The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Aged 13 3/4 (Adrian Mole 1)

by Sue Townsend

  THURSDAY MAY 21ST

  Barry Kent duffed me up in the cloakroom today. He hung me on one of the coathooks. He called me a ‘coppers’ nark’ and other things too bad to write down. My grandma found out about the menacing (my father didn’t want her to know on account of her diabetes). She listened to it all then she put her hat on, thinned her lips and went out. She was gone one hour and seven minutes, she came in, took her coat off, fluffed her hair out, took £27.18 from the anti-mugger belt round her waist. She said, ‘He won’t bother you again, Adrian, but if he does, let me know.’ Then she got the tea ready. Pilchards, tomatoes and ginger cake. I bought her a box of diabetic chocolates from the chemist’s as a token of my esteem.

  FRIDAY MAY 22ND

  It is all round the school that an old lady of seventy-six frightened Barry Kent and his dad into returning my menaces money. Barry Kent daren’t show his face. His gang are electing a new leader.

  SATURDAY MAY 23RD

  Home again, the electricity has been reconnected. All the plants are dead. Red bills on the doormat.

  SUNDAY MAY 24TH

  Rogation Sunday

  I have decided to paint my room black; it is a colour I like. I can’t live a moment longer with Noddy wallpaper. At my age it is positively indecent to wake up to Big Ears and all the rest of the Toyland idiots running around the walls. My father says I can use any colour I like so long as I buy the paint and do it myself.

  MONDAY MAY 25TH

  I have decided to be a poet. My father said that there isn’t a suitable career structure for poets and no pensions and other boring things, but I am quite decided. He tried to interest me in becoming a computer operator, but I said, ‘I need to put my soul into my work and it is well known that computers haven’t got a soul.’ My father said, ‘The Americans are working on it.’ But I can’t wait that long.

  Bought two tins of black vinyl silk-finish paint and a half-inch brush. Started painting as soon as I got home from the DIY centre. Noddy keeps showing through the black paint. Looks like it’ll need two coats. Just my luck!

  TUESDAY MAY 26TH

  Moon’s Last Quarter

  Now put on two coats of black paint! Noddy still showing through! Black paw-marks over landing and stairs. Can’t get paint off hands. Hairs falling out of brush. Fed up with whole thing. Room looks dark and gloomy. Father hasn’t lifted a finger to help. Black paint everywhere.

  WEDNESDAY MAY 27TH

  Third coat. Slight improvement, only Noddy’s hat showing through now.

  THURSDAY MAY 28TH

  Ascension Day

  Went over Noddy’s hat with kid’s paintbrush and last of black paint, but bloody hat bells are still showing through!

  FRIDAY MAY 29TH

  Went over hat bells with black felt-tip pen, did sixty-nine tonight, only a hundred and twenty-four to go.

  SATURDAY MAY 30TH

  Finished last bell at 11.25 p.m. Know just how Rembrandt must have felt after painting the Sistine Chapel in Venice. 2 a.m. The paint is dry but it must have been faulty because it is all streaky, and here and there you can see Gollywog’s striped trousers and Mr Plod’s nose. Thank God the bloody bells don’t show through! My father has just been in to tell me to go to sleep, he said my room reminded him of a Salvador Dali painting. He said it was a surrealist nightmare, but he is only jealous because he has got yukky roses on his bedroom walls.

  SUNDAY MAY 31ST

  Sunday after Ascension

  I bought a joss stick from Mr Singh’s shop. I lit it in my room to try and get rid of the paint smell. My father came into my room and threw the joss stick out of the window, he said he ‘wouldn’t have me messing with drugs’! I tried to explain but my father was too angry to listen. I stayed in my room for a few hours but the black walls seemed to be closing in on me so I went to see Bert Baxter. Couldn’t make him hear, so I came home and watched religion on the television. Had tea, did Geography homework, went to bed. Dog won’t stay in room any more; it whimpers to be let out.

  MONDAY JUNE 1ST

  Bank Holiday in the Rep. of Ireland

  My father had a letter that made his face go white: he has been made redundant from his job! He will be on the dole! How can we live on the pittance that the government will give us? The dog will have to go! It costs thirty-five pence a day for dog food, not counting Winalot. I am now a single-parent child whose father is on the dole! Social Security will be buying my shoes!

  I didn’t go to school today, I rang the school secretary and told her that my father is mentally ill and needs looking after. She sounded dead worried and asked if he was violent. I said that he hadn’t shown any signs of being violent, but if he started I would call the doctor. I made my father lots of hot, sweet drinks for shock, he kept going on about electric storage heaters and saying that he would spill the beans to the media.

  He rang Doreen Slater up and she came round straightaway, she had a horrible little kid called Maxwell with her. It was quite a shock to see Doreen Slater for the first time. Why my father wanted to have carnal knowledge of her I can’t imagine. She is as thin as a stick insect. She has got no bust and no bum.

  She is just straight all the way up and down, including her nose and mouth and hair. She put her arms round my father as soon as she came into the house. Maxwell started to cry, the dog started to bark, so I went back to my black room and counted how many things were now showing through the paint: a hundred and seventeen!

  Doreen left at 1.30 p.m. to take Maxwell to playschool. She did some shopping for us then cooked a sloppy sort of meal made of spaghetti and cheese. She is a one-parent family; Maxwell was born out of wedlock. She told me about herself when we were washing up. She would be quite nice if she were a bit fatter.

  TUESDAY JUNE 2ND

  New Moon

  Doreen and Maxwell stayed the night. Maxwell was supposed to sleep on the sofa, but he cried so much that he ended up sleeping in the double bed between my father and Doreen, so my father was unable to extend his carnal knowledge of Doreen. He was as sick as a pig, but not as sick as Maxwell was. Ha! Ha! Ha!

  WEDNESDAY JUNE 3RD

  Went to school today, couldn’t concentrate, kept thinking about the stick insect. She has got lovely white teeth (straight of course). She made some jam tarts for when I came home from school. She is not stingy with the jam like some women are.

  My father is smoking and drinking heavily, but he has been made temporarily impotent according to Doreen. This is something I do not wish to know! Doreen talks to me as if I were another adult instead of her lover’s son aged fourteen and two months and one day.

  THURSDAY JUNE 4TH

  Doreen answered the phone to my mother first thing this morning. My mother asked to speak to me. She demanded to know what Doreen was doing in the house. I told her that my father was having a breakdown and that Doreen Slater was looking after him. I told her about his redundancy. I said he was drinking heavily, smoking too much and generally letting himself go. Then I went to school. I was feeling rebellious, so I wore red socks. It is strictly forbidden but I don’t care any more.

  FRIDAY JUNE 5TH

  Miss Sproxton spotted my red socks in assembly! The old bag reported me to pop-eyed Scruton. He had me in his office and gave me a lecture on the dangers of being a nonconformist. Then he sent me home to change into regulation black socks. My father was in bed when I got home; he was having his impotence cured. I watched Play School with Maxwell until he came downstairs. I told him about the sock saga.

  He instantly turned into a raving loonie! He phoned the school and dragged Scruton out of a caretakers’ strike-meeting. He kept shouting down the phone; he said, ‘My wife’s left me, I’ve been made redundant, I’m in charge of an idiot boy,’ – Maxwell, I presume – ‘and you’re victimizing my son because of the colour of his socks!’ Scruton said if I came to school in black socks everything would be forgotten but my father said I would wear whatever colour socks I liked. Scruton said he was anxious to mainta
in standards. My father said that the England World Cup team in 1966 did not wear black socks, nor did Sir Edmund Hillary in 1953. Scruton seemed to go quiet then. My father put the phone down. He said, ‘Round one to me.’

  This could well get into the papers: ‘Black socks row at school’. My mother might read about it and come home.

  SATURDAY JUNE 6TH

  Oh Joy! Oh Rapture! Pandora is organizing a sock protest! She came round to my house today! Yes! She actually stood on our front porch and told me that she admired the stand I was taking! I would have asked her in, but the house is in a squalid state so I didn’t. She is going round the school with a petition on Monday morning. She said I was a freedom fighter for the rights of the individual. She wants me to go round to her house tomorrow morning. A committee is being set up, and I am the principal speaker! She wanted to see the red socks but I told her they were in the wash.

  Doreen Slater and Maxwell went home today. My grandma is coming round tonight, so all traces of them have got to be wiped out.

  SUNDAY JUNE 7TH

  Whit Sunday

  Grandma found Maxwell’s dummy in my father’s bed. I lied and said that the dog must have brought it in off the street. It was a nasty moment. I am not a good liar, my face goes bright red and my grandma has got eyes like Superman’s, they seem to bore right through you. To divert her I told her about the red-sock row, but she said rules were made to be kept.

  Pandora and the committee were waiting for me in the big lounge of her house. Pandora is Chairperson, Nigel is Secretary and Pandora’s friend Claire Neilson is Treasurer. Craig Thomas and his brother Brett are just ordinary supporters. I am not allowed to hold high office because I am the victim.

  Pandora’s parents were in the wooden kitchen doing the Sunday Times crossword. They seem to get on quite well together.

  They brought a tray of coffee and health biscuits into the lounge for us. Pandora introduced me to her parents. They said they admired the stand that I was taking. They were both members of the Labour Party and they went on about the Tolpuddle Martyrs. They asked me if the fact that I had chosen to protest in red socks had any significance. I lied and said I had chosen red because it was a symbol of revolution, then I blushed revolutionary red. I am turning into quite a liar recently.

  Pandora’s mother said I could call her Tania. Surely that is a Russian name? Her father said I could call him Ivan. He is very nice, he gave me a book to read; it is called The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists. I haven’t looked through it yet but I’m quite interested in stamp collecting so I will read it tonight.

  Washed red socks, put them on radiator to dry ready for the morning.

  MONDAY JUNE 8TH

  Woke up, dressed, put red socks on before underpants or vest. Father stood at the door and wished me luck. Felt like a hero. Met Pandora and rest of committee at corner of our road; all of us were wearing red socks. Pandora’s were lurex. She has certainly got guts! We sang ‘We shall not be moved’ all the way to school. I felt a bit scared when we went through the gates but Pandora rallied us with shouts of encouragement.

  Pop-eyed Scruton must have been tipped off because he was waiting in the fourth-year cloakroom. He was standing very still with his arms folded, staring with poached egg eyes. He didn’t speak, he just nodded upstairs. All the red socks trooped upstairs. My heart was beating dead loud. He went silently into his office and sat at his desk and started tapping his teeth with a school pen. We just stood there.

  He smiled in a horrible way then rang the bell on his desk. His secretary came in, he said, ‘Sit down and take a letter, Mrs Claricoates.’ The letter was to our parents, it said:

  Dear Mr and Mrs …………….,

  It is my sad duty to inform you that your son/daughter has deliberately flaunted one of the rules of this school. I take an extremely serious view of this contravention. I am therefore suspending your son/daughter for a period of one week. Young people today often lack sufficient moral guidance in the home, therefore I feel that it is my duty to take a firm stand in my school. If you wish to discuss the matter further with me do not hesitate to ring my secretary for an appointment.

  Your faithfully,

  R. G. Scruton

  Headmaster

  Pandora started to say something about her O levels suffering but Scruton roared at her to shut up! Even Mrs Claricoates jumped. Scruton said that we could wait until the letters had been typed, duplicated and signed and then we had better ‘hot foot it out of school’. We waited outside Scruton’s office. Pandora was crying (because she was angry and frustrated, she said). I put my arm round her a bit. Mrs Claricoates gave us our letters. She smiled very kindly, it can’t be very easy working for a despot.

  We went round to Pandora’s house but it was locked, so I said everyone could come round to my house. It was quite tidy for once, apart from the dog hairs. My father raged about the letter. He is supposed to be a Conservative but he is not being very conservative at the moment.

  I can’t help wishing that I had worn black socks on Friday.

  TUESDAY JUNE 9TH

  Moon’s First Quarter

  My father saw Scruton today and told him that if he didn’t allow me back to school in whatever colour socks I like he would protest to his MP. Mr Scruton asked my father who his MP was. My father didn’t know.

  WEDNESDAY JUNE 10TH

  Pandora and I are in love! It is official! She told Claire Neilson, who told Nigel, who told me.

  I told Nigel to tell Claire to tell Pandora that I return her love. I am over the moon with joy and rapture. I can overlook the fact that Pandora smokes five Benson and Hedges a day and has her own lighter. When you are in love such things cease to matter.

  THURSDAY JUNE 11TH

  Spent all day with my love. Can’t write much, my hands are still trembling.

  FRIDAY JUNE 12TH

  Had a message from the school to say that Bert Baxter wanted to see me urgently. Went round with Pandora (we are inseparable). Bert is ill. He looked awful, Pandora made his bed up with clean sheets (she didn’t seem to mind the smell) and I phoned the doctor. I described Bert’s symptoms. Funny breathing, white face, sweating.

  We tried to clean the bedroom up a bit, Bert kept saying stupid things that didn’t make sense. Pandora said that he was delirious. She held his hand until the doctor came. Dr Patel was quite kind, he said that Bert needed oxygen. He gave me a number to ring for an ambulance, it seemed to take ages to come. I thought about how I had neglected Bert lately and I felt a real rat fink. The ambulancemen took Bert downstairs on a stretcher. They got stuck on the corner of the stairs and knocked a lot of empty beetroot jars over. Pandora and me cleared a path through the rubbish in the downstairs hall and they steered him through. He was wrapped in a big, fluffy red blanket before he went outside. Then they shut him up in the ambulance and he was sirened away. I had a big lump in my throat and my eyes were watering. It must have been caused by the dust.

  Bert’s house is very dusty.

  SATURDAY JUNE 13TH

  Bert is in intensive care, he can’t have visitors. I ring up every four hours to find out how he is. I pretend to be a relative. The nurses say things like ‘He is stable.’

  Sabre is staying with us. Our dog is staying at Grandma’s because it is scared of alsatians.

  I hope Bert doesn’t die. Apart from liking him, I have got nothing to wear to a funeral.

  Still madly in love with P.

  SUNDAY JUNE 14TH

  Trinity Sunday

  Went to see Bert, he has got tubes all over him. I took him a jar of beetroot for when he is better. The nurse put it in his locker. I took some ‘get well’ cards, one from Pandora and me, one from my grandma, one from my father and one from Sabre.

  Bert was asleep so I didn’t stay long.

  MONDAY JUNE 15TH

  The Red Sock Committee has voted to give way to Scruton for the time being. We wear red socks underneath our black socks. This makes our shoes tight but we don�
�t mind because a principle is involved.

  Bert has made a slight improvement. He is awake more. I’ll go round and see him tomorrow.

  TUESDAY JUNE 16TH

  Bert has only got a few tubes left inside him now. He was awake when I went into his room. He didn’t recognize me at first because I was wearing a mask and gown. He thought I was a doctor. He said, ‘Get these bleedin’ tubes out of my private parts, I ain’t an underground system.’ Then he saw it was me and asked how Sabre was. We had a long talk about Sabre’s behaviour problems, then the nurse came in and told me I had to go. Bert asked me to tell his daughters that he is on his death bed; he gave me half-a-crown for the phone calls! Two of them live in Australia! He said the numbers are written down in the back of his old army pay-book.

  My father says that half-a-crown is roughly worth twelve and a half pence. I am keeping the half-a-crown. It has a nice chunky feel about it and it will no doubt be a collector’s item one day.

  WEDNESDAY JUNE 17TH

  Full Moon

  Pandora and me searched Bert’s house looking for his army pay-book. Pandora found a pile of brown and cream postcards that were very indecent. They were signed ‘avec tout mon amour chéri, Lola’. I felt a bit funny after looking through them, so did Pandora. We exchanged our first really passionate kiss. I felt like doing a French kiss but I don’t know how it’s done so I had to settle for an ordinary English one.