Mrs. Fry's Diary (15 page)

'Look,' I snapped at the large uniformed gentleman behind the desk, 'I don't know what this is all about . . .'

'Ssssshh,' said the man, holding out his fist towards me. 'What is this?'

He slowly opened his fingers to reveal a small clear bag filled with some kind of fine powder. I couldn't believe it! All the time Antonio was wining and dining me, he was just using me to smuggle illegal substances for him. He must have slipped it into my pocket when I took that nap after the meal. No doubt he had some contact here who would find a way to get it back off me when the time was right. I was furious. And sad. But mostly furious.

28 Sunday

Spent last night in the airport high-security wing. Surprised to see Adrian and Samantha there. Had a lovely chat. Who would have thought they were international jewel thieves? At least that explains why they were so evasive. Actually, I'm quite relieved. I was beginning to think they didn't like Stephen.

29 Monday

Home at last. They finally released me, thank goodness. Apparently, the results had come back from the lab and they couldn't charge me with being in possession of a secret blend of 11 herbs and spices. It would appear that the wine we had with our meal was somewhat stronger than I realised. I do hope Antonio's mother will forgive me for taking a small sample of her secret recipe while under the influence.

30 Tuesday

Oh well. Back to normality. Stephen went off in his taxi as usual this morning and I did the unpacking. Funny - I don't remember taking a toy dinosaur.

31 Wednesday

Still experiencing those post-holiday blues so I went to town for a spot of retail therapy. My new advent calendar and Easter eggs really cheered me up.

September

1 Thursday

Wonderful news! Stephen Junior's been accepted into the Young Offenders' School for the Dramatic Arts. A Fry in the acting profession! Who would ever have thought it? Of course, Stephen had to give his customary 'No son of mine' speech (honestly, if I've heard it once I've heard it a thousand times, most notably at Hugh Junior's birth), but in the end he was forced to relent, albeit grudgingly, so a week on Monday will be Stephen Junior's first day at YODA.

2 Friday

Stephen's such a typical bloke. He's just stuck his Football League fixture list on the bedroom ceiling. You can barely see the mirror now.

3 Saturday

Took the kids to Poundsweater to get their new school uniforms today. Of course, I wouldn't normally countenance such an outrageous extravagance - usually, Hugh Junior wears Stephen Junior's hand-me-downs, Brangelina wears Viennetta's and the twins wear each other's. This only leaves Stephen Junior and Viennetta, but as they spend most of their time on suspension - generally for not wearing the school uniform (or in Viennetta's case, very much at all) - that's never been a problem.

This year, however, things have changed. Not only have the primary, secondary and nursery schools amalgamated to save money (a logistical nightmare, as every classroom now legally requires state-of-the-art computer equipment, the complete works of Shakespeare and a sandpit), but following Ms Tripplemount's early retirement the local council has brought in a new 'super-head', Mr deClarkson, in a last-ditch attempt to 'turn the schools round'.

According to the email Mr deClarkson sent out yesterday, 'Smart appearance = Smart brains', so one of the first things to be implemented is a brand new school uniform. In come bright red pullovers emblazoned with the school crest, striped school ties and school caps; and out go school hoodies, school N-Dubz T-shirts and school holsters.

Which is all well and good but it's us poor parents who have to bear the brunt. I shall be surprised if I have much change left from PS20.

4 Sunday

I told Stephen I didn't fancy playing lady of the manor and naughty farmhand this morning, but he's ploughing on regardless.

5 Monday

First day of the new school year. After six weeks with the little darlings, it's always awfully sad to see them walk out of that front door with their little bags slung over their shoulders. Fortunately, our bedroom window faces the back yard so I don't have to.

6 Tuesday

I must say, Hugh Junior seems to have settled into the new school very quickly. He was terribly excited when he told me about the purpose-built science block (complete with its own Petri dish and Bunsen burner) when he got back yesterday. He seems genuinely enthusiastic about learning. Obviously he gets that from me.

7 Wednesday

Received another email from Mr deClarkson. He says that having spent a couple of days familiarising himself with the 'socio-economic-appropriate challenges facing this learning facilitation environment' he has decided to introduce a new disciplinary system. He clearly means business. With immediate effect, he's banning swearing, blades and narcotics from the school premises, and that even extends to the pupils.

8 Thursday

Found Stephen relieving himself in the wardrobe again last night. He wasn't drunk. He just really hates that new shirt I bought him.

9 Friday

Stephen's just texted. Apparently, he's moved on from the Red Lion to Spearmint Ronnie's. That's what I love about my Stephen - he's so considerate. Whenever he gets the drunken urge to frequent a jazz and lap-dancing establishment, he always lets me know - very often in capitals, with a LOL or OMG for good measure.

10 Saturday

What a lovely surprise. If there's one cultural event that unites the Fry family it's Scufflemania, the pinnacle of the year's fight season. This year, for the very first time, it's being held in our own Red Lion car park and Stephen's got us all tickets for tomorrow night. Of course it's not really my cup of tea, but being the selfless individual I am I'm happy to make the effort in the cause of family unity.

11 Sunday

What a night! Scufflemania certainly doesn't disappoint. We arrived early and took up our seats on the recycle bin. The crisp packets, vomit and sexually experimental couples had been tidied away and the car park had been transformed into a modern day Colosseum, awaiting the entry of the gladiators who would battle it out for the envied title of Undisputed Pub Car Park Champion.

It wasn't long before the place was full, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. As 11 o'clock approached, the car park fell silent. The security lights were dimmed and all eyes strained to focus on the entrance to the snug. Suddenly, Sparks' seventies high-energy pop classic, 'This Town Ain't Big Enough For the Both of Us' struck up from the pub jukebox, the lights rose to full beam and out strode the first competitor to a combination of wild applause and verbal abuse. Over the karaoke mic, the landlord announced him as 'Steroid - the five-foot-two-inch borderline psychotic powerhouse from Lytham St Anne's'. 'Steroid', aka Shane Watkins, limbered up on the floodlit tarmac by punching several members of the front row as his opponent B.G.B. entered the arena, also to the strains of Sparks' seventies high-energy pop classic, 'This Town Ain't Big Enough For the Both of Us'. The jukebox has a very limited selection. Apparently, it's either Sparks or Enya.

The fight see-sawed from one man to the other, with Steroid having the upper hand for many of the early rounds before Big Girl's Blouse struck back with his trademark move, the broken bottle. In the end Steroid was triumphant, securing a place in the final with the classic 'lawnmower to the face'. There, he was pitted against the mysterious Masked Chief Inspector Bryant, conqueror of the much-fancied Caretaker.

It was a gruelling encounter, but after 30 bruising minutes a combination of guile, stamina and a set of incriminating photographs was enough to put Steroid away in the fourth. The Masked Chief Inspector left the arena holding the championship belt aloft, to a chorus of disapproval and 'Orinoco Flow'.

12 Monday

Stephen Junior's first day at YODA. It's so nice to see him enthusiastic about something other than mindless violence and Lion bars. Today they gave an introductory lecture, detailing all the different components of the course. It's quite a range, I must say - everything from busking skills to vocal projection for
Big Issue
sellers. Stephen Junior's opted initially for 'Extras Work for Beginners: How to Blend Seamlessly into the Background' and 'Overacting on a Budget: The Straight to Video Method'.

13 Tuesday

Very exciting! Only his second day and Stephen Junior's been given a part in the school's Christmas production of Stephen Sondheim's Kray twins musical
A Little R 'n' R
. He's got the role of Man in Kebab Shop. Even Stephen was impressed when I told him, although he still maintains that acting is no kind of career and he ought to get something more fitting to 'a real man' - presumably, 'real man in real kebab shop'.

14 Wednesday

Inspired by Stephen Junior, I've started a new course this evening myself. Sadly, the creative writing isn't running this term, due to the lecturer taking a sabbatical to go round the world (he's travelling by balloon - should be back in just under three months, apparently), so I've opted instead for a poetry course. I must say the lecturer, Angela Wordsmith, is lovely. She's a published poet, awfully poised and elegant - rather like a very slightly younger version of myself - and she seems to have taken quite a shine to me. I think she probably senses a kindred spirit - after all, I do have the soul of a poet. In fact, I don't know why I haven't done this sooner. To think, all those years of creative brilliance wasted. Thank goodness I realised in time, otherwise the world might have been denied my genius.

Tonight was an informal introductory session, clearly aimed at those members of the class less gifted than I. We sat in a circle, discussing our influences. I have to say I did feel a twinge of embarrassment for the others as they trotted out the usual suspects - Keats, Byron, Coleridge . . . Honestly, you'd think no one since the twelfth century had written a poem.

After that, we had a little workshop in which we each had just 10 minutes to write a poem, or a stream of consciousness, as Ms Wordsmith called it, on the subject of autumn. Then we each took a turn to read ours to the rest of the group. I was a little nervous initially but, having heard the first few efforts, I knew I had nothing to worry about. When it came to my turn, I rose confidently from my chair and, holding my sheet of A4 at arm's length, I proceeded to read. I'm so proud of my effort that I've stuck it in this diary for posterity . . .

'AUTUMN' by Edna Fry (Mrs)

I woke up this morning and peered through the curtain,

And spied an odd sight that was strange, that's for certain.

A beautiful carpet had covered the ground,

A carpet of orange, red, yellow and brown . . .

I said to myself, 'What is this that I see?'

A ground-covering carpet? Why, this cannot be!

But then I looked closer. I looked at the trees,

I looked at the sky and the absence of bees.

The trees were all bare, it was not time for lunch,

So I crunched and I munched through my leafless branch brunch.

I wolfed down my breakfast of tea, toast and jam,

Of bacon and shmacon and green eggs and Spam.