The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13¾ (1982)

by Sue Townsend

  Thursday March 26th

  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.

  Friday March 27th

  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.

  Saturday March 28th

  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.

  Sunday March 29th

  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.

  Monday March 30th

  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.

  Tuesday March 31st

  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.

  Spring 1981

  Wednesday April 1st

  All Fools’ Day

  Nigel rang up this morning and pretended he was an undertaker and asked when he was to pick up the body. My father answered the phone. Honestly! He has got no sense of humour.

  I had a good laugh telling girls that their petticoats were showing when they weren’t. Barry Kent brought a packet of itching powder into the Art lesson, he put some down Ms Fossington-Gore’s flying boots. She is another one without any sense of humour. Barry Kent put some down my back. It wasn’t funny. I had to go to the matron and have it removed.

  The house is looking extremely squalid because my father is not doing any housework. The dog is pining for my mother.

  I was born exactly thirteen years and three hundred and sixty-four days ago.

  Thursday April 2nd

  I am fourteen today! Got a track suit and a football from my father. (He is completely insensitive to my needs.) A Boy’s Bookof Carpentry from my grandma Mole. (No comment.) One pound inside a card from my grandad Sugden. (Last of the big spenders.) Best of all was ten pounds from my mother and five pounds from Mr Lucas. (Conscience money.)

  Nigel sent a joke card; it said on the front, ‘Who’s sexy, charming, intelligent and handsome?’ Inside it said, ‘Well it certainly ain’t you buddy!!!’ Nigel wrote ‘No offence mate’. He put ten pence inside the envelope.

  Bert Baxter sent a card to the school because he doesn’t know where I live. His handwriting is dead good, I think it is called ‘brass plate’. His card had a picture of an alsatian on the front. Inside Bert had written, ‘Best wishes from Bert and Sabre. P.S. Drain blocked up’. Inside the card there was a book token for ten shillings. It expired in December 1958, but it was a kind thought.

  So at last I am fourteen! Had a good look at myself in the mirror tonight and I think I can detect a certain maturity. (Apart from the rotten spots.)

  Friday April 3rd

  Got full marks in the Geography test today. Yes! I am proud to report that I got twerjty out of twenty! I was also complimented on the neat presentation of my work. There is nothing I don’t know about the Norwegian leather industry. Barry Kent seems to take delight in being ignorant. When Miss Elf asked him where Norway was in relation to Britain he said, ‘First cousin twice removed’. It hurts me to relate that even Pandora laughed with the rest of the class. Only Miss Elf and I remained composed. Unblocked Bert Baxter’s drain, it was full of old bones and tea leaves. I told Bert that he really ought to use tea-bags. After all this is the twentieth century! Bert said that he would give them a try. I told him that my mother has run away with an insurance man, he said ‘Was it an Act of God?’ Then he laughed until his eyes watered.

  Saturday April 4th

  New Moon

  Me and my father cleaned the house up today. We had no choice: my grandma is coming for tea tomorrow. We went to Sainsbury’s in the afternoon. My father chose a trolley that was impossible to steer. It also squeaked as if somebody was torturing mice. I was ashamed to be heard with it. My father chose food that is bad for you. I had to put my foot down andinsist that he bought some fresh fruit and salad. When we got to the check-out he couldn’t find his banker’s card, the cashier wouldn’t take a cheque without it, so the supervisor had to come and stop the argument. I had to lend my father some of my birthday money. So he owes me eight pounds thirty-eight and a half pence. I made him write an IOU on the back of the till roll.

  But I must say that I take my hat off to Sainsbury’s, they seem to attract a better class of person. I saw a vicar choosing toilet paper; he chose a four-roll pack of purple three-ply. He must have money to burn! He could have bought some shiny white and given the difference to the poor. What a hypocrite!

  Sunday April 5th

  Passion Sunday

  Nigel came round this morning. He is still mad about Pandora. I tried to take his mind off her by talking about the Norwegian leather industry but he couldn’t get interested somehow.

  I made my father get up at 1 PM. I don’t see why he should lie stinking in bed all day when I am up and about. He got up and went outside to clean the car. He found one of my mother’s earrings down the side of the back seat and he just sat there staring at it. He said, ‘Adrian, do you miss your mother?’ I replied, ‘Of course I do, but life must go on’. He then said, ‘I don’t see why’. I took this to mean that he was suicidal, so I immediately went upstairs and removed anything harmful from the bathroom.

  Afte
r we had eaten our frozen roast-beef dinner and I was washing up, he shouted from the bathroom for his razor. I lied and shouted back that I didn’t know where it was. I then removed every knife and sharp instrument from the kitchen drawer. He tried to get his battery razor to work but the batteries had leaked and gone all green.

  I like to think I am broad-minded but the language my father used was beyond the pale, and all because he couldn’t have a shave! Tea was a bit of a drag. My grandma kept saying horrible things about my mother and my father kept rambling on about how much he missed her. Nobody even noticed I was in the room! The dog got more attention than me!

  My grandma told my father off for growing a beard. She said, ‘You may think it amusing to look like a communist, George, but I don’t’. She said that even in the trenches at Ypres my grandad had shaved every day. Sometimes he had to stop rats from eating his shaving soap. She said that my grandad was even shaved by the undertaker when lying in his coffin, so if the dead could shave there was no excuse for the living. My father tried to explain, but grandma didn’t stop talking once so it was a bit difficult.

  We were both glad when she went home.

  Looked at Big and Bouncy. It is Passion Sunday after all!

  Monday April 6th

  Had a postcard from my mother. It said ‘they’ were staying with friends until they found a flat. She said I could go and stay for a weekend when they were fixed up. I didn’t show it to my father.

  Tuesday April 7th

  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.

  Wednesday April 8th

  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!

  Thursday April 9th

  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!

  Friday April 10th

  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.

  Saturday April 11th

  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.

  Sunday April 12th

  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.

  Monday April 13th

  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.

  Tuesday April 14th

  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.

  Wednesday April 15th

  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.

  Ba
rry 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.

  Thursday April 16th

  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!

  Friday April 17th

  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.

  Saturday April 18th

  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.

  Sunday April 19th

  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.