was OK. I had to sit beside someone because it was quite full, so I picked a quiet-looking girl with the same colour hair as Mam, and then I pretended to be really interested in my new science book for the whole journey. She must have thought I was a right swot, ha ha.
Chloe Nelligan was in the yard. She came straight up to me when I walked off the bus, and boy was I glad to see her. I hardly even noticed the garlic breath. She looked just as scared as I felt. We chatted until the bell rang – she was in the Isle of Man for the whole month of July, staying with cousins – and then we were brought into the hall where the principal met us and gave us a talk, and after that we were split into groups and shown around the school.
The art room is brilliant. Imagine, a room especiallyfor painting. I can’t wait to get in there. We’ve double art on Thursdays, hurrah. Wonder what the teacher’s like – we didn’t get to meet her because she was teaching another class, but she looked OK.
We’ve got a form teacher, which means she’ll be sort of like our minder – if we’ve got any problems we can go to her. Her name’s Mrs Keogh, and she seems really nice and friendly. And there are two sixth-year prefects in charge of our class too, like we used to look after the Junior Infants sometimes in primary.
Some of the sixth years look like proper grown-ups. Imagine I’ll be like that in five years’ time. It’s kind of scary and kind of exciting at the same time.
When I got home from school there was a letter from San Francisco waiting for me, which turned out to be a Good Luck card from Mam with a $50 note inside it. I really miss her. It seems like forever since we met.
Bumble was late, as usual, but it was because he was signing up for the after-school soccer club. He says the Comp is brilliant. They have their own swimming pool, which I’m dead jealous about. He’s in the same class as Chris Thompson (remember the one with the girly voice?) and Terry McNamara, who’s still going out with Catherine Eggleston. She’s going to the Comp too, but she was put into a different class. The dunces’ one probably, ha ha.
Anyway, I think secondary school is going to be OK after all.
Wonder how many euros I’ll get for $50. There’s a really cool top in River Island that I might try on tomorrow.
Twenty to eight, Tuesday, 9th September.
Tomorrow is Dad’s birthday. He’ll be thirty-six, I think. I was going to get him a bottle of the aftershave he always uses, when I realised that it would make him smell nice for Marjorie Baloney, so I didn’t. He’s getting a book token now, which is really far more useful.
I’m sure he’d love to read a book, if the newspaper didn’t take him so long every day. He’ll have plenty of time for reading during the Christmas holidays, when he’s off work.
Can you believe that he’s still meeting Marjorie? Even though I’m pretty sure they’re just friends, it’s still a bit embarrassing, at their age. I’m not sure how old Marjorie is, but I’m willing to bet she’s at least thirty-six . Probably a lot more. I bet that’s why she dyes her hair, to disguise the grey.
Mam did not have one single bit of grey – that was definitely NOT the reason
she
coloured her hair. AndMam’s looked really natural anyway, not a bit fake.
I haven’t seen Bumble since the first day of school, but we’ve been on the phone a lot. At least, I’ve been ringing him a lot – he isn’t great at phoning, which I suppose is typical of boys. He says he really likes the Comp. He says they get lots of homework, especially science, but he’s good at that, so he doesn’t really mind.
It’s kind of cool to have different teachers for every subject. A lot better than having to look at Santa all day long, with his wonky eyes and red-haired ears. We have a lovely teacher for English and social studies called Miss Purtill. She’s youngish, only about twenty-three or four I’d say, and she’s
Chloe Nelligan was in the yard. She came straight up to me when I walked off the bus, and boy was I glad to see her. I hardly even noticed the garlic breath. She looked just as scared as I felt. We chatted until the bell rang – she was in the Isle of Man for the whole month of July, staying with cousins – and then we were brought into the hall where the principal met us and gave us a talk, and after that we were split into groups and shown around the school.
The art room is brilliant. Imagine, a room especiallyfor painting. I can’t wait to get in there. We’ve double art on Thursdays, hurrah. Wonder what the teacher’s like – we didn’t get to meet her because she was teaching another class, but she looked OK.
We’ve got a form teacher, which means she’ll be sort of like our minder – if we’ve got any problems we can go to her. Her name’s Mrs Keogh, and she seems really nice and friendly. And there are two sixth-year prefects in charge of our class too, like we used to look after the Junior Infants sometimes in primary.
Some of the sixth years look like proper grown-ups. Imagine I’ll be like that in five years’ time. It’s kind of scary and kind of exciting at the same time.
When I got home from school there was a letter from San Francisco waiting for me, which turned out to be a Good Luck card from Mam with a $50 note inside it. I really miss her. It seems like forever since we met.
Bumble was late, as usual, but it was because he was signing up for the after-school soccer club. He says the Comp is brilliant. They have their own swimming pool, which I’m dead jealous about. He’s in the same class as Chris Thompson (remember the one with the girly voice?) and Terry McNamara, who’s still going out with Catherine Eggleston. She’s going to the Comp too, but she was put into a different class. The dunces’ one probably, ha ha.
Anyway, I think secondary school is going to be OK after all.
Wonder how many euros I’ll get for $50. There’s a really cool top in River Island that I might try on tomorrow.
Twenty to eight, Tuesday, 9th September.
Tomorrow is Dad’s birthday. He’ll be thirty-six, I think. I was going to get him a bottle of the aftershave he always uses, when I realised that it would make him smell nice for Marjorie Baloney, so I didn’t. He’s getting a book token now, which is really far more useful.
I’m sure he’d love to read a book, if the newspaper didn’t take him so long every day. He’ll have plenty of time for reading during the Christmas holidays, when he’s off work.
Can you believe that he’s still meeting Marjorie? Even though I’m pretty sure they’re just friends, it’s still a bit embarrassing, at their age. I’m not sure how old Marjorie is, but I’m willing to bet she’s at least thirty-six . Probably a lot more. I bet that’s why she dyes her hair, to disguise the grey.
Mam did not have one single bit of grey – that was definitely NOT the reason
she
coloured her hair. AndMam’s looked really natural anyway, not a bit fake.
I haven’t seen Bumble since the first day of school, but we’ve been on the phone a lot. At least, I’ve been ringing him a lot – he isn’t great at phoning, which I suppose is typical of boys. He says he really likes the Comp. He says they get lots of homework, especially science, but he’s good at that, so he doesn’t really mind.
It’s kind of cool to have different teachers for every subject. A lot better than having to look at Santa all day long, with his wonky eyes and red-haired ears. We have a lovely teacher for English and social studies called Miss Purtill. She’s youngish, only about twenty-three or four I’d say, and she’s
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