The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole (12 page)

I didn’t dance, I was an amused,
cynical
observer. Besides my feet were aching.

I have seen the Royal Wedding repeats seven times on television.

New Moon

Sick to death of Royal Wedding.

Pandora, the beggar’s friend, is coming home tomorrow.

Postcard from my mother, she wants me to go on holiday with her and creep Lucas. They are going to Scotland. I hope they enjoy themselves.

Pandora’s flight has been delayed because of a baggage-handlers’ strike in Tunis.

Seventh after Trinity

The baggage-handlers are still on strike and Pandora’s father has had his American Express card stolen by a beggar!

Pandora said that her mother has been bitten by a camel but is recovering in the Ladies’ toilet at Tunis airport. It was wonderful to hear Pandora’s voice on the telephone, we talked to each other for over half an hour. How clever it was of her to arrange a reverse-charge call from Tunisia!

Bank Holiday in Scotland and Rep. of Ireland

The Tunisian baggage-handlers have agreed to go to arbitration. Pandora says that with luck she’ll be home by Thursday.

The Tunisian baggage-handlers can see light at the end of the tunnel.

Pandora is surviving on packets of dates and Polo mints.

The Tunisian baggage-handlers are now handling baggage.
Pandora home
FRIDAY
EVENING!

My father refused a reverse-charges call from Tunisia. Our lines of communication have been cut.

Moon’s First Quarter

I rang Tunisia whilst my father was in the bath. He shouted down to ask whom I was phoning. I told a lie. I said I was phoning the speaking clock.

Pandora’s flight left safely. She should be home around midnight.

At 7 AM Pandora rang from St Pancras station. She said that due to electrification of the track at Flitwick she would be delayed.

I got dressed and went down to the station, got a platform ticket, waited on platform two for six cold, lonely hours. Went home to find a note from Pandora. This is what it said:

Adrian,

I confess to feeling heartbroken at your apparent coldness concerning my arrival. I felt sure that we would have an emotional reunion on platform three. But it was not to be.

Adieu,

Pandora

Went to Pandora’s house. Explained. Had an emotional reunion behind her father’s tool shed.

Eighth after Trinity

Touched Pandora’s bust again. This time I think I felt something soft. My thing keeps growing and shrinking, it seems to have a life of its own. I can’t control it.

Pandora and I went to the swimming baths this morning. Pandora looked superb in her white string bikini. She has gone the same colour as Mrs Singh. I didn’t trust my thing to behave so I sat in the spectators’ gallery and watched Pandora diving off the highestdiving board. Got back to my house. Showed her my black room. Lit a joss stick. Put Abba LP on, sneaked a bottle of Sanatogen upstairs. We indulged in a bit of light petting but then Pandora developed a headache and went home to rest.

I was racked with sexuality but it wore off when I helped my father put manure on our rose bed.

Got another postcard from my mother.

Dear Aidy,

You’ve no idea how much I long to see you. The mothering bond is as strong as ever. I know you feel threatened by my involvement with Bimbo, but really Aidy there is no need. Bimbo fulfils my sexual needs. No more, no less. So, Aidy, grow up and come to Scotland.

Lots of love,

Pauline (mother)

P.S. We leave on the fifteenth. Catch 8.22 train to Sheffield.

The postman said that if my mother was his wife he would give her a good thrashing. He doesn’t know my mother. If anybody laid a finger on
her
she would beat them to pulp.

Pandora thinks a trial separation will do us good. She says our light to medium petting will turn quite heavy soon. I must admit that the strain is having a detrimental effect on my health. I have got no energy and my sleep is constantly interrupted with dreams about Pandora’s white bikini and Mrs O’Leary’s knickers. I might go to Scotland after all.

My father has decided to go to Skegness on the fifteenth. He has booked a four-berth caravan. He is taking Doreen and Maxwell with him! He expects me to go!

If I go people will automatically assume that Doreen is my mother and Maxwell is my brother!

I am going to Scotland.

Had tragic last night with Pandora. We have both sworn to be true. I have done all my packing. The dog has been taken round to grandma’s with fourteen tins of Pedigree Chum and a giant sack of Winalot.

I am taking
Escape from Childhood
, by John Holt, to read on the train.

Full Moon

My father, Stick Insect and Maxwell House saw me off at the station. My father didn’t mind a bit that I chose to go to Scotland instead of Skegness. In fact he looked dead cheerful. The train journey was terrible. I had to stand all the way to Sheffield. I spoke to a lady in a wheelchair who was in the guard’s van. She was very nice, she said that the only good thing about being handicapped was that you always got a seat in trains. Even if it
was
in the guard’s van.

My mother and creep Lucas met me at Sheffield. My mother looked dead thin and has started dressing in clothes that are too young for her. Lucas creep was wearing jeans! His belly was hanging over his belt. I pretended to be asleep until we got to Scotland.

Lucas mauled my mother about even whilst he was driving.

We are at a place called Loch Lubnaig. I am in bed in a log cabin. My mother and Lucas have gone to the village to try to buy cigarettes. At least that is their story.

Ninth after Trinity

There is a loch in front of the cabin and a pine forest and a mountain behind the cabin. There is nothing to do. It is dead boring.

Did some washing in a log cabin launderette. Spoke to an American tourist called Hamish Mancini; he is the same age as me. His mother is on her honeymoon for the fourth time.

Rained all day.

Sent postcards. Phoned Pandora, reversed charges. Her father refused to accept them.

Played cards with Hamish Mancini. His mother and stepfather and my mother and her lover have gone to see a waterfall in the car. Big deal!

Walked two and a half miles into Callander to buy Mars bar. Played on Space Invaders. Came back, hadtea. Phoned Pandora from log cabin phone box. Reversed charges. She still loves me. I still love her. Went to bed.

Moon’s Last Quarter

Went to see Rob Roy’s grave. Saw it, came back.

Tenth after Trinity

My mother has made friends with a couple called Mr and Mrs Ball. They have gone off to Stirling Castle. Mrs Ball has got a daughter who is a writer. I asked her how her daughter qualified to be one. Mrs Ball said that her daughter was dropped on her head as a child and has been ‘a bit queer’ ever since.

It is Mrs Ball’s birthday so they all came back to our log cabin to celebrate. I complained about the noise at 1 AM, 2 AM, 3 AM, and 4 AM. At 5 AM they decided to climb the mountain! I pointed out to them that they were blind drunk, too old, unqualified, unfit and lacking in any survival techniques, had no first-aid kit, weren’t wearing stout boots, and had no compass, map or sustaining hot drinks.

My protest fell on deaf ears. They all climbed the mountain, came down and were cooking eggs and bacon by 11.30 AM.

As I write Mr and Mrs Ball are canoeing on the loch. They must be on drugs.

Went to Edinburgh. Saw the castle, the toy museum, the art gallery. Bought a haggis. Came back to log cabin, read
Glencoe
, by John Prebble. We are going there tomorrow.

The massacre of Glencoe took place on February 13th 1692. On February 14, John Hill wrote to the Earl of Tweeddale, ‘I have ruined Glencoe’.

He was dead right, there is nothing there. Glasgow tomorrow.

We drove through Glasgow at 11 AM in the morning yet I counted twenty-seven drunks in one mile! All the shops except the
DIY
shops had grilles at the windows. Off-licences had rolls of barbed wire and broken glass on their roofs. We had a walk round for a bit, then my mother nagged Lucas creep into taking her to the Glasgow art gallery. I intended to sit in the car and read
Glencoe
, but because of all the drunksstaggering around I reluctantly followed them inside.

How glad I am that I did! I might have gone through life without having an important cultural experience!

Today I saw Salvador Dali’s painting of the Crucifixion!!!
The realone!
Not a reproduction!

They have hung it at the end of a corridor so that it changes as you get nearer to it. When you are finally standing up close to it you feel like a midget. It is absolutely fantastic!

Huge! With dead good colours and Jesus looks like a real bloke. I bought six postcards of it from the museum but of course it is not the same as the real thing.

One day I will take Pandora to see it. Perhaps on our honeymoon.

Oban today. Bumped into Mr and Mrs Swallow who live in the next street to me. Everyone kept saying, ‘It’s a small world isn’t it?’ Mrs Swallow asked creep Lucas how his wife was. Lucas told her that his wife had left him for another woman. Then everyone blushed and said what a small world it was and parted company. My mother went mad at Lucas. She said ‘Do you have to tell everyone?’ and ‘How do you think I feel living with a lesbian’s estranged husband?’ Lucas whined onfor a bit but then my mother started looking like my grandma. So he kept quiet.

Fort William today. Ben Nevis was another disappointment. I couldn’t tell where it began or stopped. The other mountains and hills clutter it up. Lucas fell in the burn (Scottish for ‘little river’) but unfortunately it was too shallow to drown in.

Full Moon

Went for a walk around the loch with Hamish Mancini. He told me that he thinks his mother is heading for her fourth divorce. He is going home tonight; he has got an appointment with his analyst in New York on Monday morning.

I have finished my packing and I am waiting for my mother and creep Lucas to come back from their furtive love-making somewhere in the pine forest.

We leave at dawn.

Eleventh after Trinity

I made Lucas stop for souvenirs at Gretna Green. I bought Pandora a pebble shaped like an otter, Bert a tam-o’—shanter, the dog a tartan bow for its neck, grandma a box of tartan fudge, Stick Insect tartan biscuits, Maxwell a tartan sweet dummy. I bought my father a tartan tea towel.

I bought myself a tartan scribbling pad. I am determined to become a writer.

Here is an extract from ‘My thoughts on Scotland’ written on the M6 at 120 mph:

The eagle pauses only to dip its majestic beak into the aqua before spreading its majestic wings and flying away to its magisterial nest high in the barren, arid, grassless hills.

The Highland cattle. Majestic horned beast of the glens lowers its brown eyed shaggy haired majestic head as it ruminates on the mysteries of Glencoe.

There are a couple too many ‘majesties’. But I think it reads rather well. I will send it to the
BBC
when it’s finished. Got home at 6 PM. Too tired to write more.

Bank Holiday in UK (except Scotland
)

Everyone is broke. The banks are closed and my father can’t remember the secret code on his plastic money-card. He had the nerve to borrow five pounds from Bert Baxter. Fancy asking an old age pensioner for money! It lacks dignity.

Pandora and I are now insanely in love! The separation only served to fuel our passion. Our hormones are stirred every time we meet. Pandora slept with the otter pebble in her hand last night. How I wish the otter pebble could have been me.

Mr Singh has had to return to India to look after his aged parents, so Bert has been told that he will have to move back into his dirty old house! Mr Singh says that he cannot trust his womenfolk to be alone in the house with Bert. How stupid can you get? Bert doesn’t mind too much; he said that it is ‘quite a compliment’. Pandora and I are going to clean Bert’s house and help him move back. He owes the council two hundred and ninety-four pounds in rent arrears. He has got to pay the arrears off at fifty pence a week, so it is a certainty that Bert will die in debt.

Pandora and I went to look at Bert’s house today. It is a truly awesome sight. If Bert took all his empty beer bottles back to the off-licence he might get enough money on the empties to pay off his rent arrears.