The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole (7 page)

My precious Pandora is going out with Craig Thomas. That’s the last time you get a Mars bar from me, Thomas!

Barry Kent is in trouble for drawing a nude woman in Art. Ms Fossington-Gore said that it wasn’t so much the subject matter but his ignorance of basic biological facts that was so upsetting. I did a good drawing of the Incredible Hulk smashing Craig Thomas to bits. Ms Fossington-Gore said it was a ‘powerful statement of monolithic oppression’.

Phone call from my mother. Her voice sounded funny as if she had a cold. She kept saying, ‘You’ll understand one day, Adrian’. There was a slurping sound in the background. I expect it was that Lucas creep kissing her neck. I have seen them do it on the films.

My father wouldn’t give me a note excusing me from Games so I spent nearly all morning dressed in pyjamas diving into a swimming pool and picking up a brick from the bottom. I had a bath when I came home but I still smell of chlorine. I just don’t see the point of the above lesson. When I am grown up I am hardly going to walk along a river bank in my pyjamas am I? And who would be stupid enough to dive into a river for a boring old brick? Bricks are lying around all over the place!

My father and me had a good talk last night. He asked me who I would prefer to live with, him or my mother? I said both. He told me he had made friends with a woman at work, she is called Doreen Slater. He said he would like me to meet her one day. Here we go again; so much for the suicidal, heartbroken, deserted husband!

Rang my grandmother to tell her about Doreen Slater. My grandma didn’t sound too pleased, she said it was a common-sounding name and I am inclined to agree with her.

Got
Waiting for Godot
out of the library. Disappointed to find that it was a play. Still, I will give it a go. I have been neglecting my brain lately.

Nigel asked me if I wanted to stay the weekend. His parents are going to a wedding in Croydon. My father said I could. He looked quite pleased. I am going round to Nigel’s in the morning.

I broke up for the Easter holidays today. Must make sure my brain keeps active.

First Quarter

Nigel is dead lucky. His house is absolutely fantastic! Everything is modern. I don’t know what he must think of our house, some of our furniture is over a hundred years old!

His bedroom is massive and he has got a stereo, a
colour
television, a tapedeck, a Scalextric track, an electric guitar and amplifier. Spotlights over his bed. Black walls and a white carpet and a racing car continental quilt. He has got loads of back issues
of Big and Bouncy
, so we looked through them, then Nigel had a cold shower while I cooked the soup and cut the French loaf. We had a good laugh at
Waiting for Godot
. Nigel had hysterics when I said that Vladimir and Estragon sounded like contraception pills.

I had a go on Nigel’s racing bike. I now want onemore than anything in the world. If I had to choose between Pandora and a racing bike, I would choose the bike. Sorry, Pandora, but that’s how things are.

We went to the chip shop and had the works. Fish, chips, pickled onions, gherkins, sloppy peas. Nothing was too expensive for Nigel, he gets loads of pocket money. We walked round for a bit then we came back and watched
The Bug-Eyed Monster Strikes Back
on the television. I said the bug-eyed monster reminded me of Mr Scruton the headmaster. Nigel had hysterics again. I think I have got quite a talent to amuse people. I might change my mind about becoming a vet and try writing situation comedy for television.

When the film finished Nigel said, ‘How about a nightcap?’ He went to the bar in the corner of the lounge and he poured us both a stiff whisky and soda. I hadn’t actually tasted whisky before and I never will again. How people can drink it for pleasure I don’t know. If it was in a medicine bottle they would pour it down the sink!

Don’t remember going to bed, but I must have done because I am sitting up in Nigel’s parents’ bed writing my diary.

Palm Sunday

This weekend with Nigel has really opened my eyes! Without knowing it I have been living in poverty for the past fourteen years. I have had to put up withinferior accommodation, lousy food and paltry pocket money. If my father can’t provide a decent standard of living for me on his present salary, then he will just have to start looking for another job. He is always complaining about having to flog electric storage heaters anyway. Nigel’s father has worked like a slave to create a modern environment for
his
family. Perhaps if
my
father had built a formica cocktail bar in the corner of
our
lounge my mother would still be living with us. But oh no. My father actually boasts about our hundred-year-old furniture.

Yes! Instead of being ashamed of our antiques, he is proud of the clapped-out old rubbish.

My father should take lessons from Great Literature. Madame Bovary ran away from that idiot Doctor Bovary because he couldn’t supply her needs.

Had a note from Mr Cherry asking me when I can resume my paper round. I sent a note back to say that due to my mother’s desertion I am still in a mental state. This is true. I wore odd socks yesterday without knowing it. One was red and one was green. I must pull myself together. I could end up in a lunatic asylum.

Had a postcard from my mother. She has found a flat and she wants me to visit her and Lucas as soon as possible.

Why can’t my mother write a ktter like any normal person? Why should the postman be able to read my confidential business? Her new address is 79A, President Carter Walk, Sheffield.

I asked my father if I could go; he said, ‘Yes, providing she sends the train fare’. So I have written a letter asking her to send eleven pounds eighty.

Went to the youth club with Nigel. It was dead good. We played ping-pong until the balls cracked. Then we had a go on the football table. I beat Nigel fifty goals to thirteen. Nigel went into a sulk and said that he only lost because his goalkeeper’s legs were stuck on with Sellotape but he was wrong. It was my superior skill that did it.

A gang of punks passed unkind comments about my flared trousers but Rick Lemon, the youth leader, stepped in and led a discussion on personal taste. We all agreed it should be up to the individual to dress how he or she likes. All the same I think I will ask my father if I can have a new pair of trousers. Not manyfourteen-year-olds wear flared trousers today, and I don’t wish to be conspicuous.

Barry Kent tried to get in the fire-doors to avoid paying his five-pence subs. But Rick Lemon pushed him back outside into the rain. I was very pleased. I owe Barry Kent two pounds’ menaces money.

Got a birthday card from my Auntie Susan, two weeks late! She always forgets the right day. My father said that she’s under a lot of pressure because of her job, but I can’t see it myself. I’d have thought that being a prison wardress was dead cushy, it is only locking and unlocking doors after afl. She has sent a present via the
GPO
so with luck I should get it by Christmas. Ha! Ha!

Good Friday

Poor Jesus, it must have been dead awful for him. I wouldn’t have had the guts to do it myself.

The dog has mauled the hot-cross buns; it doesn’t respect any traditions.

Got parcel from Auntie Susan. It is an embroidered toothbrush holder and it was made by one of the prisoners! She is called Grace Pool. Auntie Susan said that I should write and thank her! It is bad enough that my father’s sister works in Holloway Prison. But now I am expected to start writing to the prisoners! Grace Pool could be a murderess or anything!

Still waiting for the eleven pounds eighty pence. It doesn’t seem as if my mother is desperate to see me.

Easter Sunday

Today is the day that Jesus escaped from the cave. I expect that Houdini got the idea from him.

My father forgot to go to the bank on Friday so we are penniless. I had to take the pop bottles back to the shop to buy myself an Easter egg. Watched film, then had a fantastic tea at grandma’s. She made a cake covered in little fluffy chicks. Some of the fluff got into my father’s mouth, he had to have his back thumped hard. He always manages to spoil things. He has got no Social Decorum at all. Went to see Bert Baxter after tea. He was pleased to see me and I felt a bit rotten because I have neglected him lately. He gave me a pile of comics. They are called the
Eagle
and they have gotgreat pictures. I read them until 3 AM this morning. Us intellectuals keep anti-social hours. It does us good.

Bank Holiday in UK (except Scotland
)

My father is in a rage because the bank is still shut. He has run out of cigarettes. It will do him good. No sign of the eleven pounds eighty pence. Wrote to Grace Pool. She is in ‘D’ Wing. I put:

Dear Miss Pool,

Thank you for making the toothbrush holder. It is charming.

Yours, with kind regards, Adrian

My father was first in the queue at the bank this morning. When he got inside the cashier said he couldn’t have any money because he hadn’t got any left. My father demanded to see the manager. I was dead ashamed so I sat behind a plastic plant and waited until the shouting had stopped. Mr Niggard, the head bloke, came out and calmed my father down. He said he would arrange a temporary overdraft. My father looked dead pathetic, he kept saying, ‘It was that bloody vet’s bill’. Mr Niggard looked as if heunderstood. Perhaps he has got a mad dog as well. We can’t be the only ones, can we?

The eleven pounds, etc., came by second post so I am going to Sheffield tomorrow morning. I’ve never been on a train on my own before. I am certainly stretching my wings lately.

My father gave me a lift to the station. He also gave me a bit of advice about the journey; he said I was not to buy a pork pie from the buffet car.

I stood in the train with my head out of the window and my father stood on the platform. He kept looking at his watch. I couldn’t think of anything to say and neither could he. In the end I said, ‘Don’t forget to feed the dog, will you?’ My father gave a nasty laugh, then the train started to move so I waved and went to look for a non-smoking seat. All the filthy smokers were crammed together choking and coughing. They were a rough-looking, noisy lot so I hurried through their small carriage holding my breath. The non-smoking carriages seemed to have a quieter type of person in them. I found a window seat opposite an old lady. I had wanted to look at the landscape or read my book but the old bat started on about her daughter’s hysterectomy and telling me things I didn’t want to hear. She just about sent me barmy! It was nag, nag, nag. But thank God she got off at Chesterfield. She left her
Woman’s Own
behind so I had a goodlaugh at the Problem Page, read the story, and then the train slowed down for Sheffield. My mother started crying when she saw me. It was a bit embarrassing but quite nice at the same time. We got a taxi from the station, Sheffield looks OK, just like home really. I didn’t see any knife and fork factories. I expect Margaret Thatcher has closed them all down.

Lucas was out flogging insurance so I had my mother all to myself until eight o’clock. The flat is dead grotty, it is modern but small. You can hear the neighbours coughing. My mother is used to better things. I am dead tired, so will stop.

I hope my father is being kind to the dog. I wish my mother would come home, I had forgotten how nice she is.

St George’s Day

Me and mum went shopping today. We bought a Habitat lampshade for her bedroom and a new pair of trousers for me. They are dead good, really tight.

We had a Chinese Businessman’s Lunch and then went to see a Monty Python film all about the life of Jesus. It was dead daring, I felt guilty laughing.

Lucas was at the flat when we got back. He had got the dinner ready but I said I wasn’t hungry and I went to my room. It would choke me to eat anything that creep had touched! Later on I phoned my father froma call-box; I just had time to shout, ‘Don’t forget to feed the dog’, before the pips went.

Retired to bed early because of all the slopping Lucas was doing. He calls my mother ‘Paulie’ when he knows very well that her name is Pauline.

Helped my mother to paint her kitchen. She is doing it brown and cream, it looks awful, just like the toilets at school. Lucas bought me a penknife. He is trying to bribe me into liking him again. Hard luck, Lucas! Us Moles never forget. We are just like the Mafia, once you cross us we bear a grudge all our lives. He has stolen a wife and mother so he will have to pay the price! It is a shame because the penknife is full of gadgets that would be useful to me in my everyday life.

Lucas doesn’t work on Saturdays so I had to put up with his lechery all day. He is constantly touching my mother’s hand or kissing her or putting his arm round her shoulders, I don’t know how she stands it, it would drive me mad.

Lucas drove us out into the countryside this afternoon, it was hilly and high up. I got cold so I sat in the car and watched my mother and Lucas making anexhibition of themselves. Thank God, no members of the public were around. It is not a pretty sight to see old people running up hills laughing.

Came back, had a bath, thought about the dog, went to sleep.