
Change. It's a frightening and wonderful thing. Please be kind enough to vote on my new survey; having a little direction should help me evolve this little blog of mine and stop me waffling aimlessly on from one entry to the next.
Most kind,
AMK
the life and times of one little boy
Daddy works for a bank so I was expecting his work friends to be wearing braces and looking glum. Thankfully they were just the opposite - no braces to be seen and plenty of smiles. Auntie Caroline took me for a stroll round the office; I issued a few suggestions and recommended that one trader move his krugerrands out of lichtenstein before I realised that Daddy works in marketing and isn't a proper banker at all (he does little more then play 'spot the difference' all day long, except when he's got his colouring pens out).
This afternoon we went to the clinic where the nice ladies strip me off and put me in the big silver dish for the weigh-in. After a slow start it now seems I'm packing on the pounds and am no longer in the runner bean category. Smiles all round.
I felt like Braveheart today: I issued a rallying cry and Clan Kerr descended onto Teddington to ruffle up the locals and to belatedly announce my arrival properly. Nanna and Grandad were the first to arrive but neither were in kilts and I'm pretty certain Grandad hadn't painted his bottom blue. (But he was wearing a cardigan that matched mine, which I thought was cool.)
Auntie Stephanie came too. I always like seeing my auntie; she makes me chuckle and we have a nice play. But the biggest surprise was meeting Great Auntie Ave and Great Uncle Mike (Nanna said Ave would love to be called Great Auntie).
According to Giles Whittell writing for The Times "the skies were cleared over much of Colorado yesterday when a homemade flying saucer broke free of its tether and soared for two hours along the edge of the Rockies as rescuers chased it on the ground and in the air, believing a six-year-old boy was inside.
Sitting next to the roaring fire in an old Chesterfield, I was chatting to Daddy over a pint of Old RumbleGuts when one bearded fellow in work boots asked me for a dose of my gripe water; it seems one of his chums was suffering a little heartburn. A sachet of Gaviscon later and we were all as thick as thieves.

As previously mentioned, I do have the Rolls Royce of buggies but for some reason Daddy decided to ignore it and strap me to his chest. It was very jolly going for a stroll with him around the village, although it was completely humiliating meeting the locals dressed like a freakin' pixie.
It dawned on me today, however, that some of my friends are already well on their way to developing a broader global view. Alice and Harriet, for example, have the benefit of being bought-up bi-lingual. Alice already speaks English and French (sacre bleu!), which is very clever. Harriet, meanwhile, also speaks English and Blackburn. Ask her where the nearest cashpoint is and she'll direct you to the closest ATM and/or the local hole'ith'wall!
Today he disappeared off to play golf with Lauchlan “Hongi” Cameron and Stephen, his friend from work. I didn’t mind too much because it left me to spend a few hours with Mummy, Abi and Charlotte in Kingston (Daddy’s welcome to his sticks and balls!). 
While I didn't fancy digging into their supper, Nanna did give me my night time bottle. Cardiff is a long, long way away but when M&D finally get round to buying a big old house they can come and stay lots.