Friday 10 July 1987

…Everyone except me was packing for tomorrow, and it was one of those days when it was best to keep out of the way because even if you picked up or touched something in one of Mum and Dad’s thousands of cases one of them would shout: “Don’t touch that you idiot, I’ve put that in a very special place for a reason,” even though the thing was just lying there in a crumpled heap on top of some clothes.
I am the only one packing tomorrow, because I don’t mind getting up early…

Like last year, I didn’t take my normal diary on holiday with me, instead keeping a separate journal in a notebook. Like last year, this notebook no longer exists.

So also like last year, this blog will therefore be going on holiday, until the 11-year-old me returns from Devon and picks up his usual, non-travelling pen once again.

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