Dear diary,

They say the winds of change are blowing. Never was truer word spoken!

We went to bed very late last night, after sitting up reading Goethe ‘Faust’, about a man who sold his soul to the Devil in return for unlimited knowledge. I heard my owner muttering that it would have been simpler if he had sold his passport for money.

I had a fitful night. I dreamt I was on that Chinese container ship, and that we got caught in storm. The ship had capsized and we were sinking. My feet felt the cold icy water rising. Then I was submerged. I was drowning!

That’s when I woke up. It was no nightmare! I was really submerged, and I was being swirled round by something. I panicked.

Then I saw a porthole. Was I really back in the ship?

I realised that if it was indeed a porthole, there must be the ocean outside. Instead, I saw a table and two chairs, and a plastic clothes bin.

I was inside my owner’s washing machine.

Fortunately, he had set the programme to cold wash, and I could swim up and breathe.

I actually started to enjoy it once the panic died down.

After twenty minutes the water drained away and I was taken out to dry. I thought I’d sun myself for a few hours. Maybe I could even get a tan!

Instead I had to make do with a blow dry. I still enjoyed it though. It was like riding through the desert in a motorbike.

I came out of it looking very incredibly sexy and casual. I like my new look, and so did my owner. It makes us both look twenty years younger.

Hey, perhaps we’re going to live in the palace again.

Who knows what the future will bring?

Tomorrow is another day.

That wig looks like a prototype Vileda product.

This one was made on Wuthering Heights.