Ham Fag

What an extremely dull day. Mr Wendell held me back at the end of Spanish. He said I wasn’t taking classes seriously enough. Bastard. Just cos I only got 53% in the test last week he’s already decided I want to fail my A-levels. What a bloody farce. I tried to explain that I was worried about the situation at home during half term. Think mother might be an alcoholic, blah blah.. I did my best to turn on the waterworks but couldn’t squeeze out any tears. Still, I think he bought it, though now I’m worried he’s going to tell Hargreaves and Hargreaves is going to speak to Dad. That would be a major shitter.

Apparently Sal called last night. I was in the TV room so didn’t get the message. Arsing lazy juniors only checked my study rather than looking for me throughout the whole boarding house. Standards are slipping. If I’d been that remiss when I was a junior I’d have been on milk fag for a week. I need to call her back anyway. Hopefully she can throw some light on what is actually going on at home. Something’s up, that’s for sure. Parentals haven’t even been in touch to find out about the driving test, though I’m in no rush to tell them..

Alex Dudley slipped on some parma ham at lunch. Now THAT was funny. Ed Humphreys had sent him to the kitchens (Alex Dudley will do whatever Ed tells him – it’s quite weird) to re-fill the orange squash. Dudley failed to notice that Annabelle Grimes had overloaded her plate (again) and half of it had fallen on the floor so he went arse over tit in front of the masters’ table, covering himself in squash to boot. The whole room erupted and Dudley went puce with shame. What a knob! CLASSIC!