Organise the diary, Grit

Is it August 1st? Good, because this afternoon Oo from Dubai arrives to stay. I can now legitimately embark on three riotous days of girly living. That means handbag disaster, cosmetics expenditure and bathroom squealing. All of those I hope to be doing shortly.

But this is a busy day for other reasons, so better leave time for some planning. Like this morning, when Dig cruises past the PGL For Sale website and clicks the Go button. Within twenty minutes Squirrel is booked into another week of a boarding adventure holiday in Wales. That's lucky. She can't do the coming week because Monday to Friday I am ferrying her backwards and forwards to the lake where she is on a paddle sports course, learning how to throw herself in from a kayak. When she does go to Wales we'd better make that Saturday dash and book another Travelodge a week later. My confirming our attendance at the local bat walk pales in comparison.

As it does against Dig reemerging from his office to say that now he has got Squirrel in Wales, he has also contrived to get Aunty Dee down from Northumberland to look after Tiger and Shark, because he has booked flights for the both of us to escape on a two-day visit to Cairo, return first class.

He only slightly mars that last dramatic gesture by saying he needs to use some air miles and Cairo is off season at 40 degrees centigrade, so the hotel is cheap.

Grit is now occupied with the diary, humbly apologising to the environment and will be found later today in the bathroom, squealing.