Ewan’s Blog Brother Rory’s Graduation

20th JULY 2017 2017






Hi Ewan here, again.


Grandad has just read the Riot Act. (What the @?****?@ does that mean? I don’t know do you?) What Grandad reads in his private time is of no concern of mine.  Although in this case it is. Apparently the Riot Act says (or probably states, I do not think it can talk): Ewan has to keep the number of words in his blog down to 500 or under or readers, (that’s you) will get bored.


Low boredom freshold then, have we?


So come on, stop wasting my time and words. Last week was Brother Rory’s graduation from nursery. Not that I was allowed to go and see him graduate. I’m only his brother, am I not? But it doesn’t bother me. I didn’t want to see him graduate anyway. You should have seen how they dressed him up. I had to laugh, he looked stupid. He had a cape on that was not even a Batman or a Superman cape. And the costume was not Joseph’s, or Mary’s or a shepherd’s or a King’s. And he had to wear a poncey hat.


Anyway even if they had let me go I couldn’t have gone. I have more important things to do at nursery. I have responsibilities. There are books to be looked at, important strategy meetings to attend with other kids. Planning meetings to chair. Putting pressure on the carers just doesn’t happen, you know, it needs careful planning and consultation to achieve maximum affect.


Can you imagine the disastrous results if we all slept at the same time? It just doesn’t bear thinking about.


Then you’ve got to think about the nursery toys. They’ve got feelings too. Have you not seen Toy Story? They have to be played with.


But of course Mum and Mamma and Granny were proud and emotional of Brother Rory and thought he looked fantastic. Bully for them. Wait till he has his next meltdown when I’m playing with my prize dinosaur and he wants it too.


Anyway I don’t know why Mum and Dad didn’t let me graduate with him. Mamma and Grandad would have done. Mamma and Grandad always makes sure there are no favourites. Whatever Rory does and gets I do and get and vice versa.


I even found out that I do not graduate and leave nursery until August 2019!!!! That means I have a lifetime sentence of hard labour.  Do not mock. It really is a lifetime. In my life it is. I am two and a half years old. So a lifetime to me is two and a half years. What a daunting thought, I’m sentenced to just under the same amount of time I have lived to date at nursery and without the reassurance of knowing Brother Rory is in the next room.


I love new experiences and I would so love to go to school. You learn everything at school. Apparently there are no toys. But I think I could live with that. You learn to read and write and play football and to sing.


I don’t know who changes your nappy, I think it’s the teacher. The only bit that worries me and scares me about school is teachers. My Mum is a teacher and she is so scary.


But just imagine being forced into a lifetime at nursery. Day in day out 7.15 am until 5.15 pm.  10 hours of routine drudgery whilst Brother Rory goes to school 8.30 am till 3.30 pm, just 7 hours a day learning everything about life and then trying to be even more knowledgeable than me.


Nothing for it, the only thing I can do is step up my looking at books, looking through What Hi Fi magazine  and increase my accessibility to the internet on PC, tablet and phone and watch more Cbeebies, and Peppa Pig.


That sure sound like a brilliant game plan, to me


Yes, yes, ok, Grandad. Apparently I’m up to 600 words.


So it is a very hurried, Bye, Bye, Ewan


©2017 www.rujokinggrandad.co.uk – Phil Robinson