Home sweet home.
For the next four and half months I lived with my new room mates: Jessica, Lettuce, Belle, Edward and Tom in a third floor flat off the Fulham Road. It was called Chelsea and Westminster Hospital, which is a funny name for a block of flats.
It would have cost us a fortune to live there because Chelsea is dead posh but luckily we all got housing benefit.
Thanks Gordon Brown. No one else likes you but we do.
He also paid for giants to look after us called nurses, because we were too small to cook for ourselves, or make tea or wipe our bottoms or go to the shops. And even if we could have made it to the shops we wouldn’t have been able to see over the counter anyway.
Our giant friends were very nice and helped us out all day and all night. Even when some of us forgot to breathe and went blue. (I did this a few times but only because I like the colour blue.)
