INGRID LOATHES HER FRINGE

Ingrid before she knew about straighteners (even they didn't solve the problem of damp weather)

M O N D A Y,  1 7  J U L Y

Another marvellous day. This summer’s been super, and we’re not even half way through.

Anya came to school in an absolute swoon and we talked all day long about Polnareff and the pilgrimage. Is it childish for 16-year-olds to go crazy on pop-stars? I don’t think it is really, and the thing is, the reason we’re really crazy on Polnareff is his music. Alison W said she knows a French boy who works in Pol's favourite Bag O’ Nails - and it's £2 to get in!!

Had lunch down by the logs and discussed the very great problem of going on the dig at Ewell and to the Henry Moore exhibition too. I’d like to go to the Exhibition on Wednesday but it’s the only free day Anya has, and she wants to go on the dig. In the end I decided to go on the dig with her on Wednesday (plus Lucy, Martha, Sally B and Anne) and go to the Exhibition on Friday with Lucy - and Anya if she can come.

So we rang up Mr Buckingham and arranged the dig.

“Sunbathed at home and read the ‘Tout, Tout, Tout’ on Polnareff. I’d forgotten he was so against convention and society!”

He’s just like me. I do think he’s a pretty fab person – and the more I think about it, the more certain I am I will meet him. I mean, it’d be pretty difficult not to at the rate we’re going. Only a month ago I still thought a lot about Dutronc. I don’t much now.

Picked strawberries, raspberries and redcurrants which we had for supper again, with masses of cream. 

I LOATHE my fringe. Crinkly and awful.