followed, his fatigue forgotten in the thrill of the chase and the hugely entertaining nature of the piglets.

Back at the pond, it looked as though the children were going to catch their piglets again without any problem – the pond was in front of them and there was no escape either side. Pigs aren’t very good swimmers, so Megsie slowed down and gestured to Celia and Vincent to do the same. They crept up on the piglets, who were looking around as if they realised they were trapped. But then another very odd thing occurred. The piglets looked at the children, chortled and suddenly DIVED balletically into the pond, making a sort of whee! noise.

Megsie gasped, Celia pointed and Vincent gave a shout of surprise.

‘We’ll have to go in after them,’ said Megsie, starting to take off her wellies. But then, up came two wet pink heads and the piglets started to bring their little trotters up and down in unison, going from left to right in the pond and staring at the children enthusiastically.

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Celia was astounded. Like Cyril, her experience of pigs was limited to the rashers of bacon brought to her bedroom by her maidservant in the mornings. ‘Can all pigs do synchronised swimming?’ she asked innocently.

‘No,’ said Megsie, and then started to laugh. The piglets were so comical in the water. Vincent giggled and Celia giggled and soon everyone was just enjoying the show. Then, just as suddenly as they had started, the piglets swam elegantly to the other side of the pond, got out, shook themselves like a couple of dogs and ran off. Megsie groaned through her laughter.

‘We’ve got to catch them!’ she said, and once again, the three children raced off in hot pursuit.

Now all the piglets were heading in the same direction, and Norman and Cyril reached the top of a little hill at exactly the same time as Celia, Megsie and Vincent. Everyone started babbling at once about what they’d seen when Vincent suddenly shouted, ‘Look!’

Everyone turned. There, on the very top of the hill, were the piglets, all seven of them. They were flying in formation around the old cherry tree, looking for all the world like a carousel at a funfair but with NOTHING HOLDING THEM UP.

‘They’re flying!’ said Vincent.

Awed and thrilled, the children approached the carousel of pigs and watched and clapped. Then Norman said, out of the corner of his mouth, ‘Listen, everyone. Get in a circle round the tree. When I say the word, grab them!’

The children began to encircle the tree. The piglets were having such a good time flying that they didn’t appear to notice. But just at the moment when Norman hissed, ‘Now!’ they all dropped to the ground and ran off gleefully, giving no one the chance to catch even one of them. Norman was getting frustrated.

‘How on earth are we going to catch them now? They can fly, they can swim and they can climb trees – we’re done for! What am I going to tell Mum?’

Everyone went very quiet. The piglets had been wonderful to watch, it was true, but if it meant that they couldn’t be caught, the situation was serious indeed. Cyril had been thinking. He was also scratching in the mud with a stick.

‘What we need are tactics,’ he said importantly. ‘A movement order. A plan.’

‘Oh yes?’ said Norman sarcastically. ‘And where did you learn tactics then?’

‘Cadet school,’ said Cyril.

‘Oh,’ said Norman. ‘Fair enough. Let’s hear it then.’

So Cyril proceeded to outline his plan . . .

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The Diary 18

Still hotter than Hades. Talking of Hades, an odd coincidence in our world is that Ralph Fiennes is playing Hades in the next-door stage in The Clash of the Titans. I am going to visit. Ralph is playing our Lord Gray later in the shoot. Am very curious to see his Hades costume. Liam Neeson is also in it, giving his Zeus. Blimey. Grand or what?

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Later: Have been next door to visit the Titans. They are all in an excessive amount of plastic armour and woollens and nearly dead from the heat. They don’t have enough air conditioning and what’s more, they are shooting Olympus and the entire set is floodlit and dotted with actual flaming torches. I’ve never seen hotter actors in my life. Plus, this week is set to be the hottest for many years. It’s 32°C in London! Great. Thanks, O Weather Gods.

I am too exhausted and sweaty to write much.

Next day: Still hotter. We