According to the email Mr deClarkson sent out yesterday, ‘Smart appearance = Smart brains’, so one of the first things to be implemented is a brand new school uniform. In come bright red pullovers emblazoned with the school crest, striped school ties and school caps; and out go school hoodies, school N-Dubz T-shirts and school holsters.
Which is all well and good but it’s us poor parents who have to bear the brunt. I shall be surprised if I have much change left from £20.
4 Sunday
I told Stephen I didn’t fancy playing lady of the manor and naughty farmhand this morning, but he’s ploughing on regardless.
5 Monday
First day of the new school year. After six weeks with the little darlings, it’s always awfully sad to see them walk out of that front door with their little bags slung over their shoulders. Fortunately, our bedroom window faces the back yard so I don’t have to.
6 Tuesday
I must say, Hugh Junior seems to have settled into the new school very quickly. He was terribly excited when he told me about the purpose-built science block (complete with its own Petri dish and Bunsen burner) when he got back yesterday. He seems genuinely enthusiastic about learning. Obviously he gets that from me.
7 Wednesday
Received another email from Mr deClarkson. He says that having spent a couple of days familiarising himself with the ‘socio-economic-appropriate challenges facing this learning facilitation environment’ he has decided to introduce a new disciplinary system. He clearly means business. With immediate effect, he’s banning swearing, blades and narcotics from the school premises, and that even extends to the pupils.
8 Thursday
Found Stephen relieving himself in the wardrobe again last night. He wasn’t drunk. He just really hates that new shirt I bought him.
9 Friday
Stephen’s just texted. Apparently, he’s moved on from the Red Lion to Spearmint Ronnie’s. That’s what I love about my Stephen – he’s so considerate. Whenever he gets the drunken urge to frequent a jazz and lap-dancing establishment, he always lets me know – very often in capitals, with a LOL or OMG for good measure.
10 Saturday
What a lovely surprise. If there’s one cultural event that unites the Fry family it’s Scufflemania, the pinnacle of the year’s fight season. This year, for the very first time, it’s being held in our own Red Lion car park and Stephen’s got us all tickets for tomorrow night. Of course it’s not really my cup of tea, but being the selfless individual I am I’m happy to make the effort in the cause of family unity.
11 Sunday
What a night! Scufflemania certainly doesn’t disappoint. We arrived early and took up our seats on the recycle bin. The crisp packets, vomit and sexually experimental couples had been tidied away and the car park had been transformed into a modern day Colosseum, awaiting the entry of the gladiators who would battle it out for the envied title of Undisputed Pub Car Park Champion.
It wasn’t long before the place was full, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. As 11 o’clock approached, the car park fell silent. The security lights were dimmed and all eyes strained to focus on the entrance to the snug. Suddenly, Sparks’ seventies high-energy pop classic, ‘This Town Ain’t Big Enough For the Both of Us’ struck up from the pub jukebox, the lights rose to full beam and out strode the first competitor to a combination of wild applause and verbal abuse. Over the karaoke mic, the landlord announced him as ‘Steroid – the five-foot-two-inch borderline psychotic powerhouse from Lytham St Anne’s’. ‘Steroid’, aka Shane Watkins, limbered up on the floodlit tarmac by punching several members of the front row as his opponent B.G.B. entered the arena, also to the strains of Sparks’ seventies high-energy pop classic, ‘This Town Ain’t Big Enough For the Both of Us’. The jukebox has a very limited selection. Apparently, it’s either Sparks or Enya.
The fight see-sawed from one man to the other, with Steroid having the upper hand for many of the early rounds before Big Girl’s Blouse struck back with his trademark move, the broken bottle. In the end Steroid was triumphant, securing a place in the final with the classic ‘lawnmower to the face’. There, he was pitted against the mysterious Masked Chief Inspector Bryant, conqueror of the much-fancied Caretaker.
It was a gruelling encounter, but after 30 bruising minutes a combination of guile, stamina and a set of incriminating photographs was enough to put Steroid away in the fourth. The Masked Chief Inspector left the arena holding the championship belt aloft, to a chorus of disapproval and ‘Orinoco Flow’.
12 Monday
Stephen Junior’s first day at YODA. It’s so nice to see him enthusiastic about something other than mindless violence and Lion bars. Today they gave an introductory lecture, detailing all the different components of the course. It’s quite a range, I must say – everything from busking skills to vocal projection for Big Issue sellers. Stephen Junior’s opted initially for ‘Extras Work for Beginners: How to Blend Seamlessly into the Background’ and ‘Overacting on a Budget: The Straight to Video Method’.
13 Tuesday
Very exciting! Only his second day and Stephen Junior’s been given a part in the school’s Christmas production of Stephen Sondheim’s Kray twins musical A Little R ’n’ R. He’s got the role of Man in Kebab Shop. Even Stephen was impressed when I told him, although he still maintains that acting is no kind of career and he ought to get something more fitting to ‘a real man’ – presumably, ‘real man in real kebab shop’.
14 Wednesday
Inspired by Stephen Junior, I’ve started a new course this evening myself. Sadly, the creative writing isn’t running this term, due to the lecturer taking a sabbatical to go round the world (he’s travelling by balloon – should be back in just under three months, apparently), so I’ve opted instead for a poetry course. I must say the lecturer, Angela Wordsmith, is lovely. She’s a published poet, awfully poised and elegant – rather like a very slightly younger version of myself – and she seems to have taken quite a shine to me. I think she probably senses a kindred spirit – after all, I do have the soul of a poet. In fact, I don’t know why I haven’t done this sooner. To think, all those years of creative brilliance wasted. Thank goodness I realised in time, otherwise the world might have been denied my genius.
Tonight was an informal introductory session, clearly aimed at those members of the class less gifted than I. We sat in a circle, discussing our influences. I have to say I did feel a twinge of embarrassment for the others as they trotted out the usual suspects – Keats, Byron, Coleridge … Honestly, you’d think no one since the twelfth century had written a poem.
After that, we had a little workshop in which we each had just 10 minutes to write a poem, or a stream of consciousness, as Ms Wordsmith called it, on the subject of autumn. Then we each took a turn to read ours to the rest of the group. I was a little nervous initially but, having heard the first few efforts, I knew I had nothing to worry about. When it came to my turn, I rose confidently from my chair and, holding my sheet of A4 at arm’s length, I proceeded to read. I’m so proud of my effort that I’ve stuck it in this diary for posterity …
‘AUTUMN’ by Edna Fry (Mrs)
I woke up this morning and peered through the curtain,
And spied an odd sight that was strange, that’s for certain.
A beautiful carpet had covered the ground,
A carpet of orange, red, yellow and brown …
I said to myself, ‘What is this that I see?’
A ground-covering carpet? Why, this cannot be!
But then I looked closer. I looked at the trees,
I looked at the sky and the absence of bees.
The trees were all bare, it was not time for lunch,
So I crunched and I munched through my leafless branch brunch.
I wolfed down my breakfast of tea, toast and jam,
Of bacon and shmacon and green eggs and Spam.
And when I was done and my stomach was bursting,
An
d the squeeps were all squeeped and the squirsts were all squirsting,
I started to wander and ponder and muse,
And my muse-ponder wander brought very good news.
For as thoughts are all thunk and reasons are reasoned,
So weeks are all week and seasons are seasoned.
If this were America, then it would be fall,
But we’re right here in England, so it’s not fall at all.
And now it was clearer than clearer can be,
As clear as a clear-clear on a clear-clearing clee!
I giggled and jiggled and smacked my sore tum,
And I jumped up and cried, ‘Why this must be autumn!’
And from that day to this, when the streets are all covered,
And the scarves are all scarfed and the gloves are all glovered,
And my brunch is all munched and my tum is sore tumnal,
I know that this season, it must be autumnal.
I sat back in my seat, exhausted. I think I can safely say that the group was more than a little taken aback by the raw power of my performance. They sat open-mouthed for what seemed an age before Angela clasped her hands together enthusiastically and announced that was the end of the session.
I’m not an insensitive person, so I waited until the rest of the class had left before asking Ms Wordsmith for her opinion of my work. She was extremely encouraging. She placed her arm round my shoulder and told me that I possessed ‘a highly distinctive poetic voice’. Now, I’m not one for public displays of emotion – or private, come to that, unless it’s a Sunday morning – but I have to say I had an ever-so-small skip in my step as I walked home from the community college tonight. Finally, I’ve been discovered!
15 Thursday
Had a letter from Miss Campbell today. She’d like us to come in on Monday so that she can talk to us about Brangelina. I can’t wait. Brangelina’s the only one of our children who’s never had a single report. Or detention. Or criminal record.
16 Friday
Oh dear! I knew it was all going too well. Stephen Junior’s just come home early from drama school. He’s been thrown out of the Christmas performance. According to the letter he brought back, he is ‘exhibiting levels of violent behaviour unacceptable in an educational environment – or gangland London’. The poor dear’s distraught, although I expect Stephen will be delighted.
17 Saturday
Stephen’s sulking this morning. I refused to wear my woodland creature costume for him last night even though he’s been badgering me for ages.
18 Sunday
Felt bad about the other night so I wore my Bo Peep outfit for Stephen this morning. He was feeling a little sheepish.
19 Monday
Goodness! I’ve just had a call from the drama school. They’ve decided to reinstate Stephen Junior in the show. Not only that, but he’s now playing Reggie Kray. And Ronnie. And their mother. When I asked what had made them change their mind, they just said that his father had had ‘a little word’. Extraordinary!
20 Tuesday
We went to meet Brangelina’s new teacher after school. Miss Campbell was extremely nice when we eventually found her, crouching in the stock-room with a Silk Cut hanging from her lips. It turns out she’s only recently taken them up, but apparently the new head has some objection to staff smoking in the classroom. He said the children might suffer from passive smoking, so he obviously doesn’t know them very well yet.
It’s clear that in the short time Miss Campbell has been in the school, she’s already managed to settle in very well. She’d made the class stock-room into something of a haven, with its candles, panic button and bible pages covering the walls. She was evidently delighted to see us, jumping up sharply the moment she saw our faces in the candlelight. Once she’d stubbed out her cigarette into the sandpit, we all took seats around her desk. Stephen shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. Sitting there, in that environment, was obviously bringing to mind all those spankings he’d received – although to be fair, I didn’t think I had been any harsher than normal with him this weekend.
Miss Campbell said she’d invited us to the school so that she could discuss her first impressions of Brangelina. She said she had read through every child’s school record before the beginning of term to fully acquaint herself with their academic progress and any ‘issues’ that might need to be addressed. Unfortunately, Brangelina’s file had been destroyed in the most recent school fire – the only one that had, apparently – and none of her previous teachers were available to provide their views, owing to a combination of early retirements and sudden, inexplicable, disfiguring accidents – so she felt it might be a good idea to get ‘a little background’ on Brangelina.
Stephen merely sat in silence throughout, eyeing the bookshelf with suspicion, but I said I would be happy to answer any questions about our little angel. Once Miss Campbell had recovered from a small coughing fit, she pulled out a typewritten sheet from her desk drawer and began.
She asked about a variety of things, from Brangelina’s birth date and blood group to more specific questions like whether she suffered from any allergies; for example, places of worship or religious artefacts?
All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable and useful meeting and I’d like to think Miss Campbell felt the same, although it was a little hard to tell as she had to dash off suddenly. I believe she said something about wanting to make it home before nightfall.
21 Wednesday
Poetry class this evening. The title of tonight’s session was ‘Does Poetry Always Have to Rhyme?’ Ms Wordsmith apologised for asking such a simplistic question but she clearly hadn’t accounted for the philistines who make up the rest of her class, as every single one of them contrived to get the answer wrong. It was left to me to put them right, as usual. They’re clearly not poets and they don’t know its.
22 Thursday
Oh dear. Just got a phone call from school. They’ve discovered that Brangelina’s been demanding dinner money with menaces. Apparently, the teachers are very concerned as they say their salary isn’t that great to begin with. They want me to go in for another meeting. Honestly, I spend more time in that place than my kids!
23 Friday
I was a little concerned to receive an email this morning from Mr deClarkson. He writes that in an attempt to improve the health of the pupils and thereby increase concentration levels in the classroom, the school will be introducing a new Five-a-Day scheme. I was horrified. Of course, I rang Mrs Winton immediately but she explained that Five-a-Day had something to do with fruit and vegetables and not what Stephen has been telling me all these years.
24 Saturday
Another weekend taxi job for Stephen. I’ve no idea where he’s driving to but I know what his sat nav’s like. According to Twitter, he’s visiting a rhino reserve in Ghana. I don’t know why I even bother looking at it. I’d be far better off occupying my mind with something more intellectually demanding. Maybe I’ll search for something. I’ll try Ask Wooster …
25 Sunday
I suppose I should be getting to bed – the kids will be up soon, wanting their breakfast, and I really can’t be bothered with all that. I just wish they wouldn’t make these websites so addictive. Online Happy Families wasn’t really my cup of tea – for some reason I just couldn’t get to grips with the concept – but online Ker-Plunk’s got me completely hooked. Just one more round and I’m in the big final to face Mickey ‘the Marbles’ Mulligan.
26 Monday
Still not convinced by this Five-a-Day lark so I’ve come up with my own alternative – Ednables. Each small pack contains everything a child requires to help them cope with the strains and stresses of the school day, as well as providing them with the energy they need – three Benson & Hedges, a can of Red Bull and a slice of my special recipe Short Attention Spam, to keep them focused over those short, intense concentration periods such as registration. I’ve already got a dozen orders from the other parents. It’s a pity I
’ve chosen to eschew the world of commerce in order to follow my muse; I’d make a killing.
27 Tuesday
Had quite a surprise when I went in to Brangelina’s school this morning. I was expecting to just see her teacher again, but I was shown to the headmaster’s office. I’ve not met Mr deClarkson face to face but he seemed quite a personable young man – almost dashing, you might say. He got on my good side straight away when he said that Brangelina was ‘clearly a very special little girl’ – I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
He said it had been brought to his attention that Brangelina was exhibiting ‘specific non-positive personality traits’ which appeared to be having ‘a detrimental effect on her in-school experience’, as well as that of her classmates, the teachers and the school tortoise. To that end, he said, he and a team of specialists – including the Head of Learning Support, a behavioural psychologist and the school exorcist – had drawn up an individual plan which contained certain targets he hoped Brangelina would be capable of attaining. Apparently, Brangelina was currently on level one of the plan – ‘working towards not being the Antichrist’.
I must say it makes such a pleasant change to talk to someone who really listens and cares about the important things. And has such nice wallpaper too.
28 Wednesday
Stephen spent all day in his shed again today. Goodness knows what he gets up to in there. I know for a fact his Scalextric won’t fit and his magazines are all under the bed. Whatever it is, he clearly finds it more interesting than spending time with me. Well, two can play at that game. I’m off to my poetry class. At last I have an interest befitting my intellect. Tonight, we’re going to be using the iambic pentameter. I just hope I don’t drop it.
29 Thursday
Had lunch with Mrs Norton and Mrs Winton. The Happy Carnivore’s closed while the owner assists Environmental Health with their enquiries, so we were forced to go instead to MacBeth’s – or as the proprietor Ms Bethany Hurley (a leading light in the local amateur dramatic scene) calls it, ‘the Scottish vegetarian café’. Mrs Winton and Mrs Norton had the Burnham Wood-smoked Soya and Couscous Calzone, while I satisfied myself with the Duncan Doughnut.
Mrs. Fry's Diary Page 10
