This doll’s house belongs to my friend Ginny’s young daughter, whose Dad made it for her over several months, maybe a year. It now resides in Ginny’s home and she said to me tonight ‘do you want me to give you a good idea for a pic today?’ I said ‘oohhh yes, please’ and this is what she showed me.

It’s been built with love by a little girl’s daddy for his princess and she clearly loves it.

I am away from my own home tonight again, staying with said Ginny and family. I’ve ‘paid’ for my keep with a mattress that we can’t use and they can. I’ve counselled their other daughter, Kelly AGAINST joining the RAF…..well, what would you expect me to do, I’ve come to really like both of these girls in the last year or so and I don’t want either of them to end up dead in the burning wreck of a plane in a desert in the Middle East. (And I’m a hippy pacifist from a background where to express a doubt over nuclear bombs was definitely not tolerated.)

My own day has been loooooooooooong. In fact, for reasons I don’t want to go into here, it was 2 ½ hours longer than it should have been because I was up at 3am instead of the 5.30am start that my alarm clock was set for.

The precious foundations of my world were once again the subject of my persistent nightmares – this time, on return from a trip overseas, finding Archie waiting for us at the terminal building, soaking wet and bedraggled. He’d also been in an accident and had a clearly badly broken leg. It was New year’s Eve and the whole world was partying as I was trying to find a vet to look after him….not to mention wanting to chop off the goolies of the person who’d let him escape and make his way to Heathrow alone. I was trying ever more desperately to find a vet and continuing to fail when my half-sleep and half awake nightmare was broken by the alarm clock.

I phoned DM at lunchtime, convinced he’d tell me Arch was in trouble but he reported a calm and unruffled situation at home.

Tonight, I’ve got into fights over the RAF, Mini Coopers (sorry my friend, I can’t forget your little girl) and chlamydia 'I don't care if they think I'm a dirty bird'. My young friend is earning pocket money by going into branches of a certain pharmacy and asking for a chlamydia test kit then checking to see if the pharmacist offered a questionnaire at the same time. It’s a kind of ‘mystery shopping’. Weirdly, I’ve found myself actually feeling like a pseudo Mum to a young woman who is feeling her way in the adult world.

My home is far away, my psyche is spooked after another BAD night, I'm feeling very 'homey' and now I’m arguing about ‘dangerous stuff’ with someone who simply feels too young to have to face into such stuff…..I’m sorry, K, that’s my take on these things…..I know you have to do your own thing BUT…..

Last year, I was lamenting the loss of Paul Hester.