Dear Diary. Today I phoned my sister Corryn. We're going to Butlins next month. At least we will if Corryn can tell me what dates she can get off work.

She picked up on the twentieth ring.

"Hello!" she said. She was lying on a deckchair in her garden. "It's hot here," she said.

"How hot is it?" I said.

"Pretty hot."

"Can you give me a specific number?" I said.

"I don't know, let me have a look, hang on... okay, the weather app on my iPhone says it's 20 degrees."

Jesus Christ. Just 20 degrees? That's not hot. Some days it's 40 degrees here in Spain.

"Well Paul, you'll never guess what happened to me today! I went to Wetherspoons and ordered a halloumi sandwich with aubergine..." began Corryn.

Here we go.

"...but the aubergine came fried and I wanted it grilled. I was going to complain to Wetherspoons but my friend said, 'Don't complain, you'll sound like a Karen.'"

"Well did you ask for it grilled?" I asked.

"Well, no," said Corryn.

"So what made you think they would grill it?" I asked.

"Well I saw someone else who had it grilled and I thought mine would be grilled too," said Corryn.

Jesus Christ.

"Maybe the chef's just doing whatever he wants." I said. "Maybe he was like, how should I cook this woman's aubergine? Grilled or fried? I know, I'll do eenie meenie mine moe. And what about this egg? I don't know. Maybe I'll stick it up my bum."

"They should have told me I could have had it grilled," said Corryn. "It's like when you buy a carrier bag for 20 p, but they don't tell you that you could have had a bag for life for the same price."

Yeah, I don't think that's ever happened.

"Hang on, there's someone at the door," said Corryn. "Maybe it's the postcode lottery."

It won't be the postcode lottery, it'll be the postman or someone like that.

"It's not the postcode lottery, it's the postman," said Corryn. (I told you.) "He's brought me a blind for Aurora's bedroom. Well Paul, I've got to go, I've got to put this blind together."

"Hang on, what are we going to do about Butlins?" I said. "We don't have anything booked yet."

"I'm sure it'll all sort itself out," she said.

I don’t think Butlins works like that. Maybe she means I'll have to sort it out.

"I saw they have a house we can all stay in," I said.

"Hmm, I'd prefer for me and Aurora to stay in our own apartment."

Yeah, so Corryn can drink copious amounts of alcohol in secret and pass out on the carpet.

Just then my niece Aurora came home. I could see her on the screen.

"Hello," said Aurora in a bored voice. She was wearing the school uniform of her secondary school. Then she traipsed away to her bedroom. Aurora's so rude that she's practically already a teenager.

"Aurora's going to have a shower because it's too hot," said Corryn. "Alright Paul, speak to you soon."

She hung up. And I still don't know the dates for Butlins.