordered one of these too), we didn’t look back. Well, to be fair, she couldn’t look back - I had a really tight grip on the reins.

We’ve certainly come a long way since first attempting to break Becca.

Gone is the need for a whip - replaced by spurs.
Gone is the need to grip onto her ears for dear life - replaced by reins.
Gone is the need to muffle her squeals – replaced by a shiny brass bit.

By the end of the day, she was starting to limp a bit and I was worried that she may have gone lame.

I gave her leg a thorough examination and decided that there was nothing for it, she’d have to be shot. I tied up her reins to a tree and went inside to get my gun.

I was just about to shoot her when Dad wandered out. He took one look at Becca and immediately diagnosed that she had a stone in her shoe. Well, that was lucky.

It turns out that my gun didn’t have any water in it anyway.

Matthew.

Related Posts: Revelations?, Giddy Up