enough, too. Sheâd been stuck up there for nearly an hour.
Wes and Fez spent all evening screwing little blocks of wood to the wall outside their bedroom and rigging up ropes all over the veranda. Mum will freak when she sees all the holes theyâve drilled into the mud walls.
Normally I would point out every single bit of destruction to Mum then blame it on the Colonel but, honestly, it JUST DOESNâT WORK. Everyone loves him.
And why wouldnât they? He really is heaps of fun.
Besides, we all know that Wes and Fez are totally feral regardless of who is teaching them and what new ideas are put into their heads.
I give up. My plan to get rid of the Colonel has failed.
In fact, if Iâm honest, I really donât want to get rid of him.
Itâs time to get Miss McKenzie back using Plan B â¦
Only trouble is, I donât have a Plan B!
Thursday, 7 June
Received three articles for the next paper today.
âZombie flesh-eater let loose at primary schoolâ by Sam tells of Gabbyâs unsuccessful attempt to resuscitate Anthony the worm.
âMy life as a flagâ has been written by Dora with a little help from her mum:
My life as a flag â A true story
I was flapping in the wind at the top of a pole. Nobody would look up.
Luckily I am a talking flag and I said, âExcuse me. Iâd like to get down now.â
Good manners are important, even when you are a flag.
They got me down and I lived happily ever after.
âCake crumbs in the shape of Queen Elizabethâ by Mrs Flanagan tells of an amazing discovery at the CWA morning tea yesterday. When everyone had eaten a slice of Betty Simpsonâs ginger fluff sponge, the plate was covered in crumbs that looked exactly like Queen Elizabethâs head. Mrs Flanagan has included a photo and asked that I send a copy of the next BakeTribulation to the Queen herself! How exciting will that be?
Wes and Fez were late for dinner tonight. When Mum called them, they climbed through their bedroom window, traversed the wall outside using the blocks of wood they screwed in last night, winched themselves up to the roof, scrambled on their tummies along the top of the house, slid down the other side of the roof and abseiled down inside the old chimney into the dining room. It was amazing.
Mum was pretty mad. Not only were they late for dinner, but theyâd knocked a dead magpie out of the chimney on the way down. Petal flapped up onto the dining table with fright and pooped on Dadâs mashed potato.
Dad just scraped the mashed potato into the pig slops bucket and said, âOh, well ⦠I sâpose it could be worse.â
And he was right. Halfway through dinner the whole chimney caved in and made an awful mess of bricks, bird nests, soot and dirt. It took us until 9.30 to clean it all up.
This time tomorrow, Sophie, Peter and Peterâs friend Xiu will be home from boarding school for the long weekend. I canât wait.
Friday, 8 June
Wes and Fez gave me their next manners column for the newspaper this morning:
Wes and Fezâs modern manners
This week we look at being late for dinner. It is very rude to be late for dinner and your mum is sure to get really cross. She might even say you canât have dessert because you are a naughty, ungrateful child. But if you have some excuses ready, you wonât seem rude and your mum wonât tip your ice cream in the pig slops bucket.
These are our top six excuses for being late for dinner:
I was washing maggots off my hands.
I had my undies on back to front and had to put them on the right way.
I was reading the dictionary.
The pig wouldnât let my leg out of his teeth.
I was helping an old lady across the street.
I was doing my homework (only use this excuse if you are really desperate because your mum probably wonât believe it).
We let the new carrier pigeons out of their coop today. They soared up into the air, around the school in a big loop
Wes and Fez spent all evening screwing little blocks of wood to the wall outside their bedroom and rigging up ropes all over the veranda. Mum will freak when she sees all the holes theyâve drilled into the mud walls.
Normally I would point out every single bit of destruction to Mum then blame it on the Colonel but, honestly, it JUST DOESNâT WORK. Everyone loves him.
And why wouldnât they? He really is heaps of fun.
Besides, we all know that Wes and Fez are totally feral regardless of who is teaching them and what new ideas are put into their heads.
I give up. My plan to get rid of the Colonel has failed.
In fact, if Iâm honest, I really donât want to get rid of him.
Itâs time to get Miss McKenzie back using Plan B â¦
Only trouble is, I donât have a Plan B!
Thursday, 7 June
Received three articles for the next paper today.
âZombie flesh-eater let loose at primary schoolâ by Sam tells of Gabbyâs unsuccessful attempt to resuscitate Anthony the worm.
âMy life as a flagâ has been written by Dora with a little help from her mum:
My life as a flag â A true story
I was flapping in the wind at the top of a pole. Nobody would look up.
Luckily I am a talking flag and I said, âExcuse me. Iâd like to get down now.â
Good manners are important, even when you are a flag.
They got me down and I lived happily ever after.
âCake crumbs in the shape of Queen Elizabethâ by Mrs Flanagan tells of an amazing discovery at the CWA morning tea yesterday. When everyone had eaten a slice of Betty Simpsonâs ginger fluff sponge, the plate was covered in crumbs that looked exactly like Queen Elizabethâs head. Mrs Flanagan has included a photo and asked that I send a copy of the next BakeTribulation to the Queen herself! How exciting will that be?
Wes and Fez were late for dinner tonight. When Mum called them, they climbed through their bedroom window, traversed the wall outside using the blocks of wood they screwed in last night, winched themselves up to the roof, scrambled on their tummies along the top of the house, slid down the other side of the roof and abseiled down inside the old chimney into the dining room. It was amazing.
Mum was pretty mad. Not only were they late for dinner, but theyâd knocked a dead magpie out of the chimney on the way down. Petal flapped up onto the dining table with fright and pooped on Dadâs mashed potato.
Dad just scraped the mashed potato into the pig slops bucket and said, âOh, well ⦠I sâpose it could be worse.â
And he was right. Halfway through dinner the whole chimney caved in and made an awful mess of bricks, bird nests, soot and dirt. It took us until 9.30 to clean it all up.
This time tomorrow, Sophie, Peter and Peterâs friend Xiu will be home from boarding school for the long weekend. I canât wait.
Friday, 8 June
Wes and Fez gave me their next manners column for the newspaper this morning:
Wes and Fezâs modern manners
This week we look at being late for dinner. It is very rude to be late for dinner and your mum is sure to get really cross. She might even say you canât have dessert because you are a naughty, ungrateful child. But if you have some excuses ready, you wonât seem rude and your mum wonât tip your ice cream in the pig slops bucket.
These are our top six excuses for being late for dinner:
I was washing maggots off my hands.
I had my undies on back to front and had to put them on the right way.
I was reading the dictionary.
The pig wouldnât let my leg out of his teeth.
I was helping an old lady across the street.
I was doing my homework (only use this excuse if you are really desperate because your mum probably wonât believe it).
We let the new carrier pigeons out of their coop today. They soared up into the air, around the school in a big loop
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