It's a hard slog down here with the rest of the convicts; breakfast at Barzura, lovingly-buttered multi-grain bread and fresh-baked muffins straight from the tin. If you kick up enough fuss a lady comes to your table with a tin of felt-tips.
I offered my mum the crust off the toast so she would give me some of her eggs. She gave me the white and not the yellow. She reckons that's a fair swap. I wanted the yellow bit.
Afterwards I practiced my sandsurfing and had a bit of a lie-down. My favorite game (after pretend cooking) is pretending to be asleep. My mum says it's ironic but I don't know what that means.
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