A shame that another of Charlie’s schoolboy pranks completely destroyed the chemistry lab. But, as he said, he only really meant to blow up the fume cupboard.

Charlie was lovely in every way and had given me my very first proper kiss.

His only fault is, he has a girlfriend already.

Has every boy got a girlfriend already?

As I drifted off to sleep next to Ruby, lulled by the rain pattering on the roof, I dreamed of Charlie.

I was up on the moorland path behind The Blind Pig. Looking through my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary. I was dressed in a black miniskirt and green tights. Thinking of doing a performance about being a person with corkers, not a silly schoolgirl anymore.

Hmmmm, perhaps through the medium of dance I could show my Inner Woman.

The things I had learned from my wise cousin Georgia.

How to do sticky eyes and “look interested” when boys do things.

I started wafting my arms from side to side, and as I did so (in my dream, otherwise Ruby would have kicked me out of bed), sweet music began floating across the moors. So lovely and magical and otherworldly, but somehow familiar . . .

I looked up into a tree, where the music was coming from and . . .

There they were, the owlets with tiny electric guitars . . . hurrah!

Little Lullah was on rhythm guitar and little Rubes on bass. They were playing “Dancing Queen” by Abba!

I began to dance, incorporating a mime of a clown trying to get out of a telephone box. Drawn by the inescapable rhythms of Sweden, lost in a world of my own.

The owlets turned up their amplifiers. (Not easy when you haven’t got any hands.)

I sang.

Friday night and it’s got late

I’m out here without a mate

Got my new green tights on

You can see them from Skipton

They’re in the mood for a dance

And when I get the chaaaance . . .

I am the dancing queen

My Irish legs have a lovely sheeeen!!!!

Oh yeah, you can dance, you can . . .

And I began to spin and kick wildly, doing my Irish dancing on a hillock to the cool sounds of The Owlets when . . . Charlie!

He smiled his special smile and gave a thumbs-up to the owlets. Then he danced towards me. (In time to the music, but carefully as his Lurex flares were quite snug.)

Charlie looked into my eyes and then lowered his lips towards me. Clearly drawn by my irresistible womanliness-ness. Then, just as he touched my lips with his, he drew back and said (in that weird slow voice like in dreams) . . .

“No . . . I caaan’t . . . I haaaaave a girlfrieeeeeend.”

And he got a tiny girl out of his pocket. She waved at me.

He left with the tiny girl in his hand and sadness filled my tights. The owlets started playing a slow version of “Dancing Queen” on panpipes.