I have the distinct feeling that I may have done something they think I shouldn't. The bedroom door is shut, so no lounging around on their bed. I have been denied access to the pub for most of the evening. There have been no toys. None. Not even after dinner (ahhh...dinner, Italian tonight with pilchards and pasta!), which is a sacred tradition! Smells of boot camp to me. I'm not even allowed up on the chair in the living room. I mean, it's my chair! I tried standing outside the bedroom door, sitting beside it even, but Mum never opened it. Just shook her head at me. I am having to sleep on my own bed!

I am at a loss to explain it. I have behaved impeccably, as usual. It's been a fairly normal day. Of course, there was that really weird loud bell noise in a neighbour's house that we had to investigate on the way back from our walk. Turned out not to be a problem, but then Dad got a bit grumpy because me and Dylan had had words in the hallway while he did stuff round the house. What does he expect? Strange house, small hallway, I mean we were keeping to a timetable! Dinner follows walk, so if you linger too long on the way home from walk you might miss dinner! At the very least, you delay dinner and that, quite frankly, is just not on.

Anyway, if anything it should be me that is hacked off with them, not vice versa. Letting Dylan get all smoochy with them up on their bed all the time. They know I don't like it. Just because I don't want to go on their bed with them all the time, doesn't mean he should be able to. There is an order to the world, and they shouldn't mess with it. I am Clive and he is Dylan. I am first, he is second. I am Cocker!

Before you all start getting worried, let me reassure you. I am perfectly reasonable. I let Dylan pull me round the floor by his silly half-eaten plastic orange bear thing just this morning! I haven't been stealing his food, and he's not hurt. He and I made it up hours ago. But we're still in boot camp.

Boot camp sucks.