Sunday, 1 st September
Hello New Diary,
My name is Davina Dupree, I’m ten and a half and I’m kind of in shock because my parents have just left me in Egmont Exclusive Boarding School for Girls. They took off in our deluxe helicopter from the middle of an enormous hockey pitch about five minutes ago and for once no one stared because arriving by helicopter is a normal thing here. A couple of girls even touched down in private jets - there’s a landing strip squashed next to the tennis courts with a big sign next to it saying, ‘NO Ball Games, Walking, Running or Cycling on the Runway Please’. Can you imagine!
So here I am. Abandoned. Mum shoved a brochure about the school on to my bed a couple of months ago. It had glossy photos of girls in pink, purple and white uniforms doing things like painting huge pictures, riding horses, learning to fly small aircraft (yes, really, it’s that kind of school), swimming in a dolphin shaped pool with multi coloured water slides, feeding chickens in the school farm and doing gymnastics. The school building itself looks like a fairytale palace, all white marble and turrets with violet roses climbing up its walls. Quite impressive.
Mum then announced that this incredibly expensive private school would be my new home for a while as she and Dad had been assigned secret posts on an island in the Pacific Ocean. I’m never sure what their job is and they say they can’t tell me for my own safety, but I think they work for the Secret Service as spies or something. They are good sorts really but we don’t spend much time together. It’s my wispy haired old nanny, Carrie Whepple, who usually looks after me. She’s really kind and always smells of strawberry and vanilla cakes because she bakes them so much. She says they’re her speciality. Mmmm, yummy.com .
But the sad news is that Carrie’s just had to retire because her arthritis is so bad and she’s nearly seventy, which is mega old to be working. I cried when she told me she was leaving and actually her eyes looked a bit weepy too. She gave me a photo album full of snaps of her and me from when I was a baby and she promised to write lots and come and see me when she can. Last week, I tried to teach her how to send emails but she says she doesn’t trust computers and that you can’t beat a good, honest, handwritten letter.
I told Mum and Dad that I DID NOT WANT TO GO TO BOARDING SCHOOL because I wanted to stay near Carrie, but they didn’t listen. Instead, they just muttered things I couldn’t really hear, that sounded like, ‘the school will be good for you’ and ‘other girls your own age’.
So hey ho, here I am actually sitting on my own bed in the incredibly expensive private school, wearing the pink, purple and white uniform, with Carrie’s photo album next to me. I’ve just looked through it again. You, dear Diary, are a present from Mum and Dad. As always, they’ve paid for the very best and you are have a white leather cover with a pink buckle to do you up and small yellow flowers embroidered over your front. Very pretty.com . Mum knows I like writing so she’s probably hoping you’ll keep me busy.
I’m kind of used to being alone anyway, because I’m an only child. I know some people think only children are spoiled brats and I suppose I am when it comes to money because my parents have got so much of it! Honestly, I don’t know where they get it all from. Altogether, they own two mansions - one in the city and one in the country, a villa by the sea and four holiday apartments in different countries around the world. As well as the helicopter, they’ve got five vintage cars, a speed boat and a yacht. I heard Dad saying once that he’d like to buy a private train and track one day. But what’s the point of having all that if you’re never around to enjoy it? I don’t know, I really don’t, I do despair of Pip and Sally. (I like to call my parents by their first names sometimes because we have
Hello New Diary,
My name is Davina Dupree, I’m ten and a half and I’m kind of in shock because my parents have just left me in Egmont Exclusive Boarding School for Girls. They took off in our deluxe helicopter from the middle of an enormous hockey pitch about five minutes ago and for once no one stared because arriving by helicopter is a normal thing here. A couple of girls even touched down in private jets - there’s a landing strip squashed next to the tennis courts with a big sign next to it saying, ‘NO Ball Games, Walking, Running or Cycling on the Runway Please’. Can you imagine!
So here I am. Abandoned. Mum shoved a brochure about the school on to my bed a couple of months ago. It had glossy photos of girls in pink, purple and white uniforms doing things like painting huge pictures, riding horses, learning to fly small aircraft (yes, really, it’s that kind of school), swimming in a dolphin shaped pool with multi coloured water slides, feeding chickens in the school farm and doing gymnastics. The school building itself looks like a fairytale palace, all white marble and turrets with violet roses climbing up its walls. Quite impressive.
Mum then announced that this incredibly expensive private school would be my new home for a while as she and Dad had been assigned secret posts on an island in the Pacific Ocean. I’m never sure what their job is and they say they can’t tell me for my own safety, but I think they work for the Secret Service as spies or something. They are good sorts really but we don’t spend much time together. It’s my wispy haired old nanny, Carrie Whepple, who usually looks after me. She’s really kind and always smells of strawberry and vanilla cakes because she bakes them so much. She says they’re her speciality. Mmmm, yummy.com .
But the sad news is that Carrie’s just had to retire because her arthritis is so bad and she’s nearly seventy, which is mega old to be working. I cried when she told me she was leaving and actually her eyes looked a bit weepy too. She gave me a photo album full of snaps of her and me from when I was a baby and she promised to write lots and come and see me when she can. Last week, I tried to teach her how to send emails but she says she doesn’t trust computers and that you can’t beat a good, honest, handwritten letter.
I told Mum and Dad that I DID NOT WANT TO GO TO BOARDING SCHOOL because I wanted to stay near Carrie, but they didn’t listen. Instead, they just muttered things I couldn’t really hear, that sounded like, ‘the school will be good for you’ and ‘other girls your own age’.
So hey ho, here I am actually sitting on my own bed in the incredibly expensive private school, wearing the pink, purple and white uniform, with Carrie’s photo album next to me. I’ve just looked through it again. You, dear Diary, are a present from Mum and Dad. As always, they’ve paid for the very best and you are have a white leather cover with a pink buckle to do you up and small yellow flowers embroidered over your front. Very pretty.com . Mum knows I like writing so she’s probably hoping you’ll keep me busy.
I’m kind of used to being alone anyway, because I’m an only child. I know some people think only children are spoiled brats and I suppose I am when it comes to money because my parents have got so much of it! Honestly, I don’t know where they get it all from. Altogether, they own two mansions - one in the city and one in the country, a villa by the sea and four holiday apartments in different countries around the world. As well as the helicopter, they’ve got five vintage cars, a speed boat and a yacht. I heard Dad saying once that he’d like to buy a private train and track one day. But what’s the point of having all that if you’re never around to enjoy it? I don’t know, I really don’t, I do despair of Pip and Sally. (I like to call my parents by their first names sometimes because we have
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