Читать книгу ‘Dancing in my nuddy-pants!’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 22

No sign of Angus. The loons are still having a world summit cat meeting downstairs. I heard clinking from the kitchen, which means that the vino tinto is coming out, so there will probably be fisticuffs later when they get drunk.

Usual dithering attack about what to wear. It’s officially dark by five o’clock so I need to go from day to evening wear. Also it’s a bit nippy noodles.