My story is a weird one, but it's one that has to be told. But people need to know it if things are going to change in our world. I felt like this story has to be written down. Otherwise I don't think I would be able to keep track of all the weird things which are happening. Who knows maybe one day I will publish this. I don't know. But I want to write the adventure down in full. So in twenty years' time, if I live that long I will be able to remember what happened.

I'm Diana Grace, I am thirteen years old. I have mid-length brown hair. I have blue eyes and when describing my wardrobe now the best thing you can say about it is that's it is practical. I used dress well but I have more important things to worry about now. But I'm getting off the point. I am here to tell you a story not bore you by talking about me.

It's hard to figure out where to start but I suppose it started with lemons.I have a theory. People say if life gives you lemons make lemonade, right. But what happens if you don't have any sugar? Then all you're left with is sour lemony water. Today it seemed was the proof of that theory.

I thought this while watching moving men carrying a box of my Grandma's old Elvis records out of our apartment. I thought to myself that I would miss seeing my Grandmother listening to her Elvis records by her electric fire, how depressing.

I went to my cleared room there nothing except the bed standing in the middle of the room its sheet had been ripped off and had already been put in the van. That's a good summery of life, about to be shiped off striped of everyone i know. Dramatic I know buts that's how I felt.

It started a month ago when people from the old people's home had started to call at the house. They kept saying that Grandmother was too old to look after a child and run her own antique shop downstairs. They had tried to convince my Gran that it was the best option for her. That she would be able to retire from the shop in peace. They wanted her to go to a old peoples home

Her Grandmother had said, 'I'm very capable you know I bet I'm more capable than half of you put together.' I was rather proud of her standing up to them. But gradually Grandma started to relent until it was decided. At the End of the month Grandmother was going to Mary Thorpe retirement home and I would go to Cousin Jean's house to live with her. To be honest, I think Grandma got the better deal out of both of us.

It's not that I don't like Cousin Jean. It's that I don't even know her , never in the 15 years of my existence on this earth have she even tried to contact me. And she only lives an hour away, I never even heard of them even talk to Grandma on the phone.

I mean who does not talk to their mother for over 15 years. Grandma says it is because she has a very busy career as part of a major business firm which deals in cosmetics which means she has to spend a long time abroad. I think she uses it as an excuse, I think she finds it sad that she does not talk to her Granddaughter at all. you see the reason i wasn't going to my Aunt and uncle was the fact that they were both in the movie business in LA and the made it as a producer and a costume designer. Their daughter jean had been a little celebrity. She grown up as a model then co-owned a cosmetic business. So that's how that morning i had woken up to Grandma showing the sun which reads somewhere is the gossip columns.


Millionaire Model Jean De montakes in poor orphan relative .

Millionairess Jean De mon has taken in her poor relative her cousin Diana Grace aged 13. Diana is an orphan who ever since then has lived with her Grandmother. But now the model has extended the hand of generosity to her cousin and has taken her in into the glittering lifestyle which a model and cosmetic business woman entails. when asked about her huge generosity she says while sitting in her beautifully furnished home, 'I think it so import to be generous and at the end of the day she is family and only a monster would turn down around her family. After all family is all we will have left in this world.' It went on but i wouldn't want to bore you with the details let just say it went on about how lucky i am too have such a brilliant role model.

What did catch my attention was the newspaper article next to it saying.


Well respected lawyer undergoing physiological treatment for saying he sees Gnomes in his back garden.

A well respected lawyer Ian Shimpwood is undergoing treatment for schizophrenia after saying he sees Gnomes no numerous occasions. This is after numerous occasions Mr shipwood reporting he is seeing gnomes in his back garden and he even has the imagination of swearing they are stealing food from his house. 'I know their doing it.' he says to a reporter. 'They are crafty i will give them that.' He refuses that there is no such thing as gnomes. He is receiving treatment for paranoid Schizophrenia. Doctors say he will never make a full recovery but with a course of drugs he will hopefully be able to go back to work and live a normal life. We hope he is back in court.


It went on to talk about how people in stressed jobs have a higher percentage of mental illnesses. And it had a old picture of the lawyer coming out of the old Bailey after a case. I wondered what could go so wrong with a man's brain that he thinks he has seen fairies.

But today was more important , today i was leaving.I looked around the room in dispair. I had grown up in this room, it held memories. You could see memories everywhere, like the door hinges which were slightly broken after I had slammed the door so hard when I was six when Gran was trying to feed me broccoli one day. The scape marks on the floor where I tried to move the bed to make a den at one side of the room. The curtains Gran had taken from my parents' house in Ireland before I came to live here with my Gran. I liked living in this rickety old apartment with Gran. It was cosy.

My parent had died in a mugging in Glasgow when I was one. Two chefs who worked at a pub had often got dunk after work. One night they thought it would be funny to use their chopping knives to get money in other way. My parents had been out for their wedding anniversary and had left me at home with a baby sitter. They had been cornered by the chefs and had been told to give over their money. They gave over the money but the chefs were so drunk that they got carried away and killed dad. When mum screamed and tried to runaway they killed her as well.

I remember reading over the newspapers that my Gran had kept of the court case. Because they had a one year old child it had become the favourite sob story of the time. I was even asked to give an interview on 10 year anniversary of their death. That never ceases to amaze me I mean the cheek of asking a year old to talk about their dead parents.

The question i asked the most is, 'do i remember them?' Of course not i was one. I had a picture of them in my head and had vague voices of what they sounded like. But I had no memories of them like I had of Gran in this place. Gran had brought me up, she helped me though sleepless nights. She was the only family apart from a cousin I never met.

'Di will you help with this box,' I heard my Grandma's voice creep from the door. She had been moving stuff all day; I tried to help but ended up just getting in the way.

My lovely sulking moment was over it, had been nice while it lasted.

'Coming Gran,' I shouted as I walked to the door. My Gran was lovely she was the nicest person ever. She had short brown grey hair in a neat bob and a smile which lit up the room. She did not wear cardigans and long skirts; she was wearing a pair of loose Jeans with a floral top. She had blue green eyes which I had inherited from her side of the family.

'Now this is the last two boxes' Gran stated as I walked into the living room. 'We have to load them in the van, and then there taking me straight to the retirement home,' She informed me as I picked up the second box full of old books. 'Then Susan will pick you up at about half past six,' I nodded my head, as if I had not heard this a thousand times.

'Can I trust you not too burn the place down?'

'Well,' I pondered, 'I was hoping to make fish and chips for tea and Christmas pudding with extra brandy, so you might have to put the fire department on my speed dial.'

'Stop being cheeky and bring that box down,' she laughed.

We went downstairs to find Mrs Tilchdale head of the retirement home was smiling down at us. What a lovely surprise.

Mrs Tilchdale was tall with brown hair which looked like curled rats tails, she was like one of the women in costume dramas which played Victorian governesses which very prim and proper. And I hated her.

She had been in charge of the group who had pestered Gran to go to the retirement home and had told her that nobody her age should be looking after a child and a shop. Gran loved the shop; I could see that in her eyes as she looked back at the house

'Mrs Grace it is time to go,' Mrs Tilchdale informed my Gran. She looked impatient as she disapprovingly gazed at the shop. She had often told my Gran that it would be better for me not being in a dusty old shop and that it would be a better situation. How it was her business to say what was best for me.

My Gran turned to me 'keep yourself safe, all right Di,' she hugged me and I felt like I was about to cry. It fully hit me that was the last time I would live with my Gran. And that however often I went to visit the old people's home where she was going to live. It would not be the same. And I didn't I would be seeing her often considering my cousin's track record of visiting Gran.

'Love you Gran,' I said. Hugging her so much I surprised her bones did not break

'Love you too Di.' And with that she was in the car, she did not say anything else. I don't think she could say anything else. Neither of us could.

'Diana your cousin will be here in 2 hours,' stated Mrs Tilchdale and stepped into the car and drove off with Gran in the back.