I really can't understand why boys aren't allowed to go on the annual Jolly Girls Outing.
This is Faris by the way. Even though I am still a bit miffed at missing out
on the Jolly Girls Outing, well, I can't stay cross with Nanni for long. Not when she plays the "Knock on the Door" game with me endlessly (I'll explain later) and is such a butterfingers. She broke a mug this morning, not the first time she has broken something
in our house. She doesn't even throw things, like I do, which would be some excuse, but we still have breakages when she is around. I am surprised Mummy trusts her with The Twins, I really am.
I expect you
want to know more about the JGO? Well, both of the Aunties turned up at our house on Saturday, together with Katie, who is the eldest of Nanni's grand-daughters. Apparently, you have to be sixteen to be a Jolly Girl so Katie qualifies easily. You also have
to be a Girl, which is my main bone of contention. Though, to be honest, the kind of places they go on a Jolly Girls Outings are a bit girly. Like the ballet, for example. Or lovey-dovey plays. On Saturday, they all went off in Auntie Anne's car for an Afternoon
Tea at Cannizaro House, leaving The Twins and me in Daddy Day-care.
Daddy Day-care was excellent right up until the moment when Daddy decided to cut my hair, using his new clippers. I was not amused. Usually
we go to this shop where I sit in a racing car while my hair is being trimmed. That isn't quite as exciting as it sounds because the racing car doesn't actually go anywhere, however loudly you shout: "Brrrm! Brrrm!" Believe me I have tried. It was still more
fun than sitting in my high chair while Daddy wielded his clippers. You should have seen Mummy's face when she arrived back home with the rest of the Jolly Girls to find me sitting there, with curly clumps of hair littering the floor around my high chair.
Nanni ruffled what was left of my hair and called me "Tufty". She also reassured me that my hair will soon grow. She meant well, I know, but let's face it Tufty is a squirrel and not a particularly intelligent one at
that. I tried not to be offended, I really did. The Jolly Girls all had a glass of something called Prosecco to finish off their outing in style. I just had my usual bedtime milk. Presumably because I don't qualify as a Jolly Girl. See what I mean? I would
say it's discrimination but I don't know exactly what that means.
Nanni stayed on for a couple of days after the JGO. We played this game where I go out into the
hall and wait for Nanni to knock on the door, then I fling the door open and Nanni says: "Good Morning, Master Adli!" Or Good Afternoon, as appropriate. We played it over and over again. The best bit was slamming the door though Nanni kept holding onto the
door handle to stop the door banging too much which spoilt the fun a bit. She also helped me make a musical instrument out of an empty coffee tin and a milk bottle top, like on CBeebies. There was another musical instrument on the CBeebies show which had all
kinds of crockery hanging from a line. You hit the cups and mugs with a wooden spoon to make an excellent crashing sound. Nanni didn't suggest we made this one. I expect she thought she had created quite enough breakages for one weekend.
I am contemplating starting a Campaign to allow boys to be Jolly Girls, just for the duration of the annual Outing. I will recruit Grandad, Uncle Steve and Cousin Jack to the cause
plus I am sure I can count on the Little Welsh Boys to mount a rearguard action down there in Deepest Wales. All I can say is: Look out, Jolly Girls.....
and Lilia say: We don't know why Our Hero (aka Faris) is so het up about the Jolly Girls. Of course, we are fortunate because, being girls and also pretty jolly considering we are only six weeks old, we will be able to be Jolly Girls ourselves one day. We
didn't quite catch exactly when we would qualify but we think we need to be a bit older, maybe sixteen months or so. We can't wait. We quite like Faris's new haircut though we are rather glad Daddy didn't turn the clippers on us. Not half as glad as Mummy,
Our main problem at the moment - though we really don't like to complain - is that absolutely everyone is trying to coax smiles out of us. We have obliged
a couple of times but then we feel bad in case we have disappointed someone by not smiling at them. It's not easy to smile to order, for example when you are hungry, or tired or need someone to thump you on the back so that you can give a satisfying burp and
start hiccuping. Plus we keep forgetting who we have smiled at and who is still waiting. It's a bit stressful, as you can probably imagine.
We have therefore made a pact (as twins do) to get to grips with
this Smiling Business as soon as we can.
It will, after all, stand us in good stead when we eventually qualify as Jolly Girls...