My cousin Georgia says that boys are like gazelles. She says the get alarmed when they get close to girls. And they have to leap off into the woods like gazelles in trousers. Or have I just made that up?

The fly in her argument is that when she says, 'they' will feel like lemons, we don't know who 'they' are. And 'they' might BE lemons.

Shut up Jas, you are not Baby Jesus

When we did eventually get to the party - me walking next to Dad's Volvo driving at five miles an hour - I had a horrible time. Everyone laughed at first but then more or less ignored me. In a mood of defiant stuffed oliveness I did have a dance by myself but things kept crashing to the floor around me. The host asked if I would sit down. I had a go at that but it was useless. In the end I was at the gate for about an hour before Dad arrived.

At that point Ms Fox came in and said, "Hello, carry on as if I am not here." Then she lay down on the floor.

What shall I say? I must tread a fine line between glaciosity and friendlinosity. With just a hint of 'you don't know what you are missing, my fine-feathered friend.

And a secret inward voice in my head was saying (in a strange breathy voice...) Yes, yessss, I will pop round to The Blind Pig. I will 'pop' round because guess who lives at the Blind Pig? It is not a blind pig, it is Alex.