Small Town Boy

It's good to have roots. Life's complicated and hectic enough, without lurching from one place to another every five minutes. I now know my way round the house (the stairs and by the window in M&D's are my favourite spots) and I'm even thinking of striking up a correspondence with Vince Cable over the farcical dithering over the fate and future of Twickenham's waterfront.

That said, I don't want to get to the age of 4, say, and be suffering from small town syndrome. So I apreciate the importance of travel too and today is the first day of my holiday!

The magic door was up to its old tricks again. This time it was Granny Gray (who I've decided to call GG for the sake of brevity) and Auntie Danny. It was the first time I've ever met someone from Jersey. They're a bit like Guernseyians but they stay up later at night. Auntie Danny is really rather nice and I'm looking forward to her coming to stay at our house.

GG and Auntie Danny had both arrived to collect Mummy and me and to take us to Dorset for a nice long weekend. The journey was made fretful by having Mummy in the back with me; like Archie used to, I like to be on my own in the car as it's very rare I get a moment's peace at home.

Still, we got to Wimborne without serious incident and I've spent the afternoon reading the paper with Grandpa. I usually take The Telegraph but I'll suffer The Times this once.


AMK