11 AM. My father got his redundancy cheque today. He did cowboy whoops up and down the hall. He has asked Doreen Slater to go out with him to celebrate. Guess who Maxwell’s baby sitter is going to be? Yes, dear diary, you guessed right! It is I!
11 PM. Maxwell has only just gone to sleep, Pandora rang up at nine-thirty and asked how I was doing. I couldn’t hear her properly because Maxwell was screaming so loudly. Pandora said I should try putting vodka in some hot milk and forcing it down his vile throat. I have just done it. And it worked. He is not a bad kid when he is asleep.
Full Moon
My precious love leaves these shores tomorrow. I am going to the airport to see her off. I hope her plane won’t suffer from metal fatigue. I have just checked the world map to see where Tunisia is, and I am most relieved to see that Pandora won’t have to fly through the Bermuda triangle.
If anything happened to my love I would never smile again.
I have bought her a book to read during the flight. It is called Crash!, by a bloke called William Golden-stein, III. It is very good on what to do if the worst happens.
Pandora read the Crash! book in the coach on the way to the airport. When her flight was called she had slight hysterics and her father had to carry her up the steps. I waved to the plane until it had retreated into a large cloud, then I sadly got on a coach and came back home. How I will get through the next fortnight I don’t know. Goodnight, my Tunisian beauty.
Fifth after Trinity
Stayed in bed and looked at Tunisia on the map.
Not had a postcard from my love yet.
Bert came round this morning. He said that Tunisia is full of hazards.
Why haven’t I had a postcard yet? What can have happened?
Asked our postman about communications between Tunisia and England. He said that they were ‘diabolical’; he said that the Tunisian GPO depends on camels.
Moon’s Last Quarter
Went to see Mr Singh. He said that Tunisia is very unhygienic. Everybody but me seems to be familiar with Tunisia!
PANDORA! PANDORA! PANDORA!
She will be back in sixdays.
Sixth after Trinity
Went for tea at grandma’s. I was sad and withdrawn because of Pandora’s sojourn in Tunisia. Grandmaasked if I was constipated. I nearly said something, but what’s the use of trying to explain love to a woman of seventy-six who thinks the word is obscene?
A camel postcard! It said:
Dearest,
Economic conditions here are quite dreadful. I was going to buy you a present but instead I gave all my money to a beggar. You have such a generous heart Adrian that I feel sure you will understand. All my love into infinity.
Fancy giving my present money to a filthy, idle beggar! Even our postman was disgusted.
It’s a wonder I have the strength to hold my pen! I have been on the go all day with preparations for the Royal Wedding street party. Mrs O’Leary came over and asked if I would help with the bunting. I said ‘I feel it is my patriotic duty’. Mrs O’Leary said that if I climbed the ladder she would pass the bunting upto me. I was all right for the first four or five rungs but then I made the mistake of looking down and I had a vertigo attack, so Mrs O’Leary did all the climbing. I couldn’t help noticing Mrs O’Leary’s knickers. They are surprisingly sexy for someone who goes to church every day and twice on Sundays. Black lace! With red-satin ribbons! I got the feeling that Mrs O’Leary knew that I was looking at her knickers because she asked me to call her Caitlin. I was glad when Mr O’Leary came to take over from me. Mr and Mrs Singh have hung a huge Union Jack out of their front bedroom window. Bert told me that it was one he stole when he was in the army.
Our house is letting the street down. All my father has done is pin a Charles and Diana tea towel to the front door.
My father and I watched the Royal Wedding firework display on television. All I can say is that I tried to enjoy it but failed. My father said it was one way of burning money. He is still bitter about being out of work.
I hope the Prince remembers to remove the price ticket off the bottom of his shoes; my father didn’t at his wedding. Everyone in the church read the ticket. It said: ‘91/2 reject, 10 shillings’.
ROYAL WEDDING DAY!!!!!
How proud I am to be English!
Foreigners must be as sick as pigs!
We truly lead the world when it comes to pageantry! I must admit to having tears in my eyes when I saw all the cockneys who had stood since dawn, cheering heartily all the rich, well-dressed, famous people going by in carriages and Rolls-Royces.
Grandma and Bert Baxter came to our house to watch the wedding because we have got a twenty-four-inch colour. They got on all right at first but then Bert remembered he was a communist and started saying anti-royalist things like ‘the idle rich’ and ‘parasites’, so grandma sent him back to the Singhs’ colour portable.
Prince Charles looked quite handsome in spite of his ears. His brother is dead good-looking; it’s a shame they couldn’t have swapped heads just for the day. Lady Diana melted my heartstrings in her dirty white dress. She even helped an old man up the aisle. I thought it was very kind of her considering it was her wedding day. Loads of dead famous people were there. Nancy Reagan, Spike Milligan, Mark Phillips, etc., etc. The Queen looked a bit jealous. I expect it was because people weren’t looking at her for a change.
The Prince had remembered to take the price ticket off his shoes. So that was one worry off my mind.
When the Prince and Di exchanged rings my grandma started to cry. She hadn’t brought her handkerchief so I went upstairs to get the spare toilet roll. When I came downstairs they were married. So I missed the Historic moment of their marriage!
I made a cup of tea during all the boring musical interval, but I was back in time to see that Kiwi woman singing. She has certainly got a good pair of lungs on her.
Grandma and I were just settling down to watch the happy couple’s triumphant ride back to the palace when there was a loud banging on the front door. We ignored it so my father was forced to get out of bed and open the door. Bert and Mr and Mrs Singh and all the little Singhs came in asking for sanctuary. Their telly had broken down! My grandma tightened her lips, she is not keen on black, brown, yellow, Irish, Jewish or foreign people. My father let them all in, then took grandma home in the car. The Singhs and Bert gathered round the television talking in Hindi.