Ooh, it will be so nice to see little Vaisey again and her cheeky bottom and all my new arty mates.

I’m putting my new shiny, fruity performance-art notebook under my pillow for when I come up with more whizzo creative projects. I can’t wait to see Dr. Lightowler’s face when she has to hand me my golden slippers of applause.

She doesn’t like me. I don’t know why. It was after I did my “owl-laying-an-egg” mime in her class. I think she took against me then.

Maybe she thought I was pretending to be her because she looks like an owl. She said I was silly and shouldn’t be at Dother Hall.

But Dr. Owly is in for a surprise when she gets to see how unsilly I can be.

I’m going to put my corker-measuring tape measure in my corker-holder drawer, next to my corker holders.

I wonder if my corkers have grown since I last measured them?

I did a sneaky measuring in the lavatory on the train, which is only about three hours ago, but growing could happen any time, couldn’t it?

It could happen the minute after you took the corker-measuring tape measure away.

Anyway, I am not going to risk doing a measure. It would be just my luck for the lunatic twins to come barging in.

Last term, unfortunately I tried my method in front of the window. And Cain Hinchcliff was out there in the undergrowth, snogging some village girl, and he’d seen me, seen me doing my method. He’d seen me rubbing my corkers with my hiking socks on my hands.

To make them grow.

My corkers, not the socks.

The socks were huge.

Best not to think about it.

I shivered at the memory.

Still, that was all in the past.

Dibdobs shouted up, “Tea’s ready! Boys! Tallulah! Split splat!!!”

I shook my hair and gave it a bit of a va-va-voom.

When I opened my door, there they were. The twins. Blinking and sucking on their dodies. As if they knew that I had nearly measured my corkers.

Perhaps they have a corker-sensing gene.

Perhaps all boys do.

What a horrific thought.

After tea (local eggs and a local sausage), I said, “I’m just going to pop to The Blind Pig to see Ruby and then we might pop and visit the owlets.”

I’ve entered the “popping zone” again. I like it. It’s very me.

As I went out the door Dibdobs said, “Put this hat on in case of rain. It’s my camping hat.”

I said, “I’ll be all ri—”

But she was ramming the waterproof hat on my head, completely squashing my va-va-voomed hair. I’d have to not take it off now in case of hat hair.

Dobbins said, “Oooooh, look at you!! You’re gorgeous. You’ve grown! Oooohhhhh.”

And she hugged me again.

And so did the boys.

It’s very hard to walk when you’ve got three people doing hugging.

Was it going to happen every time I went out?