Menthols

Just got back to the boarding house. Hardly anyone else is here yet but I wanted to get back early to try and cram for tomorrow’s Spanish test. Matron reeked of menthol cigarettes when I bundled through the front door – I don’t think she was expecting anyone back so early. She might as well just fess up and deal with the shame. Suppose she’s got to put on a pretence that she’s anti-smoking but Christ, who’s she trying to kid??

God it’s so bloody excellent having my own study at last. Can’t believe I was considering sharing with Colin Weston, just cos no one else would. Realised that if I had I wouldn’t have ever got rid of him and that would have been seriously uncool. Especially as he has previous form as a borderline shirtlifter. Sends shivers down the bloody spine..

Sal turned up late for lunch today; big surprise.. By the time she arrived Mother was three sheets to the wind and Dad and Grannie B had gone out for a walk. That left Grannie H and me to keep an eye on the roast. Not exactly ideal as I’ve only just mastered spaghetti and Grannie H believes that all meat should be cooked until it’s ash to make sure it’s free of bacteria. Luckily Sal’s a bit of a whiz and sorted it all out while making sure that Mother downed two pints of water and was vaguely conscious by the time Dad came back. She’s promised to come down and visit in a couple of weekends and explain what’s going on. Sounds ominous..

Oh, I can hear Johnny Houseman’s squealing baby sister. Ought to go and say hi, though his mother gives me the creeps to be honest. Whenever she leaves she always kisses Johnny on the lips just that bit too long. Seriously grossworthy..