Here is my recipe for a mood enhancer. Take a friend, preferably one with a really annoying fringe and outsize pants, and when she is rambling on swiftly, push her into a ditch and run away.

Dad at breakfast today being very quiet. I notice he is clean shaven. I said to him, "Vati, what has happened to the little beaver that used to live on the end of your chin?

...Then it said on the news, "And tonight the Prime Minister has just got to Number Ten." I looked down at Jas and said, "Ooer." Meaning he'd got to number ten on the snogging scale. And then we both laughed like loons. Vati just looked at us like we were mad.

I wanted to kill her and make her eat her fringe. And her knickers.

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.

Dance of the Sugar Plum Bikey. Yes, that's got a nice ring to it.

You wouldn't say ' You've got the crappest eyes I've ever seen. Your eyes make me physically sick.