The house sitter demanded train fares for the whole of Britain, food allowance, a bicycle, tv in her room and £250 a week. I just ignored her. Then I told her to go poke it. I don't think she sounds a bit nice. I want this, I want that. No way Jose. So it looks as though all our things are going to be stolen while we pay a small fortune for doggie to reside at kennels. Today, I will try to get onto the agency.
And now, dear reader, I have got our house into an almighty muddle. Mr Smith is being difficult and refusing to pack so much as a sock and the digusting smell of cardboard boxes is driving me bananas.
I am doing quite well but it is still all such a mess. I am tempted to fill all the shelves and cupboards again.
My weight is dropping. But then I eat enough to keep a fly alive so that's hardly surprising. We have a party in two weeks. Maybe I could be thin for it? A bit ambitious I know; ok then just a bit less fat. My very skinniest friend is coming. She is even skinnier than the Lovely Claudia. I call her Callista.
Today culture is planned for Smiths. We are going to the John Soane Museum at Lincolns Inn to look at the Hogarths. I will take the rake with me. I wonder if Mr Smith might like to join us. Oh no, he is going for his curry club lunch. Open all the windows.
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