Last weekend a bunch of us camped out overnight in our fort. We made a throne out of corrugated tin for the Frightmaster to sit on, and took turns sitting on it and telling scary stories with a flashlight under our face. Jeffy told one about a ghost named Alastair who haunted the guy who stole his purple arm. Henry was so scared he peed in his sleeping bag. It was totally tubular.

My dad's trying to get me into tanning matchbook covers, but I don't see the point. What a weird hobby! I'd rather be protesting weird vintage postcards.