Dear Kitty,
              I was lying in bed the other day, thinking about moving house - because we're moving in less than a month - when I started thinking about going back to Oxford. I did a mental tour of our house in Brewer Street to see how much I could remember - turns out I remember the whole thing if I put my mind to it! - and suddenly, I realised I was crying.
              Why was I crying? Why should a memory of a house I moved out of eight years ago make me upset? I don't honestly know - but I'm wondering if I should go back or not. I'm still considering it, of course. I want to go back, but I'm honestly really scared of it. Scared of a house? Ridiculous, I know, but I honestly started panicking when it came to thinking about going upstairs. Maybe I was just stressed. Strange, aren't I?
              William had a crisis with a friend last night, so we stayed up until three and played chess. He's feeling better now, which is good, but I'm still worried about him. I'll be extra nice to him for the next few days - or at least until he starts being irritating again. We don't get on much - but I think we have definitely become closer since he came to Oundle. At this rate, I'll actually miss him on my gap year!
Yours,
           Francesca