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anymore. Mum said, “Bob, I beg you, please get someone competent to do the fence. You’re only just back on your feet again.”
    Vati got all dadish. “Connie, I can fix a fence, you know.”
    We laughed. I helped Mum out. “Dad, there was the unfortunate leg-through-the-ceiling incident when you last went into the loft.”
    â€œThere was a weakness in the roof.”
    â€œYes, Dad, that was you.”
    â€œDon’t be so bloody cheeky.”
    I am not wrong, though. The electrician who came to look at the fridge that blew up after Dad had “fixed it” accused Dad of being a madman. But grown-ups will never be told anything until it is too late. That is the sadnosity of grown-ups.
    As Vati went into the cupboard under the stairs Mum looked at me, but what was I supposed to do? It’s her husband; she should stop him. He came out of the cupboard with a hammer and a saw. I said, “Well, probably catch up with you later in Casualty then, Dad.”
    He swore in a very unpleasant way.
    2:00 p.m.
    Dad built a hilarious fence. It was sort of leany and falling-downy at the same time. It was supposed to keep Angus away from Naomi, but whenDad was hammering in the final nail he said, “Yes, well, that should keep him safely in,” and the whole fence fell over. And Angus just walked straight over the fence into Next Door’s garden.
    3:00 p.m.
    Vati is having to pretend to be normal because Libby’s kindy mates have arrived. Libby’s an awfully rough hostess. When Millie and Oscar were bobbing for apples she “helped” them by banging them on the heads with her pumpkin lantern. Oscar couldn’t walk straight for ages and Millie wanted to go home. Well, actually, all of the children wanted to go home.
    5:30 p.m.
    Angus is having a huge laugh. He keeps appearing on the top of fences and so on. He ate Snowy’s play Bonio. Mr. Next Door said he will have to get a dog psychiatrist in.
    Vati’s been raving on and on. Outside I could see Mr. and Mrs. Next Door and Mr. and Mrs. Across the Road all muttering together and poking about with sticks. They are probably forming a lynch mob. For heaven’s sake.
    Vati said, “As soon as we find him, that is it—he has his trombone polished once and for all.”
    As Dad was grumping around, moaning on and on and banging things about in the kitchen, I said to Mum, “Will you tell Vati that I don’t want to discuss things of a personal nature with him, but if he takes Angus to the vet and has his, you know, trouser snake addendums tampered with, he is no longer my vati. I will be vatiless.”
    Mutti just went tutting off into a world of her own.
    Angus is a king amongst cats. He walks tall with his trouser snake addendums proudly dangling. Naomi is yowling all the time. Why don’t they just let them be together?

november
    away laughing on a fast camel
    monday november 1st
at “breakfast”
    7:50 a.m.
    Back to school.
    Sacré bleu, merde and double poo.
    Angus is on his lead, yowling, tied to the kitchen table. It’s like having a police car in the kitchen. He was brought back under armed guard this morning. The lynch mob only managed to get him because he tried to get in through Mr. Across the Road’s catflap. To see his beloved sex kitten. No one seems to appreciate the romance of the situation. Angus had even taken Naomi a midnight snack of half-chewed haddock fillet. How romantic is that?
    Vati has got a job interview this morning. With my luck he’ll turn up serving hot dogs in a van outside school. With, as a coup d’état , Uncle Eddie ashis assistant. Anyway, it means that Angus lives to polish his trombone another day.
    Vati gave me a kiss on the head as he left!! Erlack!! I’ve asked him to respect my personal space. Well, I said, “Please don’t touch me as I don’t want to be sick down my school uniform.”
    I made for the door before