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(diaryland) June 22, 2006 - 11:39 p.m.

We were about to go out and make a movie about an astronaut who goes to sleep. Just before we were about to leave, my sister found a cockroach in her shoe. She screamed and managed to lift the shoe and get it to the toilet in order to flush the thing down the loo.

This happened, according to plan.

As we were leaving, we realised that we needed astronaut gloves. My early nineties rainbow ski gloves weren't quite hitting the mark.

We drove to a hardware shop. Roland ran in to look at the glove range. My sister was haunted by the fact that there had been a cockroach in her shoe. She said she imagined that her shoe was still seething with activity. My words, not hers. I can't remember what she said exactly.

I said, why don't you just take off the shoe and check? Maybe you didn't actually get the cockroach out in the first place. She said, I saw it exit the shoe. I said, ok then. She took the shoe off anyway, and lo and behold, another cockroach popped out.

Yuck.

After a hell of a lot of fuss, she swept the cockroach off the car seat and onto the road with the flourish of a crumpled brochure.

What are the chances of having two cockroaches in your shoe, man? That's a bad experience.

I just want to say that my parents do have a clean house as far as I know.

Probably more traumatic for myself, I had a dream where I married my other sister in a white wedding, and Rob from Big Brother either gave me away at the altar, or her away. I can't remember. I think the marriage was only for reasons of convenience, but I'm still a bit shaken.

Boy, does my right armpit hurt slightly.




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