SECRET DIARY: KEEP OUT!
This is the intellectual property of:
The Northern Hemisphere
The Solar System
Anyone who opens this diary will be poisoned by polonium-especially
little brothers. You have been warned!
2nd January, 2013
I’ve broken my New Year Resolutions already. I ate a whole packet
of chocolate-smothered Gourmet Jelly Beans from Diva’s Deli in one go
and I didn’t write you up yesterday, my sweet companion, as there was
no time for pubescent soul-searching and navel-gazing, as Sherry and I
had to catch up with quite a few back episodes of Miranda on I-Player.
We were playing around with our new heads-up display ski goggles
which show your friends on the slopes how many vertical metres
you have covered and the hang time of your latest jump. Cool, but
Sherry’s dad said all the pupils at St Vitus’ would be wearing such
headgear in the corridors of girl power, but that we would be
revealing predicted grades, module marks and form positions instead.
Sherry told her dad that he was so yesterday, as the exams are not
going to be modular in the near future. I mean, that Cove man-like-
expects us to remember things. I don’t even register who he is. Or is it Gove?
Oh, yeah, a cove is Aussie slang for the manager of a sheep station. Hmm, he
might do better over there. Not.
Mum went to Costamuchamoulah this morning to get back into her
normal social routine after all the festive fuss. She wanted to meet up with
Candia to discuss when they were going to see a film called Quartet.
It’s about and for wrinklies. So is Amour and they want to see that
Anyway, when she arrived, she had a shock as she thought her must-
seen wrinklies’ hub had been converted to a vulgar chain. There was the
auto jumble cliche of half a car jutting out of the brickwork, looking like the
iconic 1959 Cadillac and other such classic motors embelleshing The Hard Rock
Cafés the world over.
Then she thought that she should text me and tell me to come up
pdq and to bring my digital camera as it might be useful to
have some images for my Art project. She thought that it must be an
installation by that sculptor, Richard Wilson, who stuck a tilting bus
on top of the De La Warr Pavilion in Bexhill-on-Sea.
But, on closer inspection, she saw that the number plate read:
SON IA1. It was the rear end of Sonia’s silver Vauxhall, but thankfully the old
bird wasn’t inside. Mum realised then that it wasn’t version 2 of Hang on a
minute, lads, I’ve got a Great Idea, inspired by Michael Caine in The
Italian Job, but more like Hang onto your hats, ladies. It wasn’t
Such a Good Idea to have One too many Dewlap Gins at Lunchtime.
(Quite a Lot of People Know That.)
Candia was waiting for Mum at their corner table and she had heard all
about it, first-hand, from their mutual friend, Clammie, who had been having a
cappuccino when the front bumper of the Vauxhall had made its sudden
dramatic appearance into her world, like some kind of evil vehicular advent,
or Dark Rider of the 21st century. So, she was ready to spill the beans, as
well as drinking them.
By the time I arrived with my camera, they were already well into the
epic narrative of The Prang.
Mum wouldn’t let me go and interview Sonia for my English Media
assignment until the ageing girl racer had had a couple of days to calm down
and, dare I say it?-sober up!
Adieu, dear Diary. You shall know more hereafter. ( Have got to do some
Maths, or Sherry will be in a higher percentile.) Precious wants her A*.