Bad Smells

Just got back from swimming. Bloody exhausted. Absolutely no fun at all. Have decided I might do cross-country next term. Ralph swears by it. When I say cross-country I of course mean heading out of town to a remote pub and getting tanked up on beers and smoking til the point of debilitating nausea. Don’t know why I didn’t think about switching years ago. My quest for a swimmers’ body has resulted in little more than broad shoulders and wrinkly hands. Not that I’m going to have much time for sports from next term. Can’t believe it’s something horrendous like six months til I’ll be sitting in the assembly hall taking my A-level exams. I’m bound to do bloody well of course. I’ll be the first person in my family to do A-levels. Can’t believe I come from such a bunch of thickos.

Need to head into town now. Want to buy a new shirt for tonight. Something that Lindsay Joyner will find irresistible. Ralph reckons we should phone a bomb threat into Chez Marc. Classic idea! Ruining Abby MacKenzie’s night would make my week! Really ought to get some decent aftershave too. Mother packed me off with a bottle of something God awful called Mandate. I think it’s Boots own brand. Shamefully common. When I get round to it I’ll stick it in one of the junior’s lockers and then organise a massive piss-take. Mandate – for Christ’s sake..!

Toby’s being a total bastard about being back in the boarding house before 11 tonight. Just cos he’s not going out he has to take it out on the rest of us. How he became head of house is beyond me. He’s such a bloody square. What sort of respect is he going to demand when the most adventurous thing he’s even done is wear brown socks instead of grey.

Shoe Poo

I think I might have to disown my sister. She is now not coming down this weekend, which means no last minute driving practice. Basically if I fail my test on Monday it’s all her fault. I can’t believe she has chosen her stupid bloody boyfriend’s mother’s birthday over me. That relationship will end in tatters as they always do and then she’ll be left with no boyfriend and no brother. She’ll be sorry. God, I can’t believe we’re related. What a bitch.

Yesterday afternoon was a CLASSIC. I had a bit of a work to do for economics final period so I signed up to do textiles for my afternoon activity. Figured I could sit in the corner pretending to sketch some elaborate fabric design while I was actually finishing my essay. Anyway Mrs Livingston was about to go spastic at me when Luke Myers walked in. Wouldn’t have been a significant distraction if he hadn’t had dog shit all over his shoes. He’s such a retard he hadn’t noticed that he was treading it all over the printed fabrics that were laid out on the floor drying off. Everyone was in bloody hysterics except Luke who cried for Christ’s sake! Even Livingston couldn’t suppress a little smile. She’s SO the fittest teacher here by the way. God knows what she sees in her primordial dwarf husband. Maybe he’s got a massive schlong. What a hideous thought.. Anyway, she disbanded the class after that so we were free to go back to our studies where I was able to finish my work – RESULT! I couldn’t have planned it better myself.

Matron tried to bust me for bunking off when she found me in my study. Like it’s any of her concern anyway. She reeked of fags again, the old crone. Can’t think why she doesn’t like me. I’m so bloody nice to her..

Cardamom

We’re going to the posh Indian restaurant on Saturday night. No Lindsay Joyner but Zoe Hall’s going and she’s not too shabby so might do for a reserve if we don’t track down Joyner on the night. I’m not that keen on Indian food and Ralph knows that, bloody knob. They always put nasty surprises in like cardamom pods. Biting into one of those is like eating your grandmother’s hand soap and really should be avoided at all costs. Bloody foreigners.. Abby MacKenzie’s going to Chez Marc with her lot. How the fuck did that happen?

George totally dissed Rosie after assembly this morning. He was walking with Becky and basically completely blanked Rosie when she tried to start up a conversation. He’s playing a dangerous game. There’s no way all that shit’s not going to come out in the wash. Hopefully on Saturday night in the JCR. CLASSIC!

I heard Colin Weston crying in his study last night. He’s next door to me and was obviously trying to make sure someone heard him. There was no way I was going to go in there and see him though. That would be SO homo. Thought about telling Matron but then just decided to turn up Pink Floyd on my headphones and play dumb. Must be hard for him but I’m buggered if I’m going to risk looking like a mincer just to make him feel better. He really shouldn’t be here at all. If Mother was about to pop her clogs I’d be making the most of it and taking some time out to get as much sympathy as possible. Some people just don’t have a bloody clue..

Speaking of Mother, I’d better try and give Sal a call. She’s promised to come down this weekend and let me drive her car. My test is on arsing Monday morning. Starting to seriously brick it now..

Chinese Horror

Am still reeling from the shock of catching Li-Hin masturbating in the communal showers last night, the dirty bastard. What the bloody hell was he thinking?? At least I now know that Chinese blokes have tiny knobs. He didn’t even look bothered when I saw him. He just stood there with a bizarre half smile on his face. Maybe it’s normal behaviour in Hong Kong. Of course I went straight to Henry and told him so it can be put in the house notes at the end of term. Hopefully he’ll feel suitably shamed when the whole school knows about it.

Something has to be done about the state of the breakfasts here. The tea in the urn was stewed to buggery by the time I got there at 7:25. It’s a bloody joke. And as for the scrambled eggs; Christ knows what they make it from but it’s definitely not eggs. By the time first break came this morning my stomach was making some damn weird noises. Luckily Susie Blackwell was up for making all the lads some toast. She’s a good girl, shame she’s such a bloody heifer or I might try and go there. That and the fact that she’s from a complete povvo family. They can’t afford the boarding fees so she commutes 60 miles a day. Must be perfectly ghastly for her. She said she might have a party in the Christmas hols as her folks are going up North or something awful. I stopped listening after a while. She does witter on but a party might be quite a good laugh. Her house would end up getting royally trashed but that’s her look-out. Not that it’s probably that nice anyway.

Must go and get a supper leave update from Ralph now. Hope he gets us a decent restaurant booking. If we’re in the fucking Beefeater again I’ll kill him.

Short Hair

Hargreaves came into my study at 7:15 this morning - bloody weirdo. He wanted to tell me that my haircut was "inappropriate" and that I really should think about doing something about it. I asked him exactly what he had in mind. Perhaps a wig? He didn't see the funny side and just shook his head in a world weary manner and sort of hissed. I'm not quite sure whether that is an end to the matter or whether he really does expect me to invent some way of making my hair grow back extremely quickly. He really is an oddball of the highest order. Having said that, he's a damn sight better than Bodger Rogerson, the previous housemaster. He was more of a lush than Mother and his wife used to cry at the slightest provocation. It also turned out that he was stealing money from the house petty cash so he had to go.

Anyway, the Spanish test wasn't a complete disaster. I shan't know the score for while but I'm pretty confident I knew what I was doing. I was also encouraged by the look of abject horror on Roger Myerson's face when he turned over his paper. He'd clearly done even less preparation than me. Don't care if I come top of the class, just as long as I'm not at the bottom I'll be pleased enough.

Ralph's organising a supper leave this weekend. Should be a bloody good laugh if we manage to get everyone together who we want. I mentioned that he could invite Lindsay Joyner but he just laughed. He reckons I haven't got a hope with her but I'm damned if I'm not even going to bloody try. If she's not there for supper I can always track her down in the JCR afterwards and take advantage of her inebriated state - EXCELLENT!

Be Kind

So apparently Mark C won’t be back at school until the new year!! As predicted his mum went apeshit when the police told her they’d found coke in her son’s bag and she’s flown him out to a Christian retreat in Arizona to “heal himself” – BRILLIANT! Poor guy though. He’ll probably be a complete head case the rest of his life after a couple of months out there. Must find out whose coke it actually was. They must be on a serious guilt trip right now.

One hour and thirty minutes til the Spanish test. Might as well just accept the fact that I’m going to make a complete balls-up of the whole thing. We’re supposed to be filling in our uni application forms in a couple of weeks’ time. Christ, I don’t even know what I want to study let alone where I want to go. It’s all very well for the complete squares like Toby and Jim who’ve been mentally decorating their Oxford digs for five years. I’m having to come to terms with the fact that I might have to go somewhere less than remarkable like Bristol or Durham. Or Exeter, God forbid. Oh the shame… I always thought I was gifted..

Hargreaves took us upper sixths into his flat last night and told us that Colin Weston’s mum’s got cancer and we’re going to have to be nice to him from now on. I mean I feel sorry for him of course but who the Hell are we going to pick on now?? Apparently she could be dead by Christmas. He’ll be an orphan then. His dad dropped dead on the golf course the summer before last. Oh well, at least he’ll get shit loads of inheritance AND special consideration when they mark his A-level papers. Lucky bastard..

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..