What a night! Too exhausted to write more just for the moment. The photos tell their own story

Miss HHG told me today that we were to go on a trip away... I find it harder and harder to say "no Miss" to her!

I was trepidatious but strangely excited as she wrapped me in her black silk scarf for the journey to London. Why *had* she taken all those shoes? 

All would soon become clear as she unpacked... 

"We're going to a place called Pedestal tonight, sweetie" she told me, "And we'll soon find a use for all those shoes!" 

How could I tell her I'd be in heaven? I'd had this 'thing' for beautiful feminine shoes and feet ever since I was accidentally dropped in Dolcis as an even-minier-andy. I had been lost among the rows and tiers of footwear, dodging the high heels as they came perilously close to me, fearful yet oddly fascinated. It'd been 3 days before I was found and by then - I was a changed mini.  I'd kept this a secret all my life and yet... Miss HHG knew! 

I have got a slight memory lapse. I can't remember what we did last night... all I can recall is that we started the night off with some drinkies and after that it's a little fuzzy. I think Miss HHG introduced me to someone called Miss K.B. Barbie.

What the hell does "come into my boudoir, mon petit André-jouet"  mean? It's all I can recall. And where did those strange markings on my back and knees come from? I am perplexed....

24th March 2009

Oh dear... it's all coming back to me in its Ricard-soaked, pavement-kissing awfulness. Miss HHG kindly gave me some Alka-seltzer.