The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole (8 page)

Home tomorrow.

3 AM
Just had a dream about stabbing Lucas with the toothpick on my penknife. Best dream I’ve had for ages.

2.10 PM
. So my little sojourn in Sheffield is drawing to a dose. I am catching the 7.10 PM train which only leaves five hours to do my packing. My father was right. I didn’t need two suitcases of clothes. Still it is better to be safe than sorry, I always say. I shan’t be sorry to leave this sordid flat with the coughing neighbours, though naturally I have some regrets about my mother’s stubbornness in refusing to come home with me.

I told her that the dog was pining to death for her but she rang my father up and like a fool he told her that the dog had just eaten a whole tin of Pedigree Chum and a bowl of Winalot.

I told her about my father and Doreen Slater, hoping to send her mad with jealousy, but she just laughed and said, ‘Oh is Doreen still making the rounds?’ I have done my best to get her back, but must admit defeat.

11 PM
. Journey back a nightmare, non-smoking compartments all full, forced to share carriage with pipes, cigars and cigarettes. Queued for twenty minutes for a cup of coffee in the buffet. Just got to the counter when the grille came down and the man put up a sign saying: ‘Closed due to signal failure’! Got back to seat, found a soldier in my place. Found another seat, but had to endure maniac sitting opposite telling me he had a radio inside his head controlled by Fidel Castro.

My father met me at the station, the dog jumped up to meet me, missed, and nearly fell in front of the 9.23 PM Birmingham express.

My father said he had had Doreen Slater for tea. By the state of the house I should think he’d had her for breakfast, dinner and tea! I have never seen the woman, but from the evidence she left behind I know she has got bright red hair, wears orange lipstick and sleeps on the left side of the bed.

What a homecoming!

My father said Doreen had ironed my school clothes ready for the morning. What did he expect? Thanks?

Mrs Bull taught us to wash up in Domestic Science. Talk about teaching your grandmother to suck eggs! I must be one of the best washer-uppers in the world! Barry Kent broke an unbreakable plate so Mrs Bull sent him out of the room. I saw him smoking quiteopenly in the corridor. He has certainly got a nerve! I felt it was my duty to report him to Mrs Bull. I did this purely out of concern for Barry Kent’s health. He was taken to pop-eye Scruton and his Benson and Hedges were confiscated. Nigel said he saw Mr Scruton smoking them in the staff room at dinner-time, but surely this can’t be true?

Pandora and Craig Thomas are creating a scandal by flaunting their sexuality in the playground. Miss Elf had to knock on the staff-room window and ask them to stop kissing.

Mr Scruton made a speech in assembly this morning. It was about the country’s lack of morals, but really he was talking about Pandora and Craig Thomas. The speech didn’t do any good because while we were singing ‘There is a Green Hill Far Away’, I distinctly saw glances of a passionate nature pass between them.

My father is worried, electric storage heaters are not selling well. My father says this proves that consumers are not as stupid as everyone thinks. I’m fed up with him mooning about the house at night. I have advised him to join a club or get a hobby but he isdetermined to feel sorry for himself. The only time he laughs is when those advertisements for electric storage heaters are shown on television. Then he laughs himself silly.

I was seriously menaced at school today. Barry Kent threw my snaplock executive brief-case on to the rugby pitch. I have got to find two pounds quickly before he starts throwing
me
on to the rugby pitch. It’s no good asking my father for money, he is in despair because of all the red bills.

Grandma rang early this morning to say ‘Cast ne’er a clout till May be out’. I haven’t got the faintest idea what she was going on about. All I know is that it has something to do with vests.

I am pleased to report that Barry Kent and his gang have been banned from the Off The Streets youth club. (But this means that they are now
on
the streets, worse luck.) They filled a French letter with water and threw it at a bunch of girls and made them scream. Pandora burst the thing with a badge pin and Rick Lemon came out of his office and slipped in the water. Rick was dead mad, he got dirty marks all over his yellow trousers. Pandora helped Rick to throw the gang out, she looked dead fierce. I expect she will win the medal for ‘Most helpful member of the year’.

Had a letter from Grace Pool! This is what it said:

Dear Adrian,

Thank you for your charming letter of thanks. It fair brightened up my day. The girls are all joshing me about my suitor. I am due for parole on June isth, would it be possible to come and see you? Your Auntie Susan is one of the best screws in here, that’s why I obliged and made the toothbrush holder. See you on the fifteenth then.

Yours with fond regards,

Grace Pool

PS. I was falsely convicted of arson but that is all in the past now.

My God! What shall I do?

Second after Easter

There is nothing left in the freezer, nothing in the pantry and only slimming bread in the bread bin. I don’t know what my father does with all the money. I was forced to go round to grandma’s before I died from malnutrition. At four o’clock I had one of thoserare moments of happiness that I will remember all my life. I was sitting in front of grandma’s electric coal fire eating dripping toast and reading the
News of the World
. There was a good play on Radio Four about torturing in concentration camps. Grandma was asleep and the dog was being quiet. All at once I felt this dead good feeling. Perhaps I am turning religious, I think I have got it in me to be a Saint of some kind.

Phoned Auntie Susan but she is on duty in Holloway. Left a message with her friend Gloria, asking Auntie Susan to ring me urgently.

Bank Holiday in UK. New Moon

Auntie Susan rang to say that Grace Pool has had her parole cancelled because she set fire to the embroidery workshop and destroyed a gross of toothbrush holders. Their loss is my gain!

Saw our postman on the way to school, he said that my mother is coming to visit me on Saturday. I’ve a good mind to report him to the Postmaster General for reading a person’s private postcard!

My father had also read my postcard by the time I got home from school. He looked pleased and startedcleaning rubbish out of the lounge, then he rang Doreen Slater and said he would have to ‘take a rain check on Saturday’s flick’. Grown ups are always telling adolescents to speak clearly then they go and talk a lot of gibberish themselves. Doreen Slater shouted down the phone. My father shouted back that he ‘didn’t want a long-term relationship’, he had ‘made that clear from the start’, and that ‘nobody could replace his Pauline’. Doreen Slater went shrieking on and on until my father slammed the phone down. The phone kept ringing until my father took the phone off the hook. He went mad doing housework until 2 AM this morning, and it’s only Tuesday! What will he be like on Saturday morning? The poor fool is convinced that my mother is coming back for good.

I am proud to report that I have been made a school-dinner monitor. My duties are to stand at the side of the pig bin and make sure that my fellow pupils scrape their plates properly.

Bert Baxter rang the school to ask me to call round urgently. Mr Scruton told me off, he said the school telephone was not for the convenience of the pupils. Get stuffed, Scruton, you pop-eyed git!!! Bert was ina terrible state. He had lost his false teeth. He has had them since 1946, they have got sentimental value for him because they used to belong to his father. I looked everywhere for them, but couldn’t find them.

I went to the shops and bought him a tin of soup and a butterscotch Instant Whip. It was all he could manage at the moment. I have promised to go round tomorrow and look again. Sabre was happy for once; he was chewing something in his kennel.

My father is still cleaning the house up. Even Nigel commented on how clean the kitchen floor looked. I wish my father wouldn’t wear the apron though, he looks like a poofter in it.

Found Bert’s teeth in Sabre’s kennel. Bert rinsed them under the tap and put them back in his mouth! This is the most revolting thing I have ever seen.

My father has got bunches of flowers to welcome my mother home. They are all over the house stinking the place out.

Mr Lucas’s house has been sold at last. I saw the estate agent’s minion putting the board up. I hope the new people are respectable. I am reading
The Mill onthe Floss
, by a bloke called George Eliot.

I was woken up at 8.30 by a loud banging on the front door. It was an Electricity Board official. I was amazed to hear that he had come to turn off pur electricity! My father owes £95.79?. I told the official that we needed electricity for life’s essentials like the television and stereo, but he said that people like us are sapping the country’s strength. He went to the meter cupboard, did something with tools, and the second hand on the kitchen clock stopped. It was dead symbolic. My father came in from fetching the
Daily Express
. He was whistling and lopking dead cheerful. He even asked the official if he would like a cup of tea! The official said, ‘No thank you’, and hurried up the path and got into his little blue van. My father switched the electric kettle on. I was forced to tell him.

Naturally I got the blame! My father said I should have refused entry. I told him that he should have put all the bill money away each week like grandma does. But he just went berserk. My mother turned up with Lucas! It was just like old times with everybody shouting at once. I took the dog to the shops and bought five boxes of candles. Mr Lucas lent me the money.

When I got back I stood in the hall and heard my mother say, ‘No wonder you can’t pay the bills, George; just look at all these flowers. They must have cost a fortune’. She said it very kindly. Mr Lucas said he would lend my father a ‘ton’ but my father was verydignified and said, ‘All I want from you, Lucas, is my wife’. My mother complimented my father on how nicely he was keeping the house. My father just looked sad and old. I felt dead sorry for him.

I was sent outside while they talked about who was getting custody of me, the arguing went on for ages. In fact until it was time to light the candles.

Lucas spilt candle-wax over his new suede shoes. It was the only cheerful incident in a tragic day.

When my mother and Lucas had gone off in a taxi I went to bed with the dog. I heard my father talking to Doreen Slater on the phone, then the front door slammed and I looked out of my window to see him driving off in the car. The back seat was full of flowers.

Thirdafter Easter. Mother’s Day,
USA
and Canada. Moon’s First Quarter

Didn’t get up until half-past four this afternoon. I think I am suffering from depression. Nothing happened at all today, apart from a hail storm around six o’clock.

Bert Baxter offered to lend us a paraffin heater. Our gas central heating won’t work without electricity. I thanked him but refused his kind offer. I have read that they are easily knocked over and our dog would no doubt cause a towering inferno.

If it gets out that our electricity has been cut off, I will cut my throat. The shame would be too much to bear.

Had a long talk with Mr Vann the Careers teacher today. He said that if I want to be a vet I will have to do Physics, Chemistry and Biology for O level. He said that Art, Woodwork and Domestic Science won’t do much good.

I am at the Crossroads in my life. The wrong decision now could result in a tragic loss to the veterinary world. I am hopeless at science. I asked Mr Vann which O levels you need to write situation comedy for television. Mr Vann said that you don’t need qualifications at all, you just need to be a moron.

Had an in-depth talk about O levels with my father, he advised me to only do the subjects that I am good at. He said that vets spend half their working life with their hands up cows’ bums, and the other half injecting spoiled fat dogs. So I am rethinking my future career prospects.

I wouldn’t mind being a sponge-diver, but I don’t think there is much call for them in England.

Miss Sproxton told me off because my English essay was covered in drops of candle-wax. I explained that I had caught my overcoat sleeve on the candle whilst doing my homework. Her eyes filled with tears and she said I was ‘a dear brave lad’, and she gave me a merit mark.

After supper of cream crackers and tuna fish, played cards in the candlelight. It was dead good. My father cut the ends off our gloves, we looked like two criminals on the run.

I am reading
Hard Times
, by Charles Dickens.

My grandmother has just made a surprise visit. She caught us huddled round our new Camping-gaz stove eating cold beans out of a tin. My father was reading
Playboy
under cover of the candlelight and I was reading
Hard Times
by my key-ring torch. We were quite contented. My father had just said that it was a ‘good training for when civilization collapses’ when grandma burst in and started having hysterics. She has forced us to go to her house so I am there now sleeping in my dead grandad’s bed. My father is sleeping downstairs on two armchairs pushed together. Grandma has written a Giro cheque for the electricity money, she is furious because she wanted the money for restocking her freezer. She buys two dead cows a year.