Wednesday 9 July 1986

In the continuing saga of ‘the wrong trousers’ (eat your heart out Nick Park), my mum swapped the pair that didn’t fit for one that did. Good job too, as I needed them for the award evenings at school where I picked up my cup for Reliability. In a brief moment of smugness, just between my diary and me you understand, I noted, ‘aren’t I clever.’ No hint of irony. I also noted that my foot was better too.

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