Good morning beautiful Topsy. Here I am again little girl, saying sorry for not being able to come on here to you as I used to. The past seventeen months have bern awful little girl, my poor Mum going into hospital to have her swollen legs seen to, and catching blasted covid off some spluttering old cow, then loosing Molly, then eleven months later Tiddles was taken, and last month, my poor Mum was so cruelly taken away. I have been told that my poor Mum can at last be laid to rest in twelve days time little girl. In a normal house, people would be able to sit together an talk, but as we all know, this is not a normal house little girl. We thought it would be when that evil old ogre went, but something else took over his duties, and made live almost as bad for us, even arguing, and playing up like a spoilt child to our poor Mum. Dopey me thought I would be allowed to sit downstairs, but that was not going to be allowed, I have even thought of a new name for EOO junior, the dementor, as it sucks all hope out of us, and feeds on it. Of course, it feeds on food as well, lots of it, while I have to try to survive on three crumpets, a couple of slices of cake, and the odd bowl of corn flakes, which I feel guilty about, it shovels down enough food for two, sometimes three. Mind you, I think that George eats more that me, she has four packs of food a day, where Molly just has one, but she does like lots of Bonkers. The other day, my sister, who it has told, has to cook for it, asked it if it wanted three sandwiches, or eight sausages… it wanted both. Of course, that caused a huge argument, it had a great big lump of fish with other evening, with two great helping of chips. Thanks to the dementor, I have not been able to eat fish, mash, corm, or peas for over four and a half years. I have not even bern able to have a hot meal for almost a year, unless toasted crumpets are classed as a hot meal, no wonder I went down to just over nine stone little girl. How can we be in the seventh year from you crossing over the Rainbow Bridge, but look at Charlie, it is nearly nine years. Nine years in just three months, it is fifteen months for poor Molly, and already, a month has passed for my poor Mum. I will come out there to your little resting places in the morning before I go into town little girl, and I will talk to all of you. I love you Topsy, I love you so much little girl, and I miss you, I love you and I miss you so much you beautiful, brave little girl. XxX