8 am. Thursday 18th March Guess what, Diary?! Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me... Yes!! It’s my eleventh birthday at last, which is EXTREMELY over exciting.com. At the moment, me and Arabella are sitting in the back of Mrs Fairchild’s favourite car, her silvery blue vintage Aston Martin. She’s not driving of course, Bertie the gardener is. She’s sitting next to him wearing flying goggles, telling him hilarious stories about all the antics she got up to in her twenties. Arabella keeps giggling because from where she’s sitting she can see how much Bertie is blushing – she told me in whispers that he actually went bright purple when Mrs Fairchild said she and her college mates once tied their knickerbockers round flagpoles to celebrate the last day of term. Hee hee, very funny.com. I’ve brought the letter with me that my mum sent last week. It’s so exciting I’ve re-read it about a million times: “Darling! Hope you are having a thrilling time at Egmont. Have you had time to take up those sky diving lessons I booked for you?
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