Chrsythansythisieums

Fate, cruel fate. Why do you mock me? It turns out that the lemons that had supposedly started sprouting last week are actually some type of stupid flower whose name I cannot pronounce. Instead of the orchards of orange trees I had hoped would fill my conservatory (yeah right, we barely have a concrete yard), I will be stuck with chrsythansythisieums or whatever some old man in a potting shed decided to call them. Apparently my mother took the liberty of replanting my orange pots with this weird blue flower, but completely failed to inform anyone. So there I was jumping for joy at the sight of 5mm of green shoot erupting from the damp earth that I had nurtured so attentively for the last 2 weeks.

It looks like I will now have to consult some kind of trade journal or other literature on the basis of securing some knowledge of Mediterranean fruits. I once used to be a dab hand at avocados, cacti and small palms but even the most hardy of plants now look weak and shriveled in my room. Reminds me of me.

Elsewhere in my supremely interesting life so far, we have been doing a bit of 'spring cleaning' as some would like to refer to it as. I prefer to think of it as 'Time to get rid of some shit week', as that is basically what it is. My brother and I (yes, the Tracy Beaker one) have bother been at it, clearing out our rooms. It seems 6 year olds get through toys very quickly these days.

Whereas with me it was the same old wooden clothes peg and broken glass bottle that kept me amused from birth till 7, my bother seems to have gone through Postman Pat > Bob the Builder > Fireman Sam > The Shiny Show in a matter of months. Hence the jump to CBBC, as CBeebies no longer has the calibre to amuse him for longer than the time it takes to scroll past it to Channel 71 on Freeview.

Relevantly enough, I have just got myself some new speakers. And just in case Jingo thinks IKEA have launched a new range of electricals, I got them from Argos actually.