Tidy Bedroom Quotes

Sugar leans her chin against the knuckles of the hand that holds the pen. Glistening on the page between her silk-shrouded elbows lies an unfinished sentence. The heroine of her novel has just slashed the throat of a man. The problem is how, precisely, the blood will flow. Flow is too gentle a word; spill implies carelessness; spurt is out of the question because she has used the word already, in another context, a few lines earlier. Pour out implies that the man has some control over the matter, which he most emphatically doesn’t; leak is too feeble for the savagery of the injury she has inflicted upon him. Sugar closes her eyes and watches, in the lurid theatre of her mind, the blood issue from the slit neck. When Mrs Castaway’s warning bell sounds, she jerks in surprise. Hastily, she scrutinises her bedroom. Everything is neat and tidy. All her papers are hidden away, except for this single sheet on her writing-desk. Spew, she writes, having finally been given, by tardy Providence, the needful word.

The Most Powerful Wizard Excuse "Be quiet Muggles! I’ve found the Elder Wand and fixed it with Sellotape from the kitchen draw. I am now the most powerful wizard in the world... ...what’s the spell to make it rain Chocolate Frogs?

Tired of his lack of understanding, she asked him for an unusual birthday gift: that for one day he would take care of the domestic chores. He accepted in amusement, and indeed took charge of the house at dawn. He served a splendid breakfast, but he forgot that fried eggs did not agree with her and that she did not drink café con leche. Then he ordered a birthday luncheon for eight guests and gave instructions for tidying the house, and he tried so hard to manage better than she did that before noon he had to capitulate without a trace of embarrassment. From the first moment he realized he did not have the slightest idea where anything was, above all in the kitchen, and the servants let him upset everything to find each item, for they were playing the game too. At ten o’clock no decisions had been made regarding lunch because the housecleaning was not finished yet, the bedroom was not straightened, the bathroom was not scrubbed; he forgot to replace the toilet paper, change the sheets, and send the coachmen for the children, and he confused the servants’ duties: he told the cook to make the beds and set the chambermaids to cooking. At eleven o’clock, when the guests were about to arrive, the chaos in the house was such that Fermina Daza resumed command, laughing out loud, not with the triumphant attitude she would have liked but shaken instead with compassion for the domestic helplessness of her husband. He was bitter and offered the argument he always used: “Things did not go as badly for me as they would for you if you tried to cure the sick.” But it was a useful lesson, and not for him alone. Over the years they both reached the same wise conclusion by different paths: it was not possible to live together in any way, or love in any other way, and nothing in this world was more difficult than love.

She sorts out her lipstick with a glance in the hall mirror, her free hand simultaneously pointing out rogue books and magazines that suddenly, urgently need me to tidy them. She ducks into her bedroom, rummages noisily, makes a brief appearance in the hallway in what can only be described as a Poncho. 'No,' she says. 'No.' And she balls it up and flings it back through her bedroom door. I want to medicate her. One of those tranquilliser darts they use to bring down big cats would do. - Joel

You should be warned . . . . . . I've finished my tactical tantrum course, graduated top of my class and received my degree in 'Getting What I Want All The Time.

I realized that I travel too much on the day I began tidying an airport as if it were my bedroom.

Moon?...

frustration because he couldn’t see in the dim light to correct his students’ papers. “Soon we will have to add another blanket to your bed,” Mama said one morning as she and Annemarie tidied the bedroom.

Habits are built on consistency, and you build consistency by showing up again and again. It’s not about the actual workout, how many shirts you hang up, or what you do after you turn off Netflix; the point is, you went to the gym, made it to the bedroom for tidying, and turned off the TV. If you just keep showing up, it will feel far more natural and effortless to do more—get into the workout, fold the rest of the laundry, or prep your lunch for the next day. Chase consistency.

But, as to Mr. Franklin's bedroom (if THAT is to be put back to what it was before), I want to know who is responsible for keeping it in a perpetual state of litter, no matter how often it may be set right--his trousers here, his towel there, and his French novels everywhere. I say, who is responsible for untidying the tidiness of Mr. Franklin's room, him or me?

Ah,’ said Beelzebub, and he actually began to smile. ‘You wizzsh to rule the world. That’z more like thy Fath—’ ‘I thought about all that an’ I don’t want to,’ said Adam, half turning and nodding encouragingly at the Them. ‘I mean, there’s some stuff could do with alt’rin’, but then I expect people’d keep comin’ up to me and gettin’ me to sort out everythin’ the whole time and get rid of all the rubbish and make more trees for ’em, and where’s the good in all that? It’s like havin’ to tidy up people’s bedrooms for them.’ ‘You never tidy up even your bedroom,’ said Pepper, behind him. ‘I never said anythin’ about my bedroom,’ said Adam, referring to a room whose carpet had been lost to view for several years. ‘It’s general bedrooms I mean. I din’t mean my personal bedroom. It’s an analoggy. That’s jus’ what I’m sayin’.

¹Arachnophobia - fear of spiders. ²Verbophobia - fear of words. ³Ichthyophobia - fear of fish. ⁴Ligyrophobia - fear of loud noises. ⁵Chromatophobia - fear of colours. ⁶Phagophobia - fear of swallowing or of eating or of being eaten. ⁷Arithmophobia - fear of numbers. ⁸Peladophobia - fear of bald people. ⁹Pogonophobia - fear of beards. ¹⁰Xenophobia - fear of strangers or foreigners. ¹¹Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia - fear of long words (and hippos). 7.

THE Andersons lived in a lovely clapboard house at the corner of Washington and Main, a few blocks past the hubbub of stores and businesses, where the town settled into private residences for the well-to-do. Beyond the wide front porch, where Mr. and Mrs. Anderson liked to sit in the evenings, the man scooping into his silk tobacco pouch and the woman squinting at her needlework, were the parlor, dining room, and kitchen. Bessie spent most of her time on that first floor, chasing after the children, preparing meals, and tidying up. At the top of the staircase were the bedrooms—Maisie and little Raymond shared theirs—and the second washroom. Raymond took a long nap in the afternoon and Bessie liked to sit in the window seat as he settled into his dreams. She could just make out the top two floors of the Griffin Building, with its white cornices that blazed in the sunlight.

My Lover Who Lives Far..... My lover, who lives far away, opens the door to my room and offers supper in a bowl made of his breath. The stew has boiled and I wonder at the cat born from its steam. The cat is in the bedroom now, mewling. The cat is indecent and I, who am trying to be tidy, I, who am trying to do things the proper way, I, who am sick from the shedding, I am undone. My lover, who lives far away, opens the door to my room and offers pastries in a basket spun from his vision. It is closely woven, the kind of container some women collect. I have seen these in many colors, but the basket he brings is simple: only black, only nude. The basket he brings is full of sweet scones and I eat even the crumbs. As if I've not dined for days. My lover, who lives far away, opens the door to my room and offers tea made from the liquid he's crying. I do not want my lover crying and I am sorry I ever asked for tea. My lover, who lives far away, opens the door to my room pretending he never cried. He offers tea and cold cakes. The tea is delicious: spiced like the start of our courtship, honeyed and warm. I drink every bit of the tea and put aside the rest. My lover, who lives far away, opens the door to my room like a man loving his strength. The lock I replaced this morning will not keep him away. My lover, who lives far away, opens the door to my room and brings me nothing. Perhaps he has noticed how fat I've grown, indulged. Perhaps he is poor and sick of emptying his store. It is no matter to me any longer, he has filled me, already, so full. My lover who is far away opens the door to my room and tells me he is tired. I do not ask what he's tired from for my lover, far away, has already disappeared. The blankets are big with his body. The cat, under the covers, because it is cold out and she is not stupid, mews.

he herself will serve them coffee in tiny, cracked cups of precious porcelain and little sugar cakes. The hobbledehoys sit with a spilling cup in one hand and a biscuit in the other, gaping at the beautiful Countess in her satin finery as she pours from a silver pot and chatters distractedly to put them at their fatal ease. A certain desolate stillness of her eyes indicates she is inconsolable. She would like to caress their lean, brown cheeks and stroke their ragged hair. When she takes them by the hand and leads them to her bedroom, they can scarcely believe their luck. Afterwards, her governess will tidy the remains into a neat pile and wrap it in its own discarded clothes. This mortal parcel she then discreetly buries in the garden. The blood on the Countess' cheeks will be mixed with tears; her keeper probes her fingernails for her with a little silver toothpick, to get rid of the fragments of skin and bone that have lodged there.

Please tidy your room this instant!” Gertrude’s mother would plead. The poor lady was in torment. She prided herself on keeping the rest of her house utterly spotless. If a single biscuit crumb dropped on to the carpet, Mother would get the vacuum cleaner out. The grubbiness of Gertrude’s bedroom was absolutely horrifying to her. How had she, a lady who always kept a vase of fresh flowers on the dining table, given birth to a child who chose to live in a… swamp? “BOG OFF!” Gertrude would reply with a laugh. She knew that her mother (always immaculately turned out with her hair in a swirl and a string of pearls round her neck) loathed her saying the word ‘BOG’. So Gertrude always, always, always made sure she used it when speaking to her. “Daughter! I forbid you from using that foul word!” Mother would wail. “What?‘BOG’?” Gertrude would answer mischievously. “Yes. It’s a frightful word that has no place in my otherwise delightful home. Now, young lady, I need you to tidy your room this instant!”“BOG OFF!” Gertrude would shout back. 135

At such a time [at dawn] I would dream of being a baker who delivers bread, a fitter from the electric company, or an insurance man collecting the weekly installments. Or at least a chimney sweep. In the morning, at dawn, I would enter some half-opened gateway, still lighted by the watchman's lantern. I would put two fingers to my hat, crack a joke, and enter the labyrinth to leave late in the evening, at the other end of the city. I would spend all day going from apartment to apartment, conducting one never-ending conversation from one end of the city to the other, divided into parts among the householders; I would ask something in one apartment and receive a reply in another, make a joke in one place and collect the fruits of laughter in the third or fourth. Among the banging of doors I would squeeze through narrow passages, through bedrooms full of furniture, I would upset chamberpots, walk into squeaking perambulators in which babies cry, pick up rattles dropped by infants. I would stop for longer than necessary in kitchens and hallways, where servant girls were tidying up. The girls, busy, would stretch their young legs, tauten their high insteps, play with their cheap shining shoes, or clack around in loose slippers.

to look around. At first sight, the apartment was perfectly ordinary. He made a quick circuit of the living room, kitchenette, bathroom, and bedroom. The place was tidy enough, but with a few items strewn here and there, the sort of things that might be left lying around by a busy person—a magazine, a half-finished crossword puzzle, a book left open on a night table. Abby had the usual appliances—an old stove and a humming refrigerator, a microwave oven with an unpronounceable brand name, a thirteen-inch TV on a cheap stand, a boom box near a modest collection of CDs. There were clothes in her bedroom closet and silverware, plates, and pots and pans in her kitchen cabinets. He began to wonder if he’d been unduly suspicious. Maybe Abby Hollister was who she said she was, after all. And he’d taken a considerable risk coming here. If he was caught inside her apartment, all his plans for the evening would be scotched. He would end up in a holding cell facing charges that would send him back to prison for parole violation. All because he’d gotten a bug up his ass about some woman he hardly knew, a stranger who didn’t mean anything. He decided he’d better get the hell out. He was retracing his steps through the living room when he glanced at the magazine tossed on the sofa. Something about it seemed wrong. He moved closer and took a better look. It was People, and the cover showed two celebrities whose recent marriage had already ended in divorce. But on the cover the stars were smiling over a caption that read, Love At Last. He picked up the magazine and studied it in the trickle of light through the filmy curtains. The date was September of last year. He put it down and looked at the end tables flanking the sofa. For the first time he noticed a patina of dust on their surfaces. The apartment hadn’t been cleaned in some time. He went into the kitchen and looked in the refrigerator. It seemed well stocked, but when he opened the carton of milk and sniffed, he discovered water inside—which was just as well, since the milk’s expiration period had ended around the time that the People cover story had been new. Water in the milk carton. Out-of-date magazine on the sofa. Dust everywhere, even coating the kitchen counters. Abby didn’t live here. Nobody did. This apartment was a sham, a shell. It was a dummy address, like the dummy corporations his partner had set up when establishing the overseas bank accounts. It could pass inspection if somebody came to visit, assuming the visitor didn’t look too closely, but it wasn’t meant to be used. Now that he thought about it, the apartment was remarkable for what

It was George the Mailman’s last day on the job after 35 years of carrying the mail through all kinds of weather to the same neighborhood. When he arrived at the first house on his route, he was greeted by the whole family who congratulated him and sent him on his way with a tidy gift envelope. At the second house, they presented him with a box of fine cigars. The folks at the third house handed him a selection of terrific fishing lures. At the fourth house, he was met at the door by a strikingly beautiful blonde woman in a revealing negligee. She took him by the hand, gently led him through the door, which she closed behind him, and took him up the stairs to the bedroom where she blew his mind with the most passionate love he had ever experienced. When he had enough, they went downstairs and she fixed him a giant breakfast: eggs, potatoes, ham, sausage, blueberry waffles, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. When he was truly satisfied, she poured him a cup of steaming coffee. As she was pouring, he noticed a dollar bill sticking out from under the cup’s bottom edge. "All this was just too wonderful for words," he said, "But what’s the dollar for?" "Well," she said, "Last night, I told my husband that today would be your last day, and that we should do something special for you. I asked him what to give you. He said, “Screw him. Give him a dollar.” The breakfast was my idea.

called me Floccinaucinihilipilification¹¹.

¹Arachnophobia - fear of spiders. ²Verbophobia - fear of words. ³Ichthyophobia - fear of fish. ⁴Ligyrophobia - fear of loud noises. ⁵Chromatophobia - fear of colours. ⁶Phagophobia - fear of swallowing or of eating or of being eaten. ⁷Arithmophobia - fear of numbers. ⁸Peladophobia - fear of bald people. ⁹Pogonophobia - fear of beards. ¹⁰Xenophobia - fear of strangers or foreigners. ¹¹Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia - fear of long words (and hippos).

I’ve given up being a little kid to become a handsome billionaire . . . . . . so one of my many servants will tidy my room

Ok I’ll tidy my room, but first a riddle . . . . . . the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end, and the end of every place.

just received a letter from the Government declaring that my bedroom has become a Protected Nature Reserve for several species of endangered bacteria . . . . . . so if I tidy my room I’ll be breaking the law.

Sorry but I’m revising for my spelling test tomorrow . . . . . . I know it’s only a 10 word test, but Miss Print said there will be a surprise bonus word. So I decided to be thorough and learn all 60,000 words in the English Dictionary.

return to my bedroom, put my empty handbag in a bag, and put it on the top shelf of the closet, saying, “You did well. Have a good rest.

Ok I’ll tidy my room, but first a riddle... ...the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end, and the end of every place. What am I?... ...the letter ‘e’.

Rule 179 in ‘The Good Parenting Guide’ clearly states “when telling your daughter to go and clean her bedroom you must place your left hand on your hip, point to the bedroom with your right hand, and shoot lasers through your eyes burning two holes in her soul"... ...now go upstairs, learn this guide off-by-heart and practice, practice, practice. I’ll be in my messy bedroom when you’re ready.

My teacher told me to practice working as a team... ...Mum, pick up all my dirty washing and then take my dirty cups to the kitchen. Dad, tidy my bed and then hoover the carpet. I’ll water my imaginary Cactus with my imaginary Watering Can until you’re done.

I can't tidy my room because I've got butterflies in my stomach... ...I should never have eaten that Caterpillar Sandwich for lunch!

Help! There’s a spider¹ under my bed. It’s teasing me because I’m too scared to play Scrabble², Go Fish³, Snap⁴, Twister⁵, Hungry Hippos⁶, Battleships⁷ and Guess Who⁸⁹¹⁰... ...and then it called me Floccinaucinihilipilification¹¹. AAAAAARGH!” ¹Arachnophobia - fear of spiders. ²Verbophobia - fear of words. ³Ichthyophobia - fear of fish. ⁴Ligyrophobia - fear of loud noises. ⁵Chromatophobia - fear of colours. ⁶Phagophobia - fear of swallowing or of eating or of being eaten. ⁷Arithmophobia - fear of numbers. ⁸Peladophobia - fear of bald people. ⁹Pogonophobia - fear of beards. ¹⁰Xenophobia - fear of strangers or foreigners. ¹¹Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia - fear of long words (and hippos).

Harry is currently attempting the World Record for the longest whistle... ...DO NOT DISTURB!!!

Really... well I've forged an invisible anti-adult force-field around my entire bedroom... ...if you try to step in here you'll immediately turn into a pile of dust! Go ahead, step into my room and see

But I can’t tidy my room! Look at this... ...I’m 4th in the Angry Birds World Rankings, just 7 points away from being the best bird flinger in the entire world! So I think you’ll agree this is far more important then something as trivial as ‘tidying’.

Please, sit down. I have an important announcement to make... ...FAAAAAAAART! I put Woppie Cushions on your chairs. Hehehe.

I just received a letter from the Government declaring that my bedroom has become a Protected Nature Reserve for several species of endangered bacteria... ...so if I tidy my room I’ll be breaking the law. You've always taught me to live within the law of this great nation, so for the protection of these microscopic germs I promise to never tidy my bedroom ever again.

And they were in love in spite of the ban on reading-even better. They were in love in spite of Mom and Dad, math homework, a French essay, a bedroom that needed tidying. They were too in love to go down for supper, they loved each other more than desert. They were too heads over heels to join in the soccer game or go mushroom picking. They had chosen each other and preferred each other to anyone else. My God, how beautiful love is. And how short that novel was.

daughter's evil twin sister...

It showed 9.30. In Paris, on Boulevard Richard-Lenoir, if spring had also come at last, Madame Maigret in her dressing gown and slippers would have opened the windows and tidied the bedroom while a stew simmered on the stove.

Potato God.” Excuse #33 The Advice

. . . and then it called me Floccinaucinihilipilification¹¹.

Be quiet Muggles! I’ve found the Elder Wand and fixed it with Sellotape from the kitchen drawer. I am now the most powerful wizard in the world . . .

the moon made of cheese?

We hear them often in the night. Their wild yelping makes the hair on my neck rise, even as I am always compelled to go to the nearest window and fling it open to listen, despite the cold. You can hear them moving: nearer, nearer up the frozen creek bed, until they are just beyond the edge of the porch light, the moon a grinning wedge above the trees. And then they’re gone, racing up the valley into the dark. I can feel how they’re close now, beyond the meadow’s edge, somewhere in the woods there, maybe asleep or watching us with yellow eyes, alerted by our footsteps and the sharp, ringing singsong of my son’s eager voice. This is always the case: The line between us and the wild is slender, like the bit of thread I find coiled in my pocket. My fingers tease it, wanting to know how it’s wound. This is always the way. I always want to know. The thread is yellow and snarled and comes from the windowsill of the bedroom above the garage. I stuck it in my pocket this morning while tidying, meaning to throw it away. It was from tha same window that I saw the foxes last week. The ruckus of the chickens alerted me, and when I looked down, one was right below me in the snowy driveway, looking up. I pounded my fist on the glass and began to yell, but it didn’t run. Instead it just stared at me, not moving a muscle until I ran down and out into the snow without a hat or gloves or jacket, boots unlaced, shrieking like a madwoman. Of course it ran then, though not far at first—just to the top of the nearest field—and when I followed after, another joined it. They’d staked the chicken house out for sure. And even though they were a threat to our unwitting hens, I was sad when they disappeared among the white trunks of a stand of birches, and I can still feel the way my heart was hammering hard and raw in my chest after running through the snow, hair flyaway, clapping my hands. Their fur was rust-colored, and when they ran

my head is full of curiosity? I’m tired

- fear of long words (and hippos).

...well someones got to speak up for Caterpillar Rights.

but first a riddle... ...the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end, and the end of every place. What am I?...

of my tidy one-bedroom apartment in downtown Los Angeles.

Floccinaucinihilipilification

What would it be like to have been locked up in one of those cells for weeks or months or even years, only to discover that you’d never really been a lunatic at all, and could just as easily – if only the world had been a bit different – have been home in your bedroom all along? That would mean that you couldn’t be sure about things. Better to believe that sane people were sane and crazy people were crazy and you could put the two types of people on opposite sides of a wall and keep them separate, clean and tidy. Without that, where did the lunatics go? Where had they gone? Were they among us? Were they us?

Once Terry is asleep I could cartwheel several times across the bedroom carpet and he wouldn’t notice.

Floccinaucinihilipilification¹¹.

A Tidy and Organized Home… Makes you feel calm. You can relax and unwind in a tidy home. There is space to do things, and you know where everything is. When you walk into a hotel room, you immediately feel a sense of peace because the environment is tidy and organized. Makes you feel healthy. Dust and mold accumulate in messes. Are you always coughing and sneezing? Do you suffer from allergies? It’s probably because you are breathing in all the dirt in your home. Give your home a spring clean and your health issues will improve. Makes you feel in control. How does it feel when you know where everything is? Clutter prevents positive energy from flowing through your home. Remember, energy attaches itself to objects, and negative energy is attracted to mess, which creates exhaustion, stagnation, and exasperation. What does it feel like when negative energy is stuck in your body? You want to lie in bed and shut the world away because everything becomes more difficult and you can’t explain why. Here is how decluttering your house will unlock blocked streams of positive energy: You will become more vibrant. Once you create harmony and order in your home, you will feel more radiant and present. Like acupuncture, which removes imbalances and blockages from the body to create more wellness and dynamism, clearing clutter removes imbalances and blockages from your personal space. When you venture through spaces that have been set ablaze with fresh energy, you are captured by inspiration, and the most attractive parts of your personality come to life. You will get rid of bad habits and introduce good ones. All bad habits have triggers. Do you lie on your bed to watch TV instead of sitting on the couch because you can’t be bothered to fold the laundry that has piled up over the past six months? Or because the bed represents sleep, and when you come home from work and get into bed, you are going to fall asleep instead of doing those important tasks on your to-do list. Once you tidy the couch, coming home from work will allow you to sit on it to watch your favorite TV program but get up once it’s finished and do what you need to do. You will improve your problem-solving skills. When your home has been opened up with a clear space, it’s easier to focus, which provides you with a fresh perspective on your problems. You will sleep better. Are you always tired no matter how much sleep you get? That’s because negative energy is stuck under your bed amongst all that junk you’ve stuffed under there. Once you tidy up your bedroom, you will find that positive energy can flow freely around your room making it easier for you to have a deep and restful sleep. You will have more time. Mess delays you. An untidy house means you are always losing things. You can’t find a shoe, a sock, or your keys, so you waste time searching for them, which makes you late for work or social gatherings. When you declutter your home, you could save about an hour a day because you will no longer need to dig through a stack of items to find things. Your intuition will be stronger. A clear space creates a sense of certainty and clarity. You know where everything is, so you have peace of mind. When you have peace of mind, you can focus on being in the present moment. When you need to make important decisions, you will find it easier to do so. It might take some time to give your home a deep clean, but you won’t be sorry for it once it’s done. Chapter 5: How To Become an Assertive Empath The word assertive means “having or showing a confident and forceful personality.

We easily forget how much love is connected to being able to look after something. We turn inwards and become what is called selfish when the social problems feel too vast and intractable and our own efforts start to look puny and pointless. The great metropolitan centres are too big to love. They constantly force us to admit that we are nothing. The small island is so pleasing because it raises the vision of another kind of world, in which public effort and generosity feel logical and productive. The gap between tidying one’s bedroom and tidying the little world of the island is not so daunting.

Every night, millions of people scrub their teeth in order to get a tingling feeling; every morning, millions put on their jogging shoes to capture an endorphin rush they’ve learned to crave. And when they get home, after they clean the kitchen or tidy their bedrooms, some of them will spray a bit of Febreze.

I’ve become a Contemporary Modern Artist. This is my latest work, I call it ‘The Untidy Room of a Young Genius’...

I’ve been spending all my time genetically mutating this centipede, then I've been leaving it’s cage open and pretending to take a photo of this cardboard cut-out of Mary Jane...

I have been raising an army, a Bathroom Army. I DECLARE WAR!...

teacher told me to practice working as a team... ...Mum, pick up all my dirty washing and then take my dirty cups to the kitchen. Dad, tidy my bed and then hoover the carpet. I’ll water my imaginary Cactus with my imaginary Watering Can until you’re done.

the letter ‘e’.

The Record Breaker Excuse Harry is currently attempting the World Record for the longest whistle...

¹Arachnophobia - fear of spiders.

²Verbophobia - fear of words.

³Ichthyophobia - fear of fish.

⁴Ligyrophobia - fear of loud noises.

⁵Chromatophobia - fear of colours.

⁶Phagophobia - fear of swallowing or of eating or of being eaten.

⁷Arithmophobia - fear of numbers.

⁸Peladophobia - fear of bald people.

⁹Pogonophobia - fear of beards.

Xenophobia - fear of strangers or foreigners.

I’ve become a Contemporary Modern Artist. This is my latest work, I call it ‘The Untidy Room of a Young Genius’... ...I reckon some French millionaire should arrive any minute now to buy my masterpiece. So don’t touch ANYTHING!!!

Did you know that a recent scientific study has shown that 92% of children who never tidied their rooms achieved better grades in schools, grew up to become the worlds most successful and happy people...

¹¹Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia - fear of long words (and hippos).

Be quiet Muggles! I’ve found the Elder Wand and fixed it with Sellotape from the kitchen draw. I am now the most powerful wizard in the world... ...what’s the spell to make it rain Chocolate Frogs?

Woppie Cushions on your chairs. Hehehe.

Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia - fear of long words (and hippos).

career advisor visited our school yesterday and told us to start practicing what we want to be when we grow up... ...so I’m practicing being unemployed. I’m already very good at sleeping in past lunch time and I've mastered not tidying my bedroom, so next on my professional development list is to watch TV all day and shout at the neighbour's cat.

discussing

unpacking their bags and discussing whether to go

The days of September passed, one after the other, much the same. Annemarie and Ellen walked to school together, and home again, always now taking the longer way, avoiding the tall soldier and his partner. Kirsti dawdled just behind them or scampered ahead, never out of their sight. The two mothers still had their “coffee” together in the afternoons. They began to knit mittens as the days grew slightly shorter and the first leaves began to fall from the trees, because another winter was coming. Everyone remembered the last one. There was no fuel now for the homes and apartments in Copenhagen, and the winter nights were terribly cold. Like the other families in their building, the Johansens had opened the old chimney and installed a little stove to use for heat when they could find coal to burn. Mama used it too, sometimes, for cooking, because electricity was rationed now. At night they used candles for light. Sometimes Ellen’s father, a teacher, complained in frustration because he couldn’t see in the dim light to correct his students’ papers. “Soon we will have to add another blanket to your bed,” Mama said one morning as she and Annemarie tidied the bedroom. “Kirsti and I are lucky to have each other for warmth in the winter,” Annemarie said. “Poor Ellen, to have no sisters.” “She will have to snuggle in with her mama and papa when it gets cold,” Mama said, smiling.

The Teamwork Excuse “My teacher told me to practice working as a team... ...Mum, pick up all my dirty washing and then take my dirty cups to the kitchen. Dad, tidy my bed and then hoover the carpet. I’ll water my imaginary Cactus with my imaginary Watering Can until you’re done.

Aaaaaaaargh! You made me lose count!... ...I am doing some very important research for AbsolutelyPointlessFacts.com, counting how many toes a centipede has. Now I’ll have to start all over again. 1, 2, 3...

Did you know that a recent scientific study has shown that 92% of children who never tidied their rooms achieved better grades in schools, grew up to become the world's most successful and happy people

I know you’re both very stressed from raising a lazy son, so I’ve booked us an all-expenses paid holiday to Disney Land... ...don’t worry about the money. I used your credit card.

... ...now I shall explain what it means with a demonstration. Dad, fold up my clothes. Mum, pick up all my Lego. When you’re finished come back to me for another demonstration.

Help! There’s a spider¹ under my bed. It’s teasing me because I’m too scared to play Scrabble², Go Fish³, Snap⁴, Twister⁵, Hungry Hippos⁶, Battleships⁷ and Guess Who⁸⁹¹⁰...