Hornish Airways

The unicorns have packed their bags. Then they boarded Hornish Airways, which was actually a cut-off piece of shelving, held by Tiger. Of course they had to have tickets to get on board and sit on the wood. And everybody had to get past customs, which was Shark, who stood in the doorway with a stick in her hand.

The tickets were good. They were laboriously pressed out from an ancient letraset sheet. I tried to get some maths in while the tickets were being made. Foolish. I tried to suggest the Units, Tens, Hundreds thing again. It didn't work. 'What number's that?' I cautiously say, pointing at 135. 'It's the ticket!' cries Tiger, clearly irritated. 'How many unicorns fit on the aircraft?' I say to Squirrel. 'Mummy you're in the way!' she shouts, bundling unicorns together by the hooves. So I just watch, while I'm putting things away in their proper places. I'm very proud of my new organised system for pipe cleaners and wiggly eyes.

After about half an hour, Hornish Airways takes off. Customs has been grim. All the unicorns have been searched by Shark for contraband items like the tiara that she says is hers. They've been allowed to take some luggage, like bits of wool, the bugs from the Jumpin' Bugs game, a Christmas bauble and Tiger's shoe. The in flight service is rubbish. Tiger makes it through the kitchen and into the hall, and half-way up the stairs. Then five unicorns slide off Hornish Airways and tumble back down the stairs with all their bizarre luggage scattering around them. If I was them, I'd have demanded compensation. They don't even get an apology, just picked up by the horns and flung back upstairs.

When they get to their new homes, the unicorns get stuffed into wicker baskets that are too tiny for them, so that their legs stick out. They're hiding, Squirrel tells me. This is because I have threatened to cut off their horns if I find them in any of the rooms I've cleared out. I'm making prohibition signs, pictures of unicorns in a circle with a red line across, that says underneath, Unicorns Keep OUT.

When Hornish Airways gets back downstairs I confiscate it, since the aeroplane has turned into a weapon and Shark's just about to be on the receiving end from Tiger. Apparently, Shark stood on Furryhorn. Tiger retaliated by telling Blutina that she's no longer Queen of the Unicorns but is a pig in a ditch. Then Pinky and Misty went to war over the wool that was in the luggage and ended tangled up at the foot of the stairs. Sardine is hiding, along with Squirrel, who likes to keep out of these things.

But we're making headway. The unicorns moving from the old bedrooms to the new is like an emotional shift; Shark, Tiger and Squirrel will happily follow.

Now all that's left to do is to put up the chandelier in the princess room, move everyone's clothes, dismantle the old beds, move the mattresses, put up the light-stop curtains, agonise over the price of blinds for Velux windows again, get an electrician to sort out a trip, muck out the old bedroom to become the new playroom, take our old mattress and bed to the tip, pick up the freecycled table and chairs for the little upstairs kitchen, put up the desks in what is the childrens new workroom, buy a third desk fromn Ikea, move around baskets, table and castle, hide Hornish Airways in the garage, and get Dig to put up the Sewing Room shelf and the bathroom mirror. Not much, really.