|
|
|
|
ß BACK |
|
Christmas with
Adrian Mole
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Friday, December 18th
|
|
|
MOON'S LAST QUARTER |
|
|
|
|
|
Today's rehearsal of Manger to Star
(Christmas Pantomime at school) was a fiasco. Peter Brown has grown too big for
the crib, so Mr Animba, the Woodwork teacher, has got to make another one. |
|
|
Mr Scruton (the headmaster) sat at the back
of the gym and watched rehearsals. He had a face like the north face of the
Eiger by the time we'd got to the bit where the three wise men were reviled
as capitalist pigs. |
|
|
He took Miss Elf into the showers and had a
‘Quiet Word'. |
|
|
We all heard every word he shouted. He said he wanted to see a traditional Nativity play, with a Tiny Tears doll playing Jesus and three wise men dressed in dressing gowns and tea towels. He threatened to cancel the play if Mary, alias Pandora, continued to go into simulated labour in the manger. This is typical of Scruton, he is nothing but a small-minded, provincial, sexually-inhibited fascist pig. How he rose to become a headmaster I do not know. He has been wearing the same hairy green suit for three years. How can we change it all now? The play is being performed on Tuesday afternoon. |
|
|
[…] |
|
|
I've got no money for Christmas presents. But
I have made my Christmas list in case I find ten pounds in the street. |
|
|
|
|
|
Pandora - Big bottle of Chanel No. 5 (£1.50) |
|
|
Mother - Egg-timer (75p) |
|
|
Father - Bookmark (38p) |
|
|
Grandma - Packet of J cloths (45p) |
|
|
Dog - Dog chocolates (45p) |
|
|
Bert - 20 Woodbines (95p) |
|
|
Auntie Susan - Tin of Nivea (60p) |
|
|
Sabre - Box of Bob Martins, small (39p) |
|
|
Nigel - Family box of Maltesers (34p) |
|
|
Miss Elf - Oven-glove (home-made) |
|
|
|
|
|
ß TOP |
|
Sunday, December 20th
|
|
|
FOURTH IN ADVENT |
|
|
|
|
|
Pandora and I had a private Mary and Joseph
rehearsal in my bedroom. We improvised a great scene where Mary gets back from
the Family Planning Clinic and tells Joseph she's pregnant. I played Joseph
like Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire. Pandora played Mary a
bit like Blanche Dubois; it was dead good until my father complained about
the shouting. The dog was supposed to be the lowly cattle, but it wouldn't
keep still long enough to make a tableau. |
|
|
After tea my mother casually mentioned that
she was going to wear her fox-fur coat to the school concert tomorrow. Shock!
Horror! I immediately went round to Pandora's house to get the mangy coat,
only to find that Pandora's mother has borrowed it to go to the Marriage
Guidance Christmas dinner and dance! Pandora said that she hadn't realized
that the coat was only on loan; she thought it was a lover's gift! How can a
14¾year-old schoolboy afford to give a fox-fur coat as a gift? Who does
Pandora think I am, a millionaire like Freddie Laker? |
|
|
Pandora's mother won't be back until the
early hours so I will have to go round before school and sneak the coat into
its plastic cover. It's going to be difficult, but then nothing in my life is
simple or straightforward any more. I feel like a character in a Russian
novel half the time. |
|
|
|
|
|
ß TOP |
|
Monday, December 21st
|
|
|
|
|
|
Woke up with a panic attack to see that it
was eight-fifty by my bedside digital! My black walls looked unusually light
and sparkly; one glance outside confirmed my suspicions that indeed the snow
lay outside like a white carpet. |
|
|
I stumbled through the snow to Pandora's
house in my father's fishing boots but found that the house was devoid of
humans. I looked through the letterbox and saw my mother's fur coat being
mauled about by Pandora's ginger cat. I shouted swear-words at it but the
lousy stinking cat just looked sarcastic and carried on dragging the coat
around the hall. I had no choice but to shoulder-charge the laundry-room door
and rush into the hall and rescue my mother's coat. I left quickly (as
quickly as anyone can wearing thigh-length fishing boots, four sizes too
big). I put the fur coat on to keep me warm on my hazardous journey home. I
nearly lost my bearings at the corner of Ploughman's Avenue and Shepherd's
Crook Drive, but I fought my way through the blizzard until I saw the
familiar sight of the prefabricated garages on the corner of our cul-de-sac. |
|
|
I fell into our kitchen in a state of
hypothermia and severe exhaustion; my mother was smoking a cigarette and
making mince pies. She screamed, ‘What the bloody hell are you doing wearing
my fox-fur coat?' She was not kind or concerned or anything that mothers are
supposed to be. She fussed about, wiping snow off the coat and drying the fur
with a hair dryer. She didn't even offer to make me a hot drink or anything.
She said, ‘It's been on the radio that the school is closed because of the
snow, so you can make yourself useful and check the camp beds for rust. The
Sugdens are staying over Christmas.' The Sugdens! My mother's relations from
Norfolk! Yuk, Yuk. They are all inbred and can't speak properly! |
|
|
Phoned Pandora to explain about the fox-fur
and the damage, etc., but she had gone skiing on the slope behind the Co-op
bakery. Pandora's father asked me to get off the line, he had to make an
urgent phone call to the police station. He said he had just come home and
discovered a break-in! He said the place was a shambles (the cat must have
done it, I was very careful), but fortunately the only thing that was missing
was an old fox-fur coat that Pandora had lined the cat's basket with. |
|
|
Sorry Pandora, but this is the final straw
that broke the donkey's back! You can find yourself another Joseph, I refuse
to share the stage with a girl who puts her cat's comfort before her
boyfriend's dilemma. |
|
|
|
|
|
ß TOP |
|
Tuesday, December 22nd
|
|
|
|
|
|
School was closed this morning because the
teachers couldn't manage to get in on time because of the snow. That will
teach them to live in old mill houses and windmills out in the country! Miss
Elf lives with a West Indian in a terraced house in the town, so she bravely
turned out to prepare for the school concert in the afternoon. I decided to
forgive Pandora for the fox-fur in the cat's basket incident after she had
pointed out that the cat was an expectant mother. |
|
|
The school concert was not a success. The
bell ringing from class One-G went on too long, my father said ‘The Bells!
The Bells!', and my mother laughed too loudly and made Mr Scruton look at
her. |
|
|
The school orchestra was a disaster! My
mother said, ‘When are they going to stop tuning-up and start playing?' I
told her that they had just played a Mozart horn concerto. That made my
mother and father and Pandora's mother and father start laughing in a very
unmannerly fashion. When ten-stone Alice Bernard from Three-C came on stage
in a tutu and did the dying swan, I thought my mother would explode. Alice
Bernard's mother led the applause, but not many people followed. |
|
|
The Dumbo class got up and sang a few boring old
carols. Barry Kent sang all the vulgar versions (I know because I was
watching his lips) then they sat down cross-legged, and brainbox Henderson
from Five-K played a trumpet, Jew's harp, piano and guitar. The smarmy git
looked dead superior when he was bowing during his applause. Then it was the
interval and time for me to change into my white T-shirt-and-Wranglers
Joseph costume. The tension backstage was electric. I stood in the wings (a
theatrical term - it means the side of the stage) and watched the audience
filing back into their places. Then the music from Close Encounters
boomed out over the stereo speakers, and the curtains opened on an abstract
manger and I just had time to whisper to Pandora ‘Break a leg, darling',
before Miss Elf pushed us out into the lights. My performance was brilliant!
I really got under the skin of Joseph but Pandora was less good, she forgot
to look tenderly at Jesus/Peter Brown. The three punks/wise men made too much
noise with their chains and spoiled my speech about the Middle East
situation, and the angels representing Mrs Thatcher (much hated Conservative
Prime Minister at the time) got hissed by the audience so loudly that their
spoken chorus about unemployment was wasted. |
|
|
Still, all in all, it was well received by
the audience. Mr Scruton got up and made a hypocritical speech about ‘a brave
experiment' and ‘Miss Elf’s tireless work behind the scenes', and then we all
sang ‘We wish you a Merry Christmas'! |
|
|
Driving home in the car my father said, ‘That
was the funniest Nativity play I have ever seen. Whose idea was it to turn
it into a comedy?' I didn't reply. It wasn't a comedy. |
|
|
|
|
|
ß TOP |
|
Wednesday, December 23rd
|
|
|
|
|
|
9. a.m. Only two shopping days left for Christmas
and I am still penniless. I have made a Blue Peter oven-glove for Miss Elf,
but in order to give it to her in time for Christmas I will have to go into
the ghetto and risk getting mugged. |
|
|
I will have to go out carol singing, there is
nothing else I can do to raise finance. |
|
|
10 p.m. Just got back from carol singing. The
suburban houses were a dead loss. People shouted, ‘Come back at Christmas',
without even opening the door. My most appreciative audience were the drunks
staggering in and out of the Black Bull. Some of them wept openly at the
beauty of my solo rendition of ‘Silent Night'. I must say that I presented a
touching picture as I stood in the snow with my young face lifted to the
heavens ignoring the scenes of drunken revelry around me. |
|
|
I made £3.13½ plus an Irish tenpence and
Guinness bottletop. I'm going out again tomorrow. I will wear my school
uniform, it should be worth a few extra quid. |
|
|
|
|
Thursday, December 24th
|
|
|
|
|
|
Took Bert's Woodbines round to the home. Bert
is hurt because I haven't been to see him. He said he didn't want to spend
Christmas with a lot of malicious old women. Him and Queenie are causing a
scandal. They are unofficially engaged. They have got their names on the same
ashtray. I have invited Bert and Queenie for Christmas Day. My mother doesn't
know yet but I'm sure she won't mind, we have got a big turkey. I sang a few
carols for the old ladies. I made two pounds eleven pence out of them so I
went to Woolworth's to buy Pandora's Chanel No. 5. They hadn't got any so I
bought her an underarm deodorant instead. |
|
|
The house looks dead clean and sparkling, there is a magic smell of cooking and satsumas in the air. I have searched around for my presents but they are not in the usual places. I want a racing bike, nothing else will please me. It's time I was independently mobile. |
|
|
11 p.m. Just got back from the Black Bull.
Pandora came with me, we wore our school uniforms and reminded all the drunks
of their own children. They coughed up conscience money to the tune of twelve
pounds fifty-seven! So we are going to see a pantomime on Boxing Day and we
will have a family bar of Cadbury's Dairy Milk each! |
|
|
|
|
Friday, December 25th
|
|
|
CHRISTMAS DAY |
|
|
|
|
|
Got up at 5 a.m. to have a ride on my racing bike.
My father paid for it with American Express. I couldn't ride it far because
of the snow, but it didn't matter. I just like looking at it. My father had
written on the gift tag attached to the handlebars, ‘Don't leave it out in
the rain this time' - as if I would! |
|
|
My parents had severe hangovers, so I took them breakfast in bed and gave them my presents at the same time. My mother was overjoyed with her egg-timer and my father was equally delighted with his bookmark, in fact everything was going OK until I casually mentioned that Bert and Queenie were my guests for the day, and would my father mind getting out of bed and picking them up in his car. |
|
|
The row went on until the lousy Sugdens
arrived. My grandma and grandad Sugden and Uncle Dennis and his wife Marcia
and their son Maurice all look the same, as if they went to funerals every
day of their lives. I can hardly believe that my mother is related to them.
The Sugdens refused a drink and had a cup of tea whilst my mother defrosted
the turkey in the bath. I helped my father carry Queenie (fifteen stone) and
Bert (fourteen stone) out of our car. Queenie is one of those loud types of
old ladies who dye their hair and try to look young. Bert is in love with
her. He told me when I was helping him into the toilet. |
|
|
Grandma Mole and Auntie Susan came at twelve-thirty and
pretended to like the Sugdens. Auntie Susan told some amusing stories about
life in prison but nobody but me and my father and Bert and Queenie laughed. |
|
|
I went up to the bathroom and found my mother
crying and running the turkey under the hot tap. She said, ‘The bloody thing
won't thaw out, Adrian. What am I going to do?' I said, ‘Just bung it in the
oven'. So she did. |
|
|
We sat down to eat Christmas dinner four
hours late. By then my father was too drunk to eat anything. The Sugdens
enjoyed the Queen's Speech but nothing else seemed to please them. Grandma
Sugden gave me a book called Bible Stories for Boys. I could hardly
tell her that I had lost my faith, so I said thank-you and wore a false smile
for so long that it hurt. |
|
|
The Sugdens went to their camp beds at ten
o'clock. Bert, Queenie and my mother and father played cards while I polished
my bike. We all had a good time making jokes about the Sugdens. Then my
father drove Bert and Queenie back to the home and I phoned Pandora up and
told her that I loved her more than life itself. |
|
|
I am going round to her house tomorrow to give her the deodorant and escort her to the pantomime. |
|
|
|
|
|
ß TOP |
|
Saturday, December 26th
|
|
|
BANK HOLIDAY IN UK AND REP. OF IRELAND (a day
may be given in lieu). |
|
|
N E W M
O O N |
|
|
|
|
|
The Sugdens got up at 7 a.m. and sat around in
their best clothes looking respectable. I went out on my bike. When I got
back my mother was still in bed, and my father was arguing with Grandad
Sugden about our dog's behaviour, so I went for another ride. |
|
|
I called in on Grandma Mole, ate four mince pies, then rode back home. I got up to 30 mph on the dual carriageway, it was dead good. I put my new suede jacket and corduroy trousers on (courtesy of my father's Barclaycard) and called for Pandora; she gave me a bottle of after-shave for my Christmas present. It was a proud moment, it signified the End of Childhood. |
|
|
We quite enjoyed the pantomime but it was
rather childish for our taste. Bill Ash and Carole Hayman were good as Aladdin
and the Princess, but the robbers played by Jeff Teare and Ian Giles were
best. Sue Pomeroy gave a hilarious performance as Widow Twankey. In this she
was greatly helped by her cow, played by Chris Martin and Lou Wakefield. |
|
|
|
|
|
ß TOP |
|
Sunday, December 27th
|
|
|
1ST AFTER CHRISTMAS |
|
|
|
|
|
The Sugdens have gone back to Norfolk, thank
God! |
|
|
The house is back to its usual mess. My parents took a bottle of vodka and two glasses to bed with them last night. I haven't seen them since. |
|
|
Went to Melton Mowbray on my bike, did it in
five hours. |
|
|
|
|
Monday, December 28th
|
|
|
|
|
|
I am in trouble for leaving my bike outside
last night. My parents are not speaking to me. I don't care, I have just had
a shave and I feel magic. |
|
|
|
|
Tuesday, December 29th
|
|
|
|
|
|
My father is in a bad mood because there is
only a bottle of V.P. sherry left to drink. He has gone round Pandora's house
to borrow a bottle of spirits. |
|
|
The dog has pulled the Christmas tree down
and made all the pine needles stick in the shag-pile. |
|
|
I have finished all my Christmas books and
the library is still shut. I am reduced to reading my father's Reader's
Digests and testing my word power. |
|
|
|
|
Wednesday, December 30th
|
|
|
|
|
|
All the balloons have shrivelled up. They
look like old women's breasts shown on television documentaries about the
Third World. |
|
|
|
|
Thursday, December 31st
|
|
|
|
|
|
The last day of the year! A lot has happened.
I have fallen in love. Been a one-parent child. Gone Intellectual. And had
two letters from the BBC. Not bad going for a 14 ¾-year-old! |
|
|
My mother and father have been to a New
Year's Eve dance at the Grand Hotel. My mother actually wore a dress! It is over
a year since she showed her legs in public. |
|
|
Pandora and I saw the New Year in together,
we had a dead passionate session accompanied by Andy Stewart and a bagpiper. |
|
|
My father came crashing through the front door
at 1 a.m. carrying a lump of coal in his hand. Drunk as usual. |
|
|
My mother started going on about what a
wonderful son I was and how much she loved me. It's a pity she never says
anything like that when she is sober. |
|
|
|
|
|
ß TOP |