Hi Ewan, here. How you doing?

I know it has been a long time since my last post but I’ve been packing so much into my life.

You have to at my age. There are so many new experiences to erm, experience. And I want to, and I have to experience them all.

If I’m out experiencing I can’t be writing blogs and if I’m writing blogs I can’t be out experiencing.

We spent Easter and Easter week in Norfolk. A full blown family job that was, amazing.

There had been a big build up to us going. Everyone kept saying where are you going on Saturday and who with? How the feck do I know? One of my biggest complaints about life is that it ain’t your own. At my age you have no day to day say in your own life, you are forced into the straight jacket of Mum and Dad.

They take away your independence, your every decision. So you have no say in anything. Then, they decide to potty train you. And go ballistic because you cannot make the decision when you want the potty. But I’ve had a lifetime of not being allowed to make my own decisions, so it’s not my fault I lack the experience of decision making.

I digress. So we set out for the seaside on Easter Saturday.

It does not take much imagination to realise we are going on holiday. We go through the holiday pre-amble. Mum’s in a massive panic, Mum and Dad get annoyed with one another and with me and brother Rory. We are told to put toys and books in our bags we wish to take on holiday. The bags are not big enough to hold them all, so 90% has to be left at home. What a pointless exercise that is.

(Note: I do not understand percentages, but I’ve heard Dad use them and he’s a mathematician and 90% sounds good.)

Anyway we are manhandled in to Dad’s car and after days of build up finally get away. But my Dad is rubbish at navigating even though he has an excellent GPS system and a Maths degree.

We are off to Norfolk, the seaside. So how long should it take us Nottingham to Norfolk. I can’t get my mind around time yet. What is a minute, an hour, a day, a month, a lifetime?  Don’t ask me. I just do not know, I think mainly because Mum and Dad do not allow me to have a smartphone to check time.

I think Nottingham to the seaside should take10 minutes. Every time we’ve gone to the seaside before I think it took that long. Usually I doze off to sleep for a couple of minutes and wake up and we are there.

Apparently Dad took 3 hours, whatever that means. But even I know that is forever. It doesn’t even take 3 hours to get to the moon, so Grandad says. Grandad has been to the moon, he has moon dust to prove it. Moon dust looks and tastes like sugar, strange really because Grandad also says the moon is made of cheese.

I think Dad lost his way, daren’t admit to it and just drove round and round until he found the seaside.

I was so bored.

The holiday house was brilliant though. It was built of boulders, not bricks. Mamma and Grandad were already there. They beat us. I like to win. It just shows how slow Dad was if even Mamma can beat us. That was so embarrassing for me and us as a family. Dad should hang his head in shame.

The first thing I noticed about the holiday home was the big brick fireplace leading to a chimney. There was no fire in the fireplace so I was able to look up the chimney and I could see Santa. I was beside myself with excitement. We do not have a fireplace or chimney at home. It was just like the pictures you see.

I kept looking up the chimney to see if Santa was coming down. He didn’t, but he shouted down to me. He said he was stuck.

His voice was alot like Grandad’s but all old men sound the same to me anyway.

The Tesco man had been and delivered our Hula Hoops and Choc Choc Bears. Again shows Dad got lost because the Tesco man had come from Nottingham and delivered long before we got there.

Me and Brother Rory went to bed in our new bedroom, sleeping with Mum and Dad. But Mum and Dad can’t organise a nappy change in a nursery.

They had put my cot one side of the room and Brother Rory’s bed at the other side. They then left us to go to sleep and complained because we were shouting to one another and also shouting obscenities down to them. They were downstairs feet up watching TV.

Me and Brother Rory were so far from one another that when I threw things at him they did not even get half way towards his bed, let alone hit him and bear in mind  I’m a pretty mean thrower.

In the end we got through to them. The penny dropped and they saw the error of their ways and put our beds next to one another. Now the only sound that could be heard was Brother Rory complaining as missiles I threw hit him and me giggling.

Next morning we awoke and went downstairs and realised it was Easter Sunday. Mum pointed out that overnight the Easter Bunny had been and laid an Easter Egg trail.

So that was who was up the chimney and had a voice like Grandad. I knew Santa came down the chimney but I didn’t realise the Easter Bunny did too. You’d think its white fur would become sooty and black.

Me and Brother Rory gathered lots of eggs. I can count to ten and there were more than that so I think there were probably ninety nine million hundred.

But Mum said we could only eat one. Stupid grown up logic, again. You get ninety nine million hundred chocolate eggs and Mum says you can only eat one. What is the point of the Easter Bunny delivering ninety nine million hundred eggs, we are just wasting his time and wasting his life. If he’s watching from up the chimney it will knock his confidence too.

After a chocolate breakfast, although the rain was pouring down we went for a walk. Yes, even though it was still raining. Can you believe it? My dream come true!

Dad made Grandad put his willies on. Grandad didn’t want to. But what Dad says is law. My Mum and Dad are so bossy. Grandad said Dad must be having a joke and playing an April Fool on him because it was the 1st April.

I’m not sure what April Fool is all about. But Grandad was right he did look a right fool.

I was overjoyed to see children on the quay at Blakeney catching crabs. I looked forward to doing that probably after we’d walked down the road a bit.

We set off on the Coastal Path walk. I made sure I held Mamma’s hand. There’s not the same restrictions with Mamma as with walking with Mum and Dad. She lets me walk through puddles. After all I did have my willies on.

After awhile I was bored and started to jump in the puddles. You have to don’t you? It is my favourite sport. But Mamma put her stern face on saying “No Puddle jumping.” But I know you are supposed to jump in puddles. I saw this documentary on TV about it called “Peppa Pig – Muddy Puddles”.

So I nonchalantly left her side and sidled up to Grandad. With Grandad no holds are barred. He’s sensible and allows me to do anything I want. I was able to do huge jumps in puddles, splashing  me and granddad all over. I was covered head to toe in wet mud and so was Grandad. The mud made us look like a chocolate Grandad and a Chocolate Ewan.

It was the best day of my life. The Easter Egg Trail, chocolate for breakfast and massive splashing and jumping in puddles with Grandad – the best holiday ever.

But I was getting tired. I asked Dad to shoulder ride me. He said I was too dirty.

I asked Grandad to carry me. Mum said “No.” She said I must walk. So I sat in a puddle.

It worked Grandad waited for everyone to walk away and leave me, then he picked me up.

Tomorrow the holiday will get even better.

Cousin George and Cousin Freya are coming. At least George will be able to share some of the huge responsibility of being the Family’s Naughtiest Child.

Look out for my continuing Blog about the holiday over the next few days.