In the car on the way to school. I’m sitting in the back with Michael, Holly’s in the front with Uncle Mark. She always has to go in the front. She says she gets sick, otherwise. I think I might get sick if it was a long journey as I’m not very used to travelling by car. I don’t know what would happen in that case. I suppose I would have to use a plastic bag, which would be totally disgusting. Something else which is a little bit disgusting…there is a smell wafting up from my sweater. Mr Pooter was sleeping on it during the night and brought up a bit of yellow stuff. I thought I’d got it all off, but there must be some I missed. I quiver my nostrils, trying to sniff the air without making it obvious what I’m doing. Michael doesn’t seem to have noticed, so maybe I’m just imagining it. I think Mr Pooter must have made himself a nest because my sweater was all scrumpled and catty-smelling. He dribbles quite a lot. He can’t help it. It is what old cats do. “So!” That is Uncle Mark, booming out from the front of the car.
