Dear Die-ary...

I'm rather... out of breath... right now. And I'll tell you why.

When I came home today, I found a letter stuck in the letter box. A red one. I instantly recognised what kind of letter it was, a 'you were not home' notice that it put in your letterbox when they couldn't deliver your package to you. I rejoiced, that meant that my package was in england at last. The package? None other than a Zim toy (Insert groan #52 here). As no parental transport was available until after 5 pm, and the post office closes at 5 pm, I had no other choice than to retrieve it myself. So The quickest way there and back was by bike.

So I got my trusty (not rusty) chopper bike from my garage, and got a small bag ready to contain a packet, as the red letter said it was a packet. So I set off, trying to dodge the bins (well done for choosing garbage-collecting day to get my toy) and falling into the road every time. Crossing the road wasn't easy, either, as cars were flying everywhere which did not want to let a desperate little curly-haired black-wearing chopper-riding little girl go and get her beloved toy. But somehow I managed to cross, get over the bridge, and miraculously I remembered the way there. When I got there, havs and layabouts were everywhere, and I was paranoid about my bike being stolen, so while I waited for assistance, I kept an eye on my bike. Suddenly, a little girl popped in, chatting away to someone. Then a women followed her. A man finally appeared, and I passed over my red letter, and he got something off a shelf... Shock, horror. I only had room in my bag for a packet, but what he passed over was a box. I almost cried. I went outside, and furiously endeavoured to open the box, so I could transfer my toy to my bag. I saw I was getting nowhere, and the lady inside saw that too. She commented, "Must be something exciting!" This is where I found the opportunity to succeed in opening it. I asked as politely as I could if I could try to get the box opened using some keys. Thankfully she accepted, but opened the box herself (probably doesn't trust a girl wearing black). Finally the selotape freed the box open, I thanked her (very muchly so) and she left with her child who was asking what she was doing. I quickly threw Zim into my bag (I want no stealers!!) and went on my way.

I found it more difficult going back than coming to Wimborne (I live in Merley, by the way, and I believe the journey was about 2 miles altogether). I think it was because I had to go up a giant hill. Oh and, about the box, I perched it on the back of the seat on the bike (one advantage of choppers). As I was about to cross the road to get close to home, the box fell off in the middle of a busy road. I thought the oncoming car would crush it, but thankfully I was allowed to go and retrieve it. I would've smiled at the driver at this point, but I was so weak I decided it would be best to save my energy. I was... so glad to get home. And even now, Zimmy's perched on my knee, and seems to be reading my adventure. And that is love... or just stupidity.

# Bobbin slithered back into the shadows at 5:03 PM