Last night I dreamt I was Anne Frank on the run from the Nazis in Devon – and wearing rather too much lipstick for a girl of my age. Then suddenly, just as I was about to get carted off to Barnstaple Concentration Camp, I was miraculously transported to a Travel Lodge at Heathrow Airport where I was caught up in a love triangle with an unknown woman and the man off the advert. The gist of it was that I was in love with him but he was enamoured with the blurry woman so I packed my suitcase and got a plane to Jakarta. The swine! I think the travel/on the run dream theme is down to my chaotic home life. I have no facilities – no cooker, no washing machine, no sink. I am getting very good at slicing bread on my bedroom floor and washing my pants and my dirty dishes while soaking in the bath. Rinsing is vital – I’m sure my lovely builders don’t want a nice cup of tea with my pubic hair floating around in it.