Chapter 3

I'm really bored. I've got nothing to do. The things I normally like to do, like play on the Wii, colour in, email my friends from my laptop, doodle pictures in my locked notebook, is all unaccesible.

I can't get it coz everythings locked up in a box with stupid gaffa tape, and the thing I acually need to undo the gaffa tape, (scissors) is locked up in a box.
So basically I'm bored.
I rolled off a wound up carpet in the soon-to-be dining room, and breathed in the musty scent of the carpets.
Phaow! Yuck!
Suddenly I had an idea.
Here's my idea:

My Autobiography...........(my life so far)

I was born on the 23rd of November, 1998, in Barton General Hospital.

I was a screechy baby, and could not be put down, otherwise I'd scream my head off and Mum would have to sullenly pick me up and hold me till I went to sleep.

Mitchell was born when I was 3.

He was the quiet one, he slept quietly in his cot, and played Thomas the Tank soundlessly, and read his little books alone, and then practised his basic addition in his room, then did he homework neatly in black ink, being a teachers pet, doing diagrams, and getting gold stars, and doing pages and pages of neat little words.

I was the opposite, I'd scream till my face was blue in my cot, I'd bang my dolls heads on the wall, I'd beg my Mum to read me my Angelina Ballerina books, I'd lose all sense of words and numbers when my Mum unsucessfully tried to teach me how to add 2+2, and how to spell cat, I scrawl my homework at the very last minute, often in felt-tip pens, getting lots of red-pen marks, correcting my spelling, or doing the wrong 'method' for maths. I'm getting better, although I still occasionally set my alarm clock for 5.00am and do my homework under the covers, and still sometimes use purple gel pens to do my work, or doodle little faces at the margin, but I am improving, really!

My Dad died when I was 4.

He got cancer, he didn't smoke, or go on his mobile to much, he didn't even have a mobile, but he just died.

I don't really remember Dad. Sometimes when Mum gets the old photo albums out and I see a picture of him, I vaguely remember, but chances are I'm just imagining things.

Ah well.

Mum went a bit funny then, she stopped working, and she stayed in her room all day, she still cared for us and all that, but she was a bit quiet, reserved.

Then Mum met Steve.

She met him at a job interview.

She'd quit her old a job (a secretary for some snobby boarding school) and wanted to become a journalist for a county newspaper.

She got the job, and she and Steve started going out, to restarantes, pubs, bowling, cinema, and she even got us a set-day babysitter, every friday and saturday night she came, she was called Eve, she used to make us hot chocolate, and play games with us until Mitchell started sobbing from tiredness.

After they'd been going out for a year and 3/4, (I was 6) Steve asked Mum to marry him.

Mum said yes.

She told us the minute we got home, she woke us up and cheered and danced, and sang.

She wanted Steve to come and say hello.

The next day (it was a friday night he proposed) Steve came over.

He was really cool.

He gave me a minute stone giraffe, and Mitchell a soft little blanket with Thomas the Tank Engine on the front.

We sat and chatted for a bit, Mitchell sitting in his high-chair dribbling, me dancing my little giraffe up the coffee table legs.

Then Steve and Mum went to plan their wedding.

They got married on the 13th of July 2004.

I wore a little pink silk dress with a purple bouqet, Mitchell sat on Grandma's knee, wearing a shirt and a little bow tie.

Mum wore beatiful dress.

It was made especially for her, and had a long trail of silk, which me and Steve's neice, Natasha, (who was wearing a purple version of my dress and a pink version of my bouqet) carried up the aisle.

They got married, and we lived in our house together for 5 years.

I love Steve, he's really cool, he sometimes buys me little notebooks, (he gets loads coz he's a journalist) and I love them to bits, and scribble stuff on their fresh pages.

Then 2 months ago, Steve and Mum and got a promotion.

They'd liked them so much, they'd been promoted to a larger newspaper, the Daily telegraph, or the Times, or something like that.

Mum and Steve were thrilled, but there was 1 problem.

The headquarters of the newspaper was in London.

We lived in Plymouth at the time, so it was IMPOSSIBLE to get to London just to get to work and back.

So thats why we moved here.