Roofin an eetin.

Yesterday's scores:

• Gills: yes, we playd Bradford (Reel nayme, BAD CHEETIN SCUMford) hoo cheetid, so we lost. Poo.
  
• Simpsons: yes
• Tesco: yes, breefly, I walkt to the littol wun wiv Mummy. Daddy cuddent come coz heez hert his bak an wen he walks it looks like heez pood his pants.
  
• Nose Hugs Surprizisity Score: 8/10
• Weekend Score: 7.6383792/10

HULLO NOT-A-BEARS!

It's bin a bizzy weekend heer at Bob Towers. We had to get a man in to fix the roof!!

Thare had bin a week spot in the gutterin, wich, it terns owt, dident like snow at all, an speshly dident like it wen it thord. So all the warter pored down onto the extenshun at the bak ov the howse- or rarther, THROO the extenshun roof, throo the seelin, an onto the armchair below. Mummy ballanst bukkets on it larst week. An it's left a narsty grayvy stayne on the seelin. Looks like Chuck's bin doin projectile vomittin. Upwards. (Note to Chuck's famly: did yu kno he did that? projectile vomittin? Heez kwite good at it, akchewly. Pity it's not rekognized as a skill. Leest not this side ov the Atlantik; is it over thare?)

It waz kwite funny wen the man ferst brort his ladder rownd the bak ov the howse- as soon as he put it up, a robin cayme an sat on it, so he cuddent clime up strayte away, we waytid till the robin had had a good look arownd from his new perch, then flew away. He was well cheeky. No wonder Daddy calls them Bob-robins.

Arfter weed had the roofin dun, Mummy mayde evrywun tea, an we Bears had a snakeroo:

This is wun ov my fayvrit breds. It's calld a Tiger Loaf, cos it haz sort ov tigerry stripes:

This bred haz milk in it so it's perfik for growin Bears. This duzzent inclood Grayum or Chuck or Dilly, but jus try keepin enywun away wen thare's ginger jam arownd!

Bye fer now!