The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 3⁄4

Winter 1981

Bank Holiday in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales

These are my New Year’s resolutions:

1. I will help the blind across the road.

2. I will hang my trousers up.

3. I will put the sleeves back on my records.

4. I will not start smoking.

5. I will stop squeezing my spots.

6. I will be kind to the dog.

7. I will help the poor and ignorant.

After hearing the disgusting noises from downstairs last night, I have also vowed never to drink alcohol.

My father got the dog drunk on cherry brandy at the party last night. If the RSPCA hear about it he could get done. Eight days have gone by since Christmas Day but my mother still hasn’t worn the green lurex apron I bought her for Christmas! She will get bathcubes next year.

Just my luck, I’ve got a spot on my chin for the first day of the New Year!

Bank Holiday in Scotland. Full Moon

I felt rotten today. It’s my mother’s fault for singing ‘My Way’ at two o’clock in the morning at the top of the stairs. Just my luck to have a mother like her. There is a chance my parents could be alcoholics. Next year I could be in a children’s home.

The dog got its own back on my father. It jumped up and knocked down his model ship, then ran into the garden with the rigging tangled in its feet. My father kept saying, ‘Three months’ work down the drain’, over and over again.

The spot on my chin is getting bigger. It’s my mother’s fault for not knowing about vitamins.

I shall go mad through lack of sleep! My father has banned the dog from the house so it barked outside my window all night. Just my luck! My father shouted a swear-word at it. If he’s not careful he will get done by the police for obscene language.

I think the spot is a boil. Just my luck to have it where everybody can see it. I pointed out to my mother that I hadn’t had any vitamin C today. She said, ‘Go and buy an orange, then’. This is typical.

She still hasn’t worn the lurex apron.

I will be glad to get back to school.

Second after Christmas

My father has got the flu. I’m not surprised with the diet we get. My mother went out in the rain to get him a vitamin C drink, but as I told her, ‘It’s too late now’. It’s a miracle we don’t get scurvy. My mother says she can’t see anything on my chin, but this is guilt because of the diet.

The dog has run off because my mother didn’t close the gate. I have broken the arm on the stereo. Nobody knows yet, and with a bit of luck my father will be ill for a long time. He is the only one who uses it apart from me. No sign of the apron.

The dog hasn’t come back yet. It is peaceful without it. My mother rang the police and gave a description of the dog. She made it sound worse than it actually is: straggly hair over its eyes and all that. I really think the police have got better things to do than look for dogs, such as catching murderers. I told my mother this but she still rang them. Serve her right if she was murdered because of the dog.

My father is still lazing about in bed. He is supposed to be ill, but I noticed he is still smoking!

Nigel came round today. He has got a tan from his Christmas holiday. I think Nigel will be ill soon fromthe shock of the cold in England. I think Nigel’s parents were wrong to take him abroad. He hasn’t got a single spot yet.

Epiphany. New Moon

The dog is in trouble!

It knocked a meter-reader off his bike and messed all the cards up. So now we will all end up in court I expect. A policeman said we must keep the dog under control and asked how long it had been lame. My mother said it wasn’t lame, and examined it. There was a tiny model pirate trapped in its left front paw.

The dog was pleased when my mother took the pirate out and it jumped up the policeman’s tunic with its muddy paws. My mother fetched a cloth from the kitchen but it had strawberry jam on it where I had wiped the knife, so the tunic was worse than ever. The policeman went then. I’m sure he swore. I could report him for that.

I will look up ‘Epiphany’ in my new dictionary.

Nigel came round on his new bike this morning. It has got a water bottle, a milometer, a speedometer, a yellow saddle, and very thin racing wheels. It’s wasted on Nigel. He only goes to the shops and back on it. If I had it, I would go all over the country and have an experience.

My spot or boil has reached its peak. Surely it can’t get any bigger!

I found a word in my dictionary that describes my father. It is malingerer. He is still in bed guzzling vitamin C.

The dog is locked in the coal shed.

Epiphany is something to do with the three wise men. Big deal!

Now my mother has got the flu. This means that I have to look after them both. Just my luck!

I have been up and down the stairs all day. I cooked a big dinner for them tonight: two poached eggs with beans, and tinned semolina pudding. (It’s a good job I wore the green lurex apron because the poached eggs escaped out of the pan and got all over me.) I nearly said something when I saw they hadn’t eaten any of it. They can’t be that ill. I gave it to the dog in the coal shed. My grandmother is coming tomorrow morning, so I had to clean the burnt saucepans, then take the dog for a walk. It was half-past eleven before I got to bed. No wonder I am short for my age.

I have decided against medicine for a career.

It was cough, cough, cough last night. If it wasn’t one it was the other. You’d think they’d show some consideration after the hard day I’d had.

My grandma came and was disgusted with the state of the house. I showed her my room which is always neat and tidy and she gave me fifty pence. I showed her all the empty drink bottles in the dustbin and she was disgusted.

My grandma let the dog out of the coal shed. She said my mother was cruel to lock it up. The dog was sick on the kitchen floor. My grandma locked it up again.

She squeezed the spot on my chin. It has made it worse. I told grandma about the green apron and grandma said that she bought my mother a one hundred per cent acrylic cardigan every Christmas and my mother had never ever worn one of them!

AM. Now the dog is ill! It keeps being sick so the vet has got to come. My father told me not to tell the vet that the dog had been locked in the coal shed for two days.

I have put a plaster over the spot to stop germs getting in it from the dog.

The vet has taken the dog away. He says he thinksit has got an obstruction and will need an emergency operation.

My grandma has had a row with my mother and gone home. My grandma found the Christmas cardigans all cut up in the duster bag. It is disgusting when people are starving.

Mr Lucas from next door has been in to see my mother and father who are still in bed. He brought a ‘get well’ card and some flowers for my mother. My mother sat up in bed in a nightie that showed a lot of her chest. She talked to Mr Lucas in a yukky voice. My father pretended to be asleep.

Nigel brought his records round. He is into punk, but I don’t see the point if you can’t hear the words. Anyway I think I’m turning into an intellectual. It must be all the worry.

PM. I went to see how the dog is. It has had its operation. The vet showed me a plastic bag with lots of yukky things in it. There was a lump of coal, the fir tree from the Christmas cake, and the model pirates from my father’s ship. One of the pirates was waving a cutlass which must have been very painful for the dog. The dog looks a lot better. It can come home in two days, worse luck.

My father was having a row with my grandma on the phone about the empty bottles in the dustbin when I got home.

Mr Lucas was upstairs talking to my mother. When Mr Lucas went, my father went upstairs and had an argument with my mother and made her cry. Myfather is in a bad mood. This means he is feeling better. I made my mother a cup of tea without her asking. This made her cry as well. You can’t please some people!

The spot is still there.

First after Epiphany

Now I know I am an intellectual. I saw Malcolm Muggeridge on the television last night, and I understood nearly every word. It all adds up. A bad home, poor diet, not liking punk. I think I will join the library and see what happens.

It is a pity there aren’t any more intellectuals living round here. Mr Lucas wears corduroy trousers, but he’s an insurance man. Just my luck.

The first what after Epiphany?

The dog is back. It keeps licking its stitches, so when I am eating I sit with my back to it.

My mother got up this morning to make the dog a bed to sleep in until it’s better. It is made out of a cardboard box that used to contain packets of soap powder. My father said this would make the dog sneeze and burst its stitches, and the vet would charge even more to stitch it back up again. They had a row aboutthe box, then my father went on about Mr Lucas. Though what Mr Lucas has to do with the dog’s bed is a mystery to me.

My father has gone back to work. Thank God! I don’t know how my mother sticks him.

Mr Lucas came in this morning to see if my mother needed any help in the house. He is very kind. Mrs Lucas was next door cleaning the outside windows. The ladder didn’t look very safe. I have written to Malcolm Muggeridge, c/o the BBC, asking him what to do about being an intellectual. I hope he writes back soon because I’m getting fed up being one on my own. I have written a poem, and it only took me two minutes. Even the famous poets take longer than that. It is called ‘The Tap’, but it isn’t really about a tap, it’s very deep, and about life and stuff like that.

I showed it to my mother, but she laughed. She isn’t very bright. She still hasn’t washed my PE shorts, and it is school tomorrow. She is not like the mothers on television.

Joined the library. Got Care of the Skin, Origin of Species, and a book by a woman my mother is always going on about. It is called Pride and Prejudice, by a woman called Jane Austen. I could tell the librarian was impressed.. Perhaps she is an intellectual like me. She didn’t look at my spot, so perhaps it is getting smaller. About time!

Mr Lucas was in the kitchen drinking coffee with my mother. The room was full of smoke. They were laughing, but when I went in, they stopped.

Mrs Lucas was next door cleaning the drains. She looked as if she was in a bad mood. I think Mr and Mrs Lucas have got an unhappy marriage. Poor Mr Lucas!

None of the teachers at school have noticed that I am an intellectual. They will be sorry when I am famous. There is a new girl in our class. She sits next to me in Geography. She is all right. Her name is Pandora, but she likes being called ‘Box’. Don’t ask me why. I might fall in love with her. It’s time I fell in love, after all I am 13¾ years old.

Pandora has got hair the colour of treacle, and it’s long like girls’ hair should be. She has quite a good figure. I saw her playing netball and her chest was wobbling. I felt a bit funny. I think this is it!

The dog has had its stitches out. It bit the vet, but I expect he’s used to it. (The vet I mean; I know the dog is.)

My father found out about the arm on the stereo. I told a lie. I said the dog jumped up and broke it. My father said he will wait until the dog is completely cured of its operation then kick it. I hope this is a joke.

Mr Lucas was in the kitchen again when I got home from school. My mother is better now, so why he keeps coming round is a mystery to me. Mrs Lucas was planting trees in the dark. I read a bit of Pride and Prejudice, but it was very old-fashioned. I think Jane Austen should write something a bit more modern.

The dog has got the same colour eyes as Pandora. I only noticed because my mother cut the dog’s hair. It looks worse than ever. Mr Lucas and my mother were laughing at the dog’s new haircut which is not very nice, because dogs can’t answer back, just like the Royal Family.

I am going to bed early to think about Pandora and do my back-stretching exercises. I haven’t grown for two weeks. If this carries on I will be a midget.

I will go to the doctor’s on Saturday if the spot is still there. I can’t live like this with everybody staring.

Mr Lucas came round and offered to take my mother shopping in the car. They dropped me off at school. I was glad to get out of the car what with all the laughing and cigarette smoke. We saw Mrs Lucas on the way. She was carrying big bags of shopping. My mother waved, but Mrs Lucas couldn’t wave back.

It was Geography today so I sat next to Pandora for a whole hour. She looks better every day. I told her about her eyes being the same as the dog’s. She asked what kind of dog it was. I told her it was a mongrel.

I lent Pandora my blue felt-tip pen to colour round the British Isles.

I think she appreciates these small attentions.

I started Origin of Species today, but it’s not as good as the television series. Care ofthe Skin is dead good. I have left it open on the pages about vitamins. I hope my mother takes the hint. I have left it on the kitchen table near the ashtray, so she is bound to see it.

I have made an appointment about the spot. It has turned purple.

I was woken up early this morning. Mrs Lucas is concreting the front of their house and the concrete lorry had to keep its engine running while she shovelled the concrete round before it set. Mr Lucas made her a cup of tea. He really is kind.

Nigel came round to see if I wanted to go to the pictures but I told him I couldn’t, because I was going to the doctor’s about the spot. He said he couldn’t see a spot, but he was just being polite because the spot is massive today.

Dr Taylor must be one of those overworked GPs you are always reading about. He didn’t examine the spot, he just said I mustn’t worry and was everything all right at home. I told him about my bad home life and my poor diet, but he said I was well nourished and to go home and count my blessings. So much for the National Health Service.

I will get a paper-round and go private.

Second after Epiphany. Oxford Hilary Term starts

Mrs Lucas and my mother have had a row over the dog. Somehow it escaped from the house and trampled on Mrs Lucas’s wet concrete. My father offered to have the dog put down, but my mother started to cry so he said he wouldn’t. All the neighbours were out in the street washing their cars and listening. Sometimes I really hate that dog!

I remembered my resolution about helping the poor and ignorant today, so I took some of my old Beano annuals to a quite poor family who have moved into the next street. I know they are poor because they haveonly got a black and white telly. A boy answered the door. I explained why I had come. He looked at the annuals and said, ‘I’ve read ’em’, and slammed the door in my face. So much for helping the poor!

I have joined a group at school called the Good Samaritans. We go out into the community helping and stuff like that. We miss Maths on Monday afternoons.

Today we had a talk on the sort of things we will be doing. I have been put in the old age pensioners’ group. Nigel has got a dead yukky job looking after kids in a playgroup. He is as sick as a parrot.

I can’t wait for next Monday. I will get a cassette so I can tape all the old fogies’ stories about the war and stuff. I hope I get one with a good memory.

The dog is back at the vet’s. It has got concrete stuck on its paws. No wonder it was making such a row on the stairs last night. Pandora smiled at me in school dinner today, but I was choking on a piece of gristle so I couldn’t smile back. Just my luck!

Full Moon

My mother is looking for a job!

Now I could end up a delinquent roaming the streets and all that. And what will I do during the holidays?

I expect I will have to sit in a launderette all day to keep warm. I will be a latchkey kid, whatever that is. And who will look after the dog? And what will I have to eat all day? I will be forced to eat crisps and sweets until my skin is ruined and my teeth fall out. I think my mother is being very selfish. She won’t be any good in a job anyway. She isn’t very bright and she drinks too much at Christmas.

I rang my grandma up and told her, and she says I could stay at her house in the holidays, and go to the Evergreens’ meetings in the afternoons and stuff like that. I wish I hadn’t rung now. The Samaritans met today during break. The old people were shared out. I got an old man called Bert Baxter. He is eighty-nine so I don’t suppose I’ll have him for long. I’m going round to see him tomorrow. I hope he hasn’t got a dog. I’m fed up with dogs. They are either at the vet’s or standing in front of the television.

Mr and Mrs Lucas are getting a divorce! They are the first down our road. My mother went next door to comfort Mr Lucas. He must have been very upset because she was still there when my father came home from work. Mrs Lucas has gone somewhere in a taxi. I think she has left for ever because she has taken her socket set with her. Poor Mr Lucas, now he will have to do his own washing and stuff.

My father cooked the tea tonight. We had boil-in-the-bag curry and rice, it was the only thing left in the freezer apart from a bag of green stuff which has lost its label. My father made a joke about sending it to the public health inspector. My mother didn’t laugh. Perhaps she was thinking about poor Mr Lucas left on his own.

I went to see old Mr Baxter after tea. My father dropped me off on his way to play badminton. Mr Baxter’s house is hard to see from the road. It has got a massive overgrown privet hedge all round it. When I knocked on the door a dog started barking and growling and jumping up at the letter-box. I heard the sound of bottles being knocked over and a man swearing before I ran off. I hope I got the wrong number.

I saw Nigel on the way home. He told me Pandora’s father is a milkman! I have gone off her a bit.

Nobody was in when I got home so I fed the dog, looked at my spots and went to bed.

It is a dirty lie about Pandora’s father being a milkman! He is an accountant at the dairy. Pandora says she will duff Nigel up if he goes round committing libel. I am in love with her again.

Nigel has asked me to go to a disco at the youth club tomorrow night; it is being held to raise funds for a new packet of ping-pong balls. I don’t know if I will go because Nigel is a punk at weekends. Hismother lets him be one providing he wears a string vest under his bondage T-shirt.

My mother has got an interview for a job. She is practising her typing and not doing any cooking. So what will it be like if she gets the job? My father should put his foot down before we are a broken home.

That is the last time I go to a disco. Everybody there was a punk except me and Rick Lemon, the youth leader. Nigel was showing off all night. He ended up putting a safety pin through his ear. My father had to take him to the hospital in our car. Nigel’s parents haven’t got a car because his father’s got a steel plate in his head and his mother is only four feet eleven inches tall. It’s not surprising Nigel has turned out bad really, with a maniac and a midget for parents.

I still haven’t heard from Malcolm Muggeridge. Perhaps he is in a bad mood. Intellectuals like him and me often have bad moods. Ordinary people don’t understand us and say we are sulking, but we’re not.

Pandora has been to see Nigel in hospital. He has got a bit of blood poisoning from the safety pin. Pandora thinks Nigel is dead brave. I think he is dead stupid.

I have had a headache all day because of my mother’s rotten typing, but I’m not complaining. I must go to sleep now. I’ve got to go and see Bert Baxter tomorrow at his house. It was the right number WORSE LUCK!

Today was the most terrible day of my life. My mother has got a job doing her rotten typing in an insurance office! She starts on Monday! Mr Lucas works at the same place. He is going to give her a lift every day.

And my father is in a bad mood—he thinks his big-end is going.

But worst of all, Bert Baxter is not a nice old age pensioner! He drinks and smokes and has an alsatian dog called Sabre. Sabre was locked in the kitchen while I was cutting the massive hedge, but he didn’t stop growling once.

But even worse than that! Pandora is going out with Nigel!!!!! I think I will never get over this shock.

Third after Epiphany

10 AM. I am ill with all the worry, too weak to write much. Nobody has noticed I haven’t eaten any breakfast.

2 PM. Had two junior aspirins at midday and rallied a bit. Perhaps when I am famous and my diary is discovered people will understand the torment of being a 133/4-year-old undiscovered intellectual. 6 PM Pandora! My lost love!

Now I will never stroke your treacle hair! (Although my blue felt-tip is still at your disposal.)

8 PM. Pandora! Pandora! Pandora! w PM. Why? Why? Why?

Midnight. Had a crab-paste sandwich and a satsuma (for the good of my skin). Feel a bit better. I hope Nigel falls off his bike and is squashed flat by a lorry. I will never speak to him again. He knew I was in love with Pandora! If I’d had a racing bike for Christmas instead of a lousy digital stereo alarm clock, none of this would have happened.

I had to leave my sick-bed to visit Bert Baxter before school. It took me ages to get there, what with feeling weak and having to stop for a rest every now and again, but with the help of an old lady who had a long black moustache I made it to the front door. Bert Baxter was in bed but he threw the key down and I let myself in. Sabre was locked in the bathroom; he was growling and sounded as if he was ripping up towels or something.

Bert Baxter was lying in a filthy-looking bed smoking a cigarette, there was a horrible smell in the room, I think it came from Bert Baxter himself. The bed sheets looked as though they were covered in blood, but Bert said that was caused by the beetroot sandwiches he always eats last thing at night. It was the most disgusting room I have ever seen (and I’m no stranger to squalor). Bert Baxter gave me ten pence and asked me to get him the Morning Star from thenewsagent’s. So he is a communist as well as everything else! Sabre usually fetches the paper but he is being kept in as a punishment for chewing the sink.

The man in the newsagent’s asked me to give Bert Baxter his bill (he owes for his papers, PS31.97), but when I did Bert Baxter said, ‘Smarmy four-eyed git’, and laughed and ripped the bill up. I was late for school so I had to go to the school secretary’s office and have my name put in the late book. That’s the gratitude I get for being a Good Samaritan! I didn’t miss Maths either! Saw Pandora and Nigel standing close together in the dinner queue but chose to ignore them.

Mr Lucas has taken to his bed because of being deserted so my mother is taking care of him when she finishes work. She is the only person he will see. So when will she find time to look after me and my father?

My father is sulking. I think he must be jealous because Mr Lucas doesn’t want to see him.

Midnight. Goodnight Pandora my treacle-haired love.

XXXXXXXXX

Art was dead good today. I painted a lonely boy standing on a bridge. The boy had just lost his first love to his ex-best friend. The ex-best friend was struggling in the torrential river. The boy was watching his ex-best friend drown. The ex-best friend looked abit like Nigel. The boy looked a bit like me. Ms Fossington-Gore said my picture ‘had depth’, so did the river. Ha! Ha! Ha!

Last Quarter

I woke up with a bit of a cold this morning. I asked my mother for a note to excuse me from Games. She said she refused to namby-pamby me a day longer! How would she like to run about on a muddy field in the freezing drizzle, dressed only in PE shorts and a singlet? When I was in the school sports day three-legged race last year she came to watch me, and she had her fur coat on and she put a blanket round her legs, and it was only June! Anyway my mother is sorry now, we had rugger and my PE stuff was so full of mud that it has clogged up the drain hose on the washing machine.

The vet rang up to demand that we come and fetch the dog back from his surgery. It has been there nine days. My father says it will have to stay there until he gets paid tomorrow. The vet only takes cash and my father hasn’t got any.

Pandora! Why?

The stupid dog is back. I am not taking it for a walk until its hair grows back on its shaved paws. My father looked pale when he came home from the vet’s, he kept saying ‘It’s money down the drain’, and he said that from now on the dog can only be fed on leftovers from his plate.

This means the dog will soon starve.

That filthy commie Bert Baxter has phoned the school to complain that I left the hedge-clippers out in the rain! He claims that they have gone all rusty. He wants compensation. I told Mr Scruton, the headmaster, that they were already rusty but I could tell he didn’t believe me. He gave me a lecture on how hard it was for old people to make ends meet. He has ordered me to go to Bert Baxter’s and clean and sharpen the hedge-clippers. I wanted to tell the headmaster all about horrible Bert Baxter but there is something about Mr Scruton that makes my mind go blank. I think it’s the way his eyes pop out when he is in a temper.

On the way to Bert Baxter’s I saw my mother and Mr Lucas coming out of a betting shop together. I waved and shouted but I don’t think they could have seen me. I’m glad Mr Lucas is feeling better.

Bert Baxter didn’t answer the door. Perhaps he is dead.

Pandora! You are still on my mind, baby.

It is nearly February and I have got nobody to send a Valentine’s Day card to.

Fourth after Epiphany

There was a lot of shouting downstairs late last night. The kitchen waste-bin was knocked over and the back door kept being slammed. I wish my parents would be a bit more thoughtful. I have been through an emotional time and I need my sleep. Still I don’t expect them to understand what it is like being in love. They have been married for fourteen-and-a-half years.

Went to Bert Baxter’s this afternoon but thank God he has gone to Skegness with the Evergreens. Sabre looked out of the living-room window. I gave him the ‘V sign. I hope he doesn’t remember.

Presentation

Mrs Lucas is back! I saw her pulling trees and bushes out of the earth and putting them in the back of a van, then she put all the gardening tools in and drove off. The van had ‘Women’s Refuge’ painted on the side. Mr Lucas came over to our house to talk to my mother, I went down to say ‘hello’ to him, but he was too upset to notice me. I asked my mother if she would get home early from work tonight, I’m fed up with waiting for my tea. She didn’t.

Nigel got thrown out of school dinners today for swearing at the toad-in-the-hole, he said it was ‘all bleeding hole and no toad’. I think Mrs Leech was quite right to throw him out, after all the first-years were present! We third-years must set an example. Pandora has got up a petition to protest about the toad-in-the-hole. I will not sign it.

It was Good Samaritans today. So I was forced to go round to Bert Baxter’s. I have missed the Algebra test! Ha! Ha! Ha! Bert gave me a stick of broken Skegness rock and said he was sorry he rang the school to complain abut the hedge-clippers. He said he was lonely and wanted to hear a human voice. If I was the loneliest person in the world I wouldn’t phone up our school. I would ring the speaking clock; that talks to you every ten seconds.

My mother has not done any proper housework for days now. All she does is go to work, comfort Mr Lucas and read and smoke. The big-end has gone on my father’s car. I had to show him where to catch a bus into town. A man of forty not knowing where the bus stop is! My father looked such a scruff-bag that I was ashamed to be seen with him. I was glad when the bus came. I shouted through the window that he couldn’t sit downstairs and smoke but he just waved and lit up a cigarette. There is a fifty pounds’ fine for doing that! If I was in charge of the buses I would fine smokers a thousand pounds and make them eat twenty Woodbines.

My mother is reading The Female Eunuch, by Germaine Greer. My mother says it is the sort of book that changes your life. It hasn’t changed mine, but I only glanced through it. It is full of dirty words.

New Moon

I had my first wet dream! So my mother was right about The Female Eunuch. It has changed my life. The spot has got smaller.

My mother has bought some of those overalls that painters and decorators wear. You can see her knickers through them. I hope she doesn’t wear them in the street.

She is having her ears pierced tomorrow. I think she is turning into a spendthrift. Nigel’s mother is a spendthrift. They are always getting letters about having their electricity cut off and all because Nigel’s mother buys a pair of high heels every week.

I would like to know where the Family Allowance goes, by rights it should be mine. I will ask my mother tomorrow.

The Queen’s Accession, 1952

It is lousy having a working mother. She rushes in with big bags of shopping, cooks the tea then rushes around tarting herself up. But she is still not doing any tidying up before comforting Mr Lucas. There has been a slice of bacon between the cooker and the fridge for three days to my knowledge!

I asked her about my Family Allowance today, she laughed and said she used it for buying gin and cigarettes. If the Social Services hear about it she will get done!

My mother and father have been shouting at each other non-stop for hours. It started because of the bacon down the side of the fridge and carried on into how much my father’s car is costing to repair. I went up to my room and put my Abba records on. My father had the nerve to crash my door open and ask me to turn the volume down. I did. When he got downstairs I turned it up again.

Nobody cooked any dinner so I went to the Chinese chip shop and bought a carton of chips and a sachet of soy sauce. I sat in the bus shelter and ate them, then walked about feeling sad. Came home. Fed dog. Read a bit of Female Eunuch. Felt a bit funny. Went to sleep.

Fifth after Epiphany

My father came into my bedroom this morning, he said he wanted a chat. He looked at my Kevin Keegan scrapbook, screwed the knob of my wardrobe door back on with his Swiss army knife, and asked me about school. Then he said he was sorry about yesterday and the shouting, he said my mother and him are ‘going through a bad patch’. He asked me if I had anything to say. I said he owed me thirty-two pence for the Chinese chips and soy sauce. He gave me a pound. So I made a profit of sixty-eight pence.

There was a removal lorry outside Mr Lucas’s house this morning. Mrs Lucas and some other women were carrying furniture from the house and stacking it on the pavement. Mr Lucas was looking out from his bedroom window. He looked a bit frightened. Mrs Lucas was laughing and pointing up to Mr Lucas and all the other women started laughing and singing ‘Why was he born so beautiful?’

My mother phoned Mr Lucas up and asked him if he was all right. Mr Lucas said he wasn’t going to work today because he had to guard the stereo and records from his wife. My father helped Mrs Lucas put the gas stove in the removal van, then he and my mother walked to the bus stop together. I walked behind them because my mother was wearing long dangly earrings and my father’s trouser turn-ups had come down. They started to quarrel about something so I crossed over the road and went to school the long way round.

Bert Baxter was OK today. He told me about the First World War. He said his life was saved by a Bible he always carried in his breast pocket. He showed me the Bible, it was printed in 1956.1 think Bert is going a bit senile.

Pandora! The memory of you is a constant torment!

Mr Lucas is staying with us until he gets some new furniture.

My father has gone to Matlock to try to sell electric storage heaters to a big hotel.

Our gas boiler has packed in. It is freezing cold.

First Quarter

My father rang up from Matlock to say he has lost his Barclaycard and can’t get home tonight, so Mr Lucas and my mother were up all night trying to mend the boiler. I went down at ten o’clock to see if I could help but the kitchen door was jammed. Mr Lucas said he couldn’t open it just at that moment because he was at a crucial stage with the boiler and my mother was helping him and she had her hands full.

Lincoln’s Birthday

I found my mother dyeing her hair in the bathroom tonight. This has come as a complete shock to me. For thirteen and three-quarter years I have thought I had a mother with red hair, now I find out that it is really light brown. My mother asked me not to tell my father.

What a state their marriage must be in! I wonder if my father knows that she wears a padded bra? She doesn’t hang them on the line to dry, but I have seen them shoved down the side of the airing cupboard. I wonder what other secrets my mother has got?

It was an unlucky day for me all right!

Pandora doesn’t sit next to me in Geography any more. Barry Kent does. He kept copying my work and blowing bubblegum in my ears. I told Miss Elf but she is scared of Barry Kent as well, so she didn’t say anything to him.

Pandora looked luscious today, she was wearing a split skirt which showed her legs. She has got a scab on one of her knees. She was wearing Nigel’s football scarf round her wrist, but Miss Elf saw it and told her to take it off. Miss Elf is not scared of Pandora. I have sent her a Valentine’s Day card (Pandora, not Miss Elf).

St Valentine’s Day

I only got one Valentine’s Day card. It was in my mother’s handwriting so it doesn’t count. My mother had a massive card delivered, it was so big that a GPO-van had to bring it to the door. She went all red when she opened the envelope and saw the card. It was dead good. There was a big satin elephant holding a bunch of plastic flowers in its trunk and a bubble coming out of its mouth saying ‘Hi, Honey Bun! I ain’t never gonna forget you!’ There was no name written inside, just drawings of hearts with ‘Pauline’ written inside them. My father’s card was very small and had a bunch of purple flowers on the front. My father had written on the inside ‘Let’s try again’.

Here is the poem I wrote inside Pandora’s card.

I wrote it left-handed so that she wouldn’t know it was from me.

Sepruagesima

Mr Lucas moved back to his empty house last night. I expect he got fed up with all the rowing over the elephant Valentine’s Day card. I told my father that my mother can’t help it if a man secretly admires her. My father gave a nasty laugh and said ‘You’ve got a lot to learn, son’.

I cleared off to my grandma’s at dinner-time. Shecooked me a proper Sunday dinner with gravy and individual Yorkshire puddings. She is never too busy to make real custard either.

I took the dog with me and we all went for a walk in the afternoon to settle our dinners.

My grandma hasn’t spoken to my mother since the row about the cardigans. Grandma says she ‘won’t set foot in that house again!’ Grandma asked me if I believed in life after death. I said I didn’t and grandma told me that she had joined the Spiritualist church and has heard my grandad talking about his rhubarb. My grandad has been dead for four years!!! She is going on Wednesday night to try to get in touch with him again and she wants me to go with her. She says I have got an aura around me.

The dog choked on a chicken bone but we held it upside down and banged it hard, and the bone fell out. I’ve left the dog at grandma’s to recover from its ordeal.

Looked up ‘Septuagesima’ in my pocket dictionary. It didn’t have it. Will look in the school dictionary, tomorrow.

Lay awake for ages thinking about God, Life and Death and Pandora.

Washington’s Birthday Observance

A letter from the BBC!!!!! A white oblong envelope with BBC in red fat letters. My name and address onthe front! Could it be that they wanted my poems? Alas, no. But a letter from a bloke called John Tydeman, here is what he wrote:

My mother and father were really impressed. I kept getting it out and reading it at school. I was hoping one of the teachers would ask to read it but none of them did.

Bert Baxter read it while I was doing his rotten washing up. He said they were ‘all a load of drug addicts in the BBC’! His brother-in-law’s uncle once lived next door to a tea lady at Broadcasting House, so Bert knows all about the BBC.

Pandora got seventeen Valentine’s Day cards. Nigel got seven. Even Barry Kent whom everybody hates got three! I just smiled when everybody asked me how many I got. Anyway I bet I am the only person in the school to get a letter from the BBC.

Barry Kent said he would do me over unless I gave him twenty-five pence every day. I told him that he was wasting his time demanding money with menaces from me. I never have any spare money. My mother puts my pocket money straight into my building-society account and gives me fifteen pence a day for a Mars bar. Barry Kent said I would have to give him my dinner money! I told him that my father pays it by cheque since it went up to sixty pence a day, but Barry Kent hit me in the goolies and walked off saying ‘There’s more where that came from’.

I have put my name down for a paper round.

Full Moon

Woke up with a pain in my goolies. Told my mother. She wanted to look but I didn’t want her to so she said I would have to soldier on. She wouldn’t give me a note excusing me from Games, so I had to stumble around in the mud again. Barry Kent trod on my head in the scrum. Mr Jones saw him and sent him off for an early shower.

I wish I could have a non-painful illness so I could be excused Games. Something like a weak heart would be all right.

Fetched the dog from grandma’s, she has given it a shampoo and set. It smells like the perfume counter in Woolworth’s.

I went to the Spiritualist meeting with my grandma, it was full of dead old people. One madman stood up and said he had a radio inside his head which told him what to do. Nobody took any notice of him, so he sat down again. A woman called Alice Tonks started grunting and rolling her eyes about and talking to somebody called Arthur Mayfield, but my grandad kept quiet. My grandma was a bit sad so when we got home I made her a cup of Horlicks. She gave me fifty pence and I walked home with the dog.

Started reading Animal Farm, by George Orwell. I think I might like to be a vet when I grow up.

Prince Andrew born, 1960

It’s all right for Prince Andrew, he is protected by bodyguards. He doesn’t have Barry Kent nicking money off him. Fifty pence gone just like that! I wish I knew karate, I would chop Barry Kent in his windpipe.

It is quiet at home, my parents are not speaking to each other.

Barry Kent told Miss Elf to ‘get stuffed’ in Geography today so she sent him to Mr Scruton to be punished. I hope he gets fifty lashes. I am going to make friends with Craig Thomas. He is one of the biggest third-years. I bought him a Mars bar in break today. I pretended I felt sick and didn’t feel like eating it myself. He said, ‘Ta Moley’. That is the first time he has spoken to me. If I play my cards right I could be in his gang. Then Barry Kent wouldn’t dare touch me again.

My mother is reading another sex book, it is called The Second Sex, by a frog writer called Simone De Beauvoir. She left it on the coffee table in the livingroom where anybody could have seen it, even my grandma!

Had a dead good dream that Sabre was brutally savaging Barry Kent. Mr Scruton and Miss Elf were watching. Pandora was there, she was wearing her split skirt. She put her arms round me and said, ‘I am of the second sex’. Then I woke up to find I had had my second W.D. I have to put my pyjamas in the washing machine so my mother doesn’t find out.

Had a good look at my face in the bathroom mirror today. I have got five spots as well as the one on my chin. I have got a few hairs on my lip. It looks as if I shall have to start shaving soon.

Went to the garage with my father, he expected to get the car back today but it still isn’t ready. All the bits are on the work-bench. My father’s eyes rilled up with tears. I was ashamed of him. We walked to Sainsbury’s. My father bought tins of salmon, crab and shrimps and a black forest cake and some dead yukky white cheese covered in grape pips. My mother was dead mad at him when we got home because he had forgotten the bread, butter and toilet paper. She says he can’t be trusted to go on his own again. My father cheered up a bit.

Sexagesima

My father has gone fishing with the dog. Mr Lucas came for dinner and stayed for tea. He ate three slices of the black forest cake. We played Monopoly. Mr Lucas was banker. My mother kept going into jail. I won because I was the only one concentrating properly. My father came in the front door and Mr Lucas went out of the back door. My father said he had been looking forward to the black forest cake all day. There was none left. My father said he had not had a bite to eat or a bite on his fishing line all day. My mother gave him grape-pip cheese on Ry-king for his supper. He threw it at the wall and said he wasn’t a ******* mouse he was a ******* man and my mother said it was a long time since he had done any *******! I was sent out of the room then. It is a terrible thing to hear your own mother swearing. I blame it on all those books she has been reading. She hasn’t ironed my school uniform yet, I hope she remembers.

I let the dog sleep in my room tonight, it doesn’t like quarrelling.

Got a letter from Mr Cherry the newsagent to say I can start a paper round tomorrow. Worse luck! Bert Baxter is worried about Sabre because he is offhis food and not trying to bite anybody. He asked me to take him to the PDSA for a check-up. I said I would take him tomorrow if his condition hadn’t improved.

I’m fed up with washing up for Bert. He seems to live off fried eggs, it is no joke trying to wash up in cold water without any washing-up liquid. Also there is never a dry tea towel. In fact there are never any tea towels and Sabre has ripped up all the bath towels so I don’t know how Bert can even have a wash! I think I’ll see if I can get Bert a home help.

I have got to concentrate on getting my GCEs if I want to be a vet.

St Matthias

Got up at six o’clock for my paper round. I have got Elm Tree Avenue. It is dead posh. All the papers they read are very heavy: The Times, the Daily Telegraph and the Guardian. Just my luck! Bert said Sabre is better, he tried to bite the milkman.

Bed early tonight because of my paper round. Delivered twenty-five Punches as well as the papers.

The papers got mixed up today. Elm Tree Avenue got the Sun and the Mirror and Corporation Row got the heavy papers.

I don’t know why everybody went so mad. You’d think they would enjoy reading a different paper for a change.

Last Quarter

Early this morning I saw Pandora walking down the drive of 69 Elm Tree Avenue. She had a riding hat and jodphurs on so she couldn’t have been on her way to school. I didn’t let her see me. I don’t want her to know that I am doing a menial job.

So now I know where Pandora lives! I had a good look at the house. It is much bigger than ours. It has got rolled-up wooden blinds at all the windows, and the rooms look like jungles because of all the green plants. I looked through the letterbox and saw the big ginger cat eating something on the kitchen table. They have the Guardian,Punch, Private Eye, and New Society. Pandora reads Jackie, the comic for girls; she is not an intellectual, like me. But I don’t suppose Malcolm Muggeridge’s wife is either.

Pandora has got a little fat horse called ‘Blossom’. She feeds it and makes it jump over barrels every morning before school. I know because I hid behind her father’s Volvo and then followed her to a field next to the disused railway line. I hid behind a scrap car in the corner of the field and watched her. She looked dead good in her riding stuff, her chest was wobbling like mad. She will need to wear a bra soon. My heart was beating so loudly in my throat that I felt like a stereo loudspeaker, so I left before she heard me.

People complained because the papers were late. I had a Guardian left over in my paper bag so I took it home to read. It was full of spelling mistakes. It is disgusting when you think of how many people who can spell are out of work.

Quinquagesima. St David’s Day

I took some sugar to Blossom before I did my paper round. It brought me closer to Pandora somehow.

Have strained my back because of carrying all the Sunday supplements. Took the leftover Sunday People home as a present to my mother but she said it was only fit for lining the dustbin. Got my two pounds and six pence for six mornings, it is slave labour! And I have to give Barry Kent half of it. Mr Cherry said hehad a complaint from number 69 Elm Tree Avenue, that they didn’t get a Guardian yesterday. Mr Cherry sent a Daily Express round with his apologies, but Pandora’s father brought it back to the shop and said he ‘would rather go without’.

Didn’t bother reading the papers today, I am fed up with papers. Had chow mein and beansprouts for Sunday dinner.

Mr Lucas came round when my father had gone to visit grandma. He was wearing a plastic daffodil in his sports jacket.

My spots have completely gone. It must be the early morning air.

My mother has just come into my room and said she had something awful to tell me. I sat up in bed and put a dead serious expression on my face just in case she’d got six months to live or she’d been caught shoplifting or something. She fiddled with the curtains, dropped cigarette ash all over my Concorde model and started mumbling on about ‘adult relationships’ and ‘life being complicated’ and how she must ‘find herself. She said she was fond of me. Fond!!! And would hate to hurt me. And then she said that for some women marriage was like being in prison. Then she went out.

Marriage is nothing like being in prison! Women are let out every day to go to the shops and stuff, andquite a lot go to work. I think my mother is being a bit melodramatic.

Finished Animal Farm. It is dead symbolic. I cried when Boxer was taken to the vet’s. From now on I shall treat pigs with the contempt they deserve. I am boycotting pork of all kinds.

Shrove Tuesday

I gave Barry Kent his protection money today. I don’t see how there can be a God. If there was surely he wouldn’t let people like Barry Kent walk about menacing intellectuals? Why are bigger youths unpleasant to smaller youths? Perhaps their brains are easily worn out with all the extra work they have to do making bigger bones and stuff, or it could be that the big youths have got brain damage because of all the sport they play, or perhaps big youths just like menacing and fighting. When I go to university I may study the problem.

I will have my thesis published and I will send a copy to Barry Kent. Perhaps by then he will have learnt to read.

My mother had forgotten that today was pancake day. I reminded her at 11 PM. I’m sure she burnt them deliberately. I will be fourteen in one month’s time.

Ash Wednesday.

Had a nasty shock this morning. Took my empty paper sack back to Mr Cherry’s newsagent’s and saw Mr Lucas looking at those magazines on the top shelf. I stood behind the Mills and Boon rack and distinctly saw him choose Bigand Bouncy, pay for it and leave the shop with it hidden inside his coat. Big and Bouncy is extremely indecent. It is full of disgusting pictures. My mother should be informed.

My father got his car back from the garage today. He was cleaning it and gloating over it for a whole two hours. I noticed that the stick-on waving hand I bought him for Christmas was missing from the rear window. I told him he ought to complain to the garage but he said he didn’t want to make a fuss. We went to my grandma’s to test-drive the car. She gave us a cup of Bovril and a piece of yukky seedcake. She didn’t ask how my mother was, she said my father was looking thin and pale and needed ‘feeding up’.

She told me that Bert Baxter had been thrown out of the Evergreens because of his bad behaviour at Skegness. The coach was waiting for two hours for him at the coach station. A search party was sent out to look in the pubs, then Bert came back, drunk butalone and another search party was sent out to look for the first search party. In the end the police had to be sent for and they took hours to round up all the pensioners and get them in the coach.

My grandma said the journey back was a nightmare. All the pensioners kept falling out (with each other not out of the coach). Bert Baxter was reciting a dirty poem about an Eskimo and Mrs Harriman had a funny turn and had to have her corsets loosened.

Grandma said two pensioners had passed on since the outing, she blamed Bert Baxter and said ‘He as good as murdered them’, but I think it was more likely that the cold wind at Skegness killed them off. I said, ‘Bert Baxter is not so bad when you get to know him’. She said she didn’t understand why the Good Lord took my grandad and left scum like Baxter. Then she pulled her lips tight and dabbled her eyes with a handkerchief, so we left.

My mother was out when we got home, she has joined some women’s group.

Heard my father say ‘goodnight’, to the car. He must be cracking up!

New Moon

Mr Cherry is very pleased with my work and he has raised my wages by two and a halfpence an hour. He also offered me the Corporation Row evening round, but I declined his offer. Corporation Row is where thecouncil put all the bad tenants. Barry Kent lives at number 13.

Mr Cherry gave me two back copies of Big and Bouncy. He told me not tell my mother. As if I would! I have put them under my mattress. Intellectuals like me are allowed to be interested in sex. It is ordinary people like Mr Lucas who should be ashamed of themselves.

Phoned Social Services today and asked about a home help for Bert Baxter. I told a lie and said I was his grandson. They are sending a social worker to see him on Monday.

Used my father’s library tickets to get War and Peace out. I have lost my own.

Took dog to meet Blossom. They got on well.

After paper round went back to bed and stayed there all morning reading Big and Bouncy. Felt like I have never felt before.

Went to Sainsbury’s with my mother and father but the women in there reminded me of Big and Bouncy, even the ones over thirty! My mother said I looked hot and bothered and sent me back to the multi-storey car park to keep the dog company.

The dog already had company, it was barking and whining so loudly that a crowd of people were standing around saying ‘the poor thing’ and ‘how cruel to leave it tied up in such a fashion’. The dog had twisted itscollar on the gear lever and its eyes were bulging out of its head. When it saw me it tried to jump up and nearly killed itself.

I tried to explain to the people that I was going to be a vet when I grew up, but they wouldn’t listen and started to say things about the RSPCA. The car was locked so I was forced to break the little window open and unlock the door by putting my hand through. The dog went mad with joy when I untangled him, so the people went away. But my father didn’t go mad with joy when he saw the damage, he went mad with rage. He threw the Sainsbury’s bags down, broke the eggs, squashed the cakes and drove home too fast. Nobody said anything on the way home, and only the dog was smiling.

Finished War and Peace. It was quite good.

First in Lent

My mother has gone to a woman’s workshop on assertiveness training. Men aren’t allowed. I asked my father what ‘assertiveness training’ is. He said ‘God knows, but whatever it is, it’s bad news for me’.

We had boil-in-the-bag cod in butter sauce and oven-cooked chips for Sunday dinner, followed by tinned peaches and Dream-topping. My father opened a bottle of white wine and let me have some. I don’t know much about wine but it seemed a pleasant enough vintage. We watched a film on television, then my mother came home and started bossing us around. She said, ‘The worm has turned’, and ‘Things are going to be different around here’, and things like that. Then she went into the kitchen and started making a chart dividing all the housework into three. I pointed out to her that I already had a paper round to do, an old age pensioner to look after and a dog to feed, as well as my school work, but she didn’t listen, she put the chart on the wall and said ‘We start tomorrow’.

Commonwealth Day

Cleaned toilet, washed basin and bath before doing my paper round. Came home, made breakfast, put washing in machine, went to school. Gave Barry Kent his menaces money, went to Bert Baxter’s, waited for social worker who didn’t come, had school dinner. Had Domestic Science—made apple crumble. Came home. Vacuumed hall, lounge, and breakfast room. Peeled potatoes, chopped up cabbage, cut finger, rinsed blood off cabbage. Put chops under grill, looked in cookery book for a recipe for gravy. Made gravy. Strained lumps out with a colander. Set table, served dinner, washed up. Put burnt saucepans in to soak. Got washing out of machine; everything blue, including white underwear and handkerchiefs. Hung washing on clothes-horse. Fed dog. Ironed PE kit, cleaned shoes. Did homework. Took dog for a walk, had bath. Cleaned bath. Made three cups of tea. Washed cupsup. Went to bed. Just my luck to have an assertive mother!

Prince Edward born, 1964

Why couldn’t I have been born Prince Edward and Prince Edward been born Adrian Mole? I am treated like a serf.

Dragged myself to school after doing paper round and housework. My mother wouldn’t give me a note excusing me from Games so I left my PE kit at home. I just couldn’t face running about in the cold wind.

That sadist Mr Jones made me run all the way home to fetch my PE kit. The dog must have followed me out of the house because when I got to the school gate it was there before me. I tried to shut the dog out but it squeezed through the railings and followed me into the playground. I ran into the changing rooms and left the dog outside but I could hear its loud bark echoing around the school. I tried to sneak into the playing fields but the dog saw me and followed behind, then it saw the football and joined in the lesson! The dog is dead good at football, even Mr Jones was laughing until the dog punctured the ball.

Mr Scruton, the pop-eyed headmaster, saweverything from his window. He ordered me to take the dog home. I told him I would miss my sitting for school dinners but he said it would teach me not to bring pets to school.

Mrs Leech, the kitchen supervisor, did a very kind thing. She put my curry and rice, spotted dick and custard into the oven to keep warm. Mrs Leech doesn’t like Mr Scruton so she gave me a large marrow-bone to take home for the dog.

Woke up this morning to find my face covered in huge red spots. My mother said they were caused by nerves but I am still convinced that my diet is inadequate. We have been eating a lot of boil-in-the-bag stuff lately. Perhaps I am allergic to plastic. My mother rang Dr Gray’s receptionist to make an appointment, but the earliest he can see me is next Monday! For all he knows I could have lassa fever and be spreading it all around the district! I told my mother to say that I was an emergency case but she said I was ‘over-reacting as usual’. She said a few spots didn’t mean I was dying. I couldn’t believe it when she said she was going to work as usual. Surely her child should come before her job?

I rang my grandma and she came round in a taxi and took me to her house and put me to bed. I am there now. It is very clean and peaceful. I am wearing my dead grandad’s pyjamas. I have just had a bowl ofbarley and beef soup. It is my first proper nourishment for weeks.

I expect there will be a row when my mother comes home and finds that I have gone. But frankly, my dear diary, I don’t give a damn.

Moon’s First Quarter

The emergency doctor came to my grandma’s last night at 11.30 PM. He diagnosed that I am suffering from acne vulgaris. He said it was so common that it is regarded as a normal state of adolescence. He thought it was highly unlikely that I have got lassa fever because I have not been to Africa this year. He told grandma to take the disinfected sheets off the doors and windows. Grandma said she would like a second opinion. That was when the doctor lost his temper. He shouted in a very loud voice, ‘The lad has only got a few teenage spots, for Christ’s sake!’

Grandma said she would complain to the Medical Council but the doctor just laughed and went downstairs and slammed the door. My father came round before he went to work and brought my Social Studies homework and the dog. He said that if I was not out of bed when he got home at lunchtime he would thrash me to within an inch of my life.

He took my grandma into the kitchen and had a loud talk with her. I heard him saying,’ Things are very bad between me and Pauline, and all we are arguing over now is who doesn’t get custody of Adrian’. Surely my father made a mistake. He must have meant who did get custody of me.

So the worst has happened, my skin has gone to pot and my parents are splitting up.

It is official. They are getting a divorce! Neither of them wants to leave the house so the spare room is being turned into a bedsitter for my father. This could have a very bad effect on me. It could prevent me from being a vet.

My mother gave me five pounds this morning and told me not to tell my father. I bought some bio-spot cream for my skin and the new Abba L.P.

I rang Mr Cherry and said I had personal problems and would be unable to work for a few weeks. Mr Cherry said that he knew that my parents were divorcing because my father had cancelled my mother’s Cosmopolitan.

My father gave me five pounds and told me not to tell my mother. I spent some of it on buying some purple paper and envelopes so that the BBC will be impressed and read my poems. The rest of it will have to go on Barry Kent and his menaces money. I don’t think anybody in the world can be as unhappy as me. If I didn’t have my poetry I would be a raving loonie by now.

Went out for a sad walk and took Pandora’s horsetwo pounds of cooking apples. Thought of a poem about Blossom. Wrote it down when I got back to the house where I live.

I have sent it to the BBC. I marked the envelope ‘Urgent’.

Second in Lent

The house is very quiet. My father sits in the spare room smoking and my mother sits in the bedroom smoking. They are not eating much.

Mr Lucas has phoned my mother three times. All she says to him is ‘not yet, it’s too early’. Perhaps he has asked her to go to the pub for a drink and take her mind off her troubles.

My father has put the stereo in his bedroom. He is playing his Jim Reeves records and staring out of thewindow. I took him a cup of tea and he said ‘Thanks, son’ in a choked-up voice.

My mother was looking at old letters in my father’s handwriting when I took her tea in; she said, ‘Adrian, what must you think of us?’ I said that Rick Lemon, the youth leader, thinks divorce is society’s fault. My mother said, ‘Bugger society’.

I washed and ironed my school uniform ready for school tomorrow. I am getting quite good at housework.

My spots are so horrific that I can’t bear to write about them. I will be the laughing stock at school.

I am reading The Manin the Iron Mask. I know exactly how he feels.

Went to school. Found it closed. In my anguish I had forgotten that I am on holiday. Didn’t want to go home, so went to see Bert Baxter instead. He said the social worker had been to see him and had promised to get Sabre a new kennel but he can’t have a home help. (Bert, not Sabre.)

There must have been a full week’s washing up in the sink again. Bert says he saves it for me because I make a good job of it. While I washed up I told Bert about my parents getting a divorce. He said he didn’t hold with divorce. He said he was married for thirty-five miserable years so why should anybody else get away with it? He told me that he has got four childrenand that none of them come to see him. Two of them are in Australia so they can’t be blamed, but I think the other two should be ashamed of themselves. Bert showed me a photograph of his dead wife, it was taken in the days before they had plastic surgery. Bert told me that he was a hostler when he got married (a hostler is somebody doing things with horses) and didn’t really notice that his wife looked like a horse until he left to work on the railways. I asked him if he would like to see a horse again. He said he would, so I took him to see Blossom.

It took us ages to get there. Bert walks dead slow and he kept having to sit down on garden walls, but we got there eventually. Bert said that Blossom was not a horse, she was a girl pony. He kept patting her and saying ‘who’s a beauty then, eh?’ Then Blossom went for a run about so we sat down on the scrap car, and Bert had a Woodbine and I had a Mars bar. Then we walked back to Bert’s house. I went to the shops and bought a packet of Vesta chow mein and a butterscotch Instant Whip for our dinner, so Bert ate a decent meal for once. We watched Pebble Mill at One, then Bert showed me his old horse brushes and photographs of the big house where he worked when he was a boy. He said he was made into a communist when he was there, but he fell asleep before he could tell me why.

Came home, nobody was in so I played my Abba records at the highest volume until the deaf woman next door banged on the wall.

St Patrick’s Day. Bank Holiday in N. Ireland and Rep. of Ireland

Looked at Big and Bouncy. Measured my ‘thing’. It was eleven centimetres.

Mr O’Leary who lives across the road from us was drunk at ten o’clock in the morning! He got thrown out of the butcher’s for singing.

My mother and father are both speaking to solicitors. I expect they are fighting over who gets custody of me. I will be a tug-of-love child, and my picture will be in the newspapers. I hope my spots clear up before then.

Mr Lucas has put his house up for sale. My mother says the asking price is thirty thousand pounds!!

What will he do with all that money?

My mother says he will buy another bigger house. How stupid can you get?

If I had thirty thousand pounds I would wander the world having experiences.

I wouldn’t take any real money with me because I have read that most foreigners are thieves. Instead I would have three thousand pounds’ worth of traveller’s cheques sewn into my trousers. Before I set off, I would:

Send Pandora three dozen red roses.

Pay a mercenary fifty pounds to duff Barry Kent up.

Buy the best racing bike in the world and ride it past Nigel’s house.

Order a massive crate of expensive dog food so that the dog is properly fed while I’m away.

Buy a housekeeper for Bert Baxter.

Offer my mother and father a thousand pounds (each) to stay together.

When I came back from the world I would be tall, brown and full of ironical experiences and Pandora would cry into her pillow at night because of the chance she missed to be Mrs Pandora Mole. I would qualify to be a vet in record time then I would buy a farmhouse. I would convert one room into a study so that I could have somewhere quiet to be intellectual in.

I wouldn’t waste thirty thousand pounds on buying a semi-detached house!

First day of Spring. Full Moon

It is the first day of spring. The council have chopped all the elms down in Elm Tree Avenue.

My parents are eating different things at different times, so I usually have six meals a day because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

The television is in my room now because they couldn’t decide who it belongs to. I can lie in bed and watch the late-night horror.

I am starting to get a bit suspicious about my mother’s feelings towards Mr Lucas. I found a note she had from him; it says: ‘Pauline how much longer? For God’s sake come away with me. Yours forever, Bimbo.’

Although it was signed ‘Bimbo’ I know it was from Mr Lucas because it was written on the back of his red electricity bill.

My father should be informed. I have put the note under my mattress next to the Big and Bouncy magazines.

Third in Lent. British Summer Time begins

It is my grandma’s birthday today; she is seventy-six and looks it. I took her a card and a pot plant; it is called Leopard Lily, its foreign name is Dieffenbachia. It had a plastic label stuck in the soil which said, ‘The sap in this plant is poisonous so take care’. My grandmaasked me who chose the plant. I told her my mother did.

My grandma is quite pleased that my parents are getting a divorce! She said that she always thought that my mother had a wanton streak in her and that now she had been proved right.

I didn’t like to hear my mother being spoken of in such a way so I came home. I pretended to grandma that I had promised to meet a friend. But I haven’t really got a friend any more, it must be because I’m an intellectual. I expect people are in awe of me. Looked in my dictionary to find out what ‘wanton’ means. It is not very nice!

Back to school, worse luck! We had Domestic Science today. We did baked potatoes in the oven with cheese filling. My potatoes were bigger than anyone else’s so they weren’t properly cooked by the time the lesson ended, so I finished them off at Bert Baxter’s. He wanted to see Blossom again which was a bit of a drag because he takes so long to walk anywhere. But we went, anything is better than doing Maths at school. Bert took his horse brushes with him and gave Blossom a good clean, she was shining like a conker by the time he’d finished. Bert got out of breath so he sat on the scrap car and had a Woodbine, then we walked back to Bert’s house.

Sabre is in a better temper since he got his new kennel and Bert’s house is in a better condition as a result of Sabre being outside. Bert told me that the social worker thought he ought to go into an old people’s home where he can be properly looked after. Bert doesn’t want to. He told a lie to the social worker, he said his grandson came in every day and looked after him. The social worker is going to check up so I could be in trouble for impersonation!!! I don’t know how much more worry I can take.

Late last night I saw my mother and Mr Lucas going out in Mr Lucas’s car. They went somewhere special because my mother was wearing a boiler suit with sequins. She did look a bit wanton. Mr Lucas was wearing his best suit and he had a lot of gold jewellery on. For an old person he certainly knows how to dress.

If my father took more care of his appearance, none of this would have happened. It stands to reason that any woman would prefer a man to wear a suit and a lot of gold jewellery to one like my father who hardly ever shaves and wears old clothes and no jewellery.

I am going to stay awake and find out what time my mother comes home. Midnight. Mother still not home. 2 AM. No sign of my mother.

Annunciation of B.V. Mary

Fell asleep, so don’t know what time my mother got home. My father said she had gone to the insurance firm’s Christmas dinner and dance. In March! Come off it dad! I was not born yesterday! We had swimming in Games today. The water was freezing cold and so were the changing cubicles. I will try to get athlete’s foot so that I don’t have to go next week.

Barry Kent has been done by the police for riding a bike without a rear light. I hope he gets sent to a Detention Centre. A short sharp shock will do him good.

Pandora and Nigel have split up! It is all round the school. This is the best news I have had for ages.

I am reading Modame Bovary, by another frog writer.

Last Quarter

Nigel has just left, he is heartbroken. I tried to comfort him. I said that there are plenty more pebbles on the beach and fish in the sea. But he was much too upset to listen.

I told him about my suspicions about my mother and Mr Lucas and he said that it had been going on for a long while. Everybody knew except me and my father!!

We had a long talk about racing bikes, then Nigel went home to think about Pandora.

It is Mother’s Day tomorrow. I am in two minds about whether to buy her something or not. I have only got sixty-eight pence.

Fourth in Lent. Mothering Sunday

My father gave me three pounds last night. He said, ‘Get your mother something decent, son, it could be the last time’. I certainly wasn’t going all the way into town for her, so I went to Mr Cherry’s and bought a box of Black Magic, and a card saying ‘To a wonderful mother’.

Card manufacturers must think that all mothers are wonderful because every single card has ‘wonderful’ written on it somewhere. I felt like crossing ‘wonderful’ out and putting ‘wanton’ in its place, but I didn’t. I signed it ‘from your son, Adrian’. I gave it to her this morning. She said, ‘Adrian, you shouldn’t have’. She was right, I shouldn’t have.

Must stop now. My mother has arranged what she called ‘a civilized meeting’. Mr Lucas is going to be there. Naturally I am not invited! I am going to listen at the door.

A terrible thing happened last night. My father and Mr Lucas had a fight in the front garden, the whole street came outside to watch! My mother tried to separate them but they both told her to ‘keep out of it’. Mr O ‘Leary tried to help my father, he kept shouting ‘Give the smarmy bugger one for me, George’. Mrs O’Leary was shouting horrible things at my mother. By the sounds of things she had been watching my mother’s movements since Christmas. The civilized meeting broke up at about five o’clock when my father found out how long my mother and Mr Lucas had been in love.

They had another civilized meeting at about seven o’clock, but when my mother disclosed that she was leaving for Sheffield with Mr Lucas my father became uncivilized and started fighting. Mr Lucas ran into the garden but my father rugby-tackled him by the laurel bush and the fight broke out again. It was quite exciting really. I had a good view from my bedroom window.

Mrs O’Leary said, ‘Tis the child I feel sorry for’, and all the people looked up and saw me, so I looked especially sad. I expect the experience will give me a trauma at some stage in the future. I’m all right at the moment, but you never know.

My mother has gone to Sheffield with Mr Lucas. She had to drive because Mr Lucas couldn’t see out of his black eyes. I have informed the school secretary of my mother’s desertion. She was very kind and gave me a form to give to my father; it is for free school dinners. We are now a single-parent family.

Nigel has asked Barry Kent to stop menacing me for a few weeks. Barry Kent said he would think about it.