Where Did It All Go Right?

by Andrew Collins

  T – 0

  D – 1

  Exams, look …

  Friday, 15 December

  Exams end. Phew. Flippin’ what an ace day. Exams:

  Biology: okay

  History: okay

  Maths: not bad

  Also had a cross-country (inter-form). I came 135th out of 300. Not bad. But (here’s the good bit) there was a third year Xmas disco at skool (7.30–10.00). It was reel cool. Everyone freaked out. I did the twist with George, pogo with John Lewis, a real good footsie with John, Bill, Lee, Si and George,22 and an ace smooch with Liz.23 Grate.

  T – 5

  D – 0

  Tuesday, 19 December

  Exam marks I got today:

  Geography: 72% (2nd)

  Biology: 84% (1st)

  History: 78% (4th)

  Hirsty gave me my Xmas pressie (The Sentinel paperback, about the Devil, evil etc.). Got the Christmas Look-In. Fairly good day at school. Saw Carry On Matron, an ace film about maternity wards. Also Dean came.

  TRIUMPHS 4

  DISASTERS 0

  Thursday, 21 December

  Dean came today. It snowed again but went all slushy. Tonight … Dad and Mum took Si, Melissa and me to the New Theatre in Oxford to see Aladdin, starring Little & Large, Norman Collier, Charlie Caroli etc. It was ace. Charlie Caroli did a real larf slapstick bit and Little & Large did the usual. A brill panto. We came back at 12.00.

  TRIUMPHS 3

  DISASTERS 0

  Sunday, 24 December

  Christmas Eve. Just thought I’d mention it, y’know. Absolutely brill. Flippin’ it’s Christmas tomorrow. Brill. I helped Mum and Dad make the fresh fruit salad: apples, pears, nanas, melon, pineapple, grapefruit, grapes, oranges etc. Luvly, gorgeous, brill. Went to Auntie Margaret’s. Nan and Pap came tonight. So did Uncle Brian. Brill. Brill. Brill.

  TRIUMPHS 4

  ABSOLUTELY NO DISASTERS

  Monday, 25 December

  And the brill 1978 Christmas pressy rundown is as follows: £4.50 in vouchers, Lego technical set,24 magnetic chess, giant drawing pad, George & Mildred game, Game Of Dracula, horror movie book, Birds of Britain book, Jet Journey book, Star Wars annual, Sci-Fi Now book, stapler, Radio 1 diary, Mad Look at Old Movies, Grease paperback, Spike Milligan’s Military Memoirs, page-a-day diary, German dictionary, Boy’s Handbook, Quality Streets, Pisces pendant,25 Britain stencil, sketch book, ten-colour biro, letter stencil, hankie, plus mini Shell Lego set, Leeds mug. It wuz the brillest Christmas ever.

  T – 8

  D – O

  SUPERSCORE

  1. See Chapter 12.

  2. We get this phrase a lot in ’78. Don’t be fooled. It means ‘chatted to’.

  3. If I may say so, Tracey Allen was out of my league. I had not yet turned 13. She had, in a big way. She had a curly perm, breasts and one of those Afro combs, and she wore a skirt down to her ankles. Way out of my league.

  4. Mum’s bought a new cookery book! Basically mashed potatoes out of an icing bag, browned under the grill.

  5. What did I expect to ‘do’ on a school trip? Put my arm around her? Sheer fantasy. I would achieve even the most innocent physicality only intermittently during the first year of girls.

  6. Tina Woods was certainly closer to my league, in that I’d known her since primary school and she lived on the estate (Crediton Close). I think it was in 1978 that she had her head bandaged up to stop her ears sticking out.

  7. Jackie was another girl I’d known since early childhood: she lived over the back in Huntsham Close; her parents were part of the old school-run rota. She was a nice girl (in the same way that Tracey Allen was a naughty girl).

  8. No memory of this guy. I bet he was in the school team. I seem to remember Tina was a bit of a netballer.

  9. Not sure where this triumphs vs. disasters thing came from. It’s very Bridget Jones, isn’t it? Notice how disasters almost never win u2013 that’s the kind of spin doctor I was. Not such a bad trait really.

  10. Read nothing intimate into this. I didn’t even kiss her on the cheek.

  11. I’ve been in touch with Anita and she doesn’t remember this. (Or else she chooses not to!) She was going out with Paul at this stage – whatever that means when you’re 13 – so I suspect it was an act of benevolence to allow me to put my arm around her. Paul obviously believed in sharing.

  12. Lindsey Best. Daughter of former Cobblers player Billy Best, which put her – guess where? – out of my league.

  13. Hayley Mayo, the girl with whom I later tried my first Chinese takeaway. I suppose you could go mad and call her my first ‘girlfriend’, in that we went around together a lot that June (usually with her older brother Vaughan in tow – although I hero-worshipped him). Hayley was my first kiss. Much too tall for me, but then who wasn’t?

  14. Not really.

  15. Travel certainly broadened my mind.

  16. Inadvertent catch-phrase of one of our French teachers, Mr Eschalier.

  17. It was a party at Nina Thadani’s house, except with the music turned up.

  18. Not Paul Bush (who had gone to a different school by now, the Wrenn in Wellingborough) but Paul Price, a briefcase boy I would soon be forced to deny when I became hard and thick.

  19. David Hirst came out of virtually nowhere and turned into a good mate at Weston Favell, largely because he was one of the few Abington Vale kids there (he lived on Bridgewater Drive; car porch). Tall kid with an unfortunate sticking-out top lip, he lent me some brilliant grown-up paperbacks like the novelisations of Young Frankenstein and The Omen, which broadened my palate. Again, I would be forced to distance myself from Hirsty when I changed my spots. Sad really. His Friends Reunited entry invites good cheer though: ‘Now living in Southport (though still in Northampton regularly visiting family). Have acquired since school one wife, three children, one cat, a Baptist Church to run and greatly increased stress levels.’ (Clearly cast aside The Omen then.)

  20. I know, I know. See Chapter 13.

  21. Though not a natural sportsman, I did give squash a run for its money, inspired to take it up by watching Mum and Dad play. It became a valuable father-son bonding time: we sweated and showered together and drank in the bar afterwards (I had orange and lemonade). He had always been vocally disappointed that I hadn’t turned into a little footballer – and I think Simon had taken up fishing in the park by now – so this was the next best thing.

  22. The Leeds scarf was working …

  23. Liz Heathcoate I think, a girl I would never ‘go out with’ although she was a good friend in later years.

  24. My last toy, although I didn’t know it.

  25. Mum’s idea. Simon got a Gemini one. I never wore mine. Hated the feel of metal against my skin and still do.

  1979

  Selected Extracts From My Diary

  THE BIG TIME. A walloping page-a-day Boots diary – in unfetching dog’s-muck brown – whose sheer size marks a turning point in the daily record of my life. More space, but don’t expect more insight and detail (if anything, after a gung-ho start I end up writing less than ever as the novelty wears thin). Of all the diaries so far, 1979 most resembles a drawing book; an art happening; a repository for creative energy and half-formed ideas.

  By the end of 1979 I drift into fantasy, creating an ecosystem of cartoon characters (the Talented Ten) who inhabit the diary’s pages and play out a continuous narrative, whimsical then rather dark. This is bad news for anyone interested in what the 14-year-old me is doing day to day. It may be a big book, but the latter entries often consist of one, bald line:

  ‘Had last haircut of 1979. O boy.’

  Punk has arrived in the provinces, which explains the ransom-note lettering stuck to the front of the diary, reading: ANDY COLLINS. PRIVATE! (Note: I am now officially Andy.)

  The traditional questionnaire – filled in at the very end of 1978 – reveals that I like Monty Python, Clapperboard, wombats, girls and The Rats.

  I’m afraid the deli
berately quirky spelling continues.

  Tuesday, 2 January

  Paul Bush came for dinner and we generally mucked about, taking the pee out of these two women sitting in front of us on the bus going to town, buying Scalextrix bridge for him and a pack of three Pentels for me, getting cold because it snowed, having to stand next to Sarah Gribble in the bus queue, playing a game of Scrabble using only slang and rude words, getting oil on my t-shirt as I fixed my new Smoker skateboard wheels on in my bedroom, writing pointless things in this new scribbling diary, getting a late Christmas card from him, trying very hard to arrange when to see each other again because he’s got rugby and I’m going swimming, making lots of footprints in the virgin snow, reading yesterday’s diary and thinking, ‘How could I possibly fill up yet another day with just one visit from Paul Bush?’ And Paul forgot to take home: his Christmas present from me, one Status Quo single, and his Chelsea scarf which I shall burn, mangle, mutilate, rip and wipe my bum on.

  Si and I had a late night slipper fight and it was a magic larf. I didn’t in fact do my diary, I wrote this today (tomorrow) and this day is yesterday (I think …)

  Sunday, 7 January

  Nothing particularly fantastic, outrageously interesting, overwhelmingly fascinating, wow, zow, powie, zok, thrillsville happened. I lolled around on my bed, sorted all my drawers of drawings out a few times, lolled around on my bed, lolled around in the lounge, lolled around in the loo, wandered about, tried to start a colossal drawing project, completely read the Radio and TV Times, plus the Sunday Mirror, and this diary, lolled around on a living room chair, and lolled around on the floor until it was dinnertime, After dinner I read a crossword puzzle book a few times, cleared out my paperback collection and studied my Mad magazines and then something really WOW happened!! …

  We had tea. But … I did have gorgeous crumpet with jam and two cakes. Luvly. And then we watched It’ll Be Alright on the Night and That’s Life after playing Scrabble.

  And now I’ve gotta think of something to fill up this space. I’ve just gotta, you know … Simon and Melissa have got no school because the lorry drivers’ strikes and oil dispute mean there is no heat (along with 90 other Northampton schools NOT including our school).

  Monday, 15 January OFF SCHOOL DUE TO OIL DISPUTE

  I had a super enjoyable fun-day in the morning as I did my biology and French homework. O what fun. As a matter of fact, it was bloody boring. But I went to Pete Day’s1 and Simon and me had ace fun, smashing the odd spare room light, chucking teddys and pillows and chairs at each other, burying me alive, digging me up dead, drinking ‘Peter Specials’ (concoctions of any liquid he can lay hands on tipped in a glass with Coke, also including orange, gin, tapwater, rainwater, Vigor, Dettol and a spot of Domestos).

  We’re still on parole off school, jolly ace, flippin’ brill show, good etc. And Dad took Melissa and me to sleep at Nan Mabel and Pap Reg’s and I had to miss Monty Python as it annoys Nan and bores Pap. So I watched Danger UXB (which stands for Useless UneXplainable Bore) but it was bearable. And Melissa slept in the spare room and I slept on the settee with continental quilt filled with gravel and it was comfy with two pillows and I got to beddy-byes supa-quick and I wrote stacks too many ‘and’s. Awful English, Andrew. 5/10 could try harder.

  Wednesday, 17 January

  We were shovelled out of bed at 8.30 and Dad took us kids to Nan and Pap Collins’. We actually woke up at about 11.00 and then I did some drawing, I did my Film Review and it’s a larf. I thought about my physics homework but that’s about all.

  We had a nice luncheon of chips, bacon and apple pie (in separate buckets of course) and then Mrs Day plus Pete came to collect Simon to go and see Bambi at the flicks. Well, Jaws 2 really. Same difference, just as gory.

  And I’ve now got three things to look forward to …

  Dad has ordered the Rocky LP from the record library and I’ll get it in three weeks.

  Dad has ordered the Rocky paperback from the bookshop at Wellingborough and I’ll get it in two weeks.

  I have sent away 70p for two back issue of Mad (The Omen and Obsession) and I should get them in two weeks.

  I have sent away for the mafia kit in Twinkle comic. You get a pinstripe suit, shoulder pads, a pizza, a ready-rolled mafia-type joint cigarette, a horse’s head, three car bombs, a book on how to talk like Marlon Brando, a machine gun and a mafia club pin-on badge and letter bomb. Oh sorry, I’ve gone again, slap me out of it someone, give me a glass of water …

  Saturday, 20 January

  It snowed yesterday and so it wuz all slushy this morning when I went to art school. At college we made set-ups of apples, pencils, flower pots, tins and anything else we could get hold of (eg. small dead mammals, mortar bombs, lungs) and then we drew them and coloured them and shaded them and smudged them. By the time we got out and Dad picked me up the slush had melted.

  Dad got me the single ‘Baby Lay Your Love On Me’ by Racey.2 It is ace. And Melissa got Olivia’s latest single which is everso ace as well.

  Uncle Pip, Auntie Val, Pete, James and Edward were supposed to have been coming for tea from Solihull but it was too foggy and they couldn’t get through to good ol’ Northants.

  Wow! I haven’t drawn a picture in my diary since January 7th. Amazin’. Anyway … We played roulette and bingo in the afternoon and I lose a fortune every time. I did this time.

  Tonite, after half a can of meths … well, Coke, plus some crisps and chicken feed, Simon and me watched The Iron Maiden (a film) about nude ladies and sharks and spies and Dracula and (traction engines really).

  Thursday, 25 January

  Good ol’ Mother Nature had toughed up the slush all day by covering it with another three inches of snow glorious snow. It came down from 7.00 in the morning till 5.00 at night.

  Mr Goldthorpe was away. Hence: no proper chemistry work. Hence: no no no no no no no no no homework. Hence: mucking about for a double lesson conversing about snow, slush, chemistry (occasionally), sweets, snow, telly, girls etc.

  At breaks plus dindins time all (well most of …) Weston Favell re-enacted World War II with snow against Nene College.3 It was a good, wet larf and everyone was late in after dinner. Had a rugby test in games (yes! I did get 29/50).

  Walked home. After tea, did homework, read Mads, saw Top of the Pops, saw Blankety Dankety Crankety Yankety Blank.

  Thursday, 1 February

  Bloody boring, dull, limp day at school and I’m getting sick of writing whole pages of diary every day and that’s why I always put boring-dull-limp for wot I did at school. But we had no homework at all and (you see it’s all coming back to me) both Mrs Dee and Mr Goldthorpe were away, hence: no proper double chemistry or geog. And me and Wayne got 6/10 for our wall we knocked up in building craft.4

  And it rained and covered all the melting slush/ice and the weather does get to be a bit of a drag nowadays, but at least we had just a quiz in games. Our class came joint third (last in other words, oh I’m sorry).

  Tonight Dad took Liss and me to see Watership Down at the ABC. It was a cartoon film all about rabbits moving warrens and it was a pretty gory, thrilling ‘U’ certificate eg. one rabbit got bloodied up when caught in a snare, and the hero rabbit had a ‘rip apart blood and saliva scar tear scratch’ fight with the general baddie rabbit with one eye. It woz good tho’ and I did get a Film Review, February, with The Omen II, Jaws 2, Capricorn One, Superman Nil (and Leeds – 82).

  Thursday, 8 February

  Design. Building crap. Me, Wayne and Tarry made a massive tower of bricks and Wayne sat on it and I slopped mortar over Tarry’s hand and Tina and Liz mixed the cement up all runny and cowpat-like. We got 6/10. Messy.

  PE. Games. Rugby. But it was too hard’n’treacherous-death-trap on the pitches so we done swimming and Chris Bradshaw and me did our 15 and 25 yards. O ace. Spit and chlorine.

  Dinnertime. Dinner was OK. It was bearable. But the curry was like volcanic lava with gravel.

  Chemistry. Mr Gol
dthorpe is still away ’cos of a moped crash so we had Mrs Greene with no h/w.

  Geography. Mrs Dee was still away so we kicked around and Phil, Si and me ate Polos during a film strip about lava and school curry. No h/w.

  After skool. German.5 We got sick of writing down all the German foods. Cold sausage with coleslaw and pickled cabbage and schnitzel and a bowl of fresh cream with Lego bricks or something.

  After after skool. Before bed. Did drawing, saw Blankety Yank.

  Wednesday, 14 February

  Prat Poems No.46

  I looked out of my bedroom

  My heart was full of woe

  I had to go to Weston

  Only it had been pouring with soft, flaky snow

  We started off with English

  And French was looming near

  And even maths was not as bad

  As reading crap Shakespeare

  Dinnertime was normal

  With snow coming down, not rain

  We had lava pie, with potatoes

  And custard right out of a drain

  And then we went swimming for double

  I marked off the bronze survival

  But I can still only swim 25 yards

  And the only word that rymes is ‘rival’

  And then we had technology

  And old Mr Archer’s away

  And it’s a good job that it wasn’t poetry

  Because I am not too good

  This is becoming quite boring

  But I’ve got to write diaries somehow

  Tonight I done some drawing

  And the word that will ryme here is ‘cow’

  I don’t think poetry is for me

  Because for a start I can’t spell ryme

  And I reckon it’s not exactly Macbeth

  Or A Midsummer Night’s Shrew The Third

  Or something

  By Andrew Coleridge Samuel Collins, aged 3

  Sunday, 4 March

  Magic ace brill, it’s my 14th birfday. If you’d worked out from yesterday’s diary, you’d have realised Angus slept. That meal last night was luvly. Plus gallons of cider, then a cup of coffee as we played Scrabble and I had a nose bleed.