got bobbed blonde hair and grey eyes, and she has real classy clothes that you know didn’t come from Penney’s.
She smells great too – sort of flowery, but not too strong. And her nails are always perfectly done. (I’ve stopped biting mine again, by the way. We’re allowed nail varnish in this school, so I’m going to get a bottle of pearly pink, like Miss Purtill wears. It’s so feminine.)
So anyway, I’ve decided that Miss Purtill is just what Dad needs to get him away from Marjorie – which is why I’ve been mentioning her a lot at home (Miss Purtill obviously, not Marjorie). I’ve been saying what a great teacher she is too, so he’ll be going in to see her with a really positive attitude.
And next to art, English is my best subject – I’ve always got high marks in it. And everyone does well at social studies; it’s just that kind of subject, so Miss Purtill will be giving Dad a good report. The more Ithink about it, the more certain I am that Dad will ask her out to dinner or something, and that’ll be the end of him and Marjorie Baloney.
Now I’d better stop. I have an essay on the War of Independence to finish, and history is far from my best subject, so it’s going to take quite a while.
Oh by the way, I’m planning to cook Dad a birthday dinner on Friday night, which should be interesting, as I’ve never really cooked a full meal on my own before.
After dinner, Friday, 12th September.
I am NEVER cooking anything ever again. It was a total and utter
disaster
.
I decided to do Hawaiian Pork Chops, because they sounded dead easy – just chops with pineapple rings sitting on top of them. Except that I bought pineapple pieces instead of rings by mistake, so I tried to join the pieces together to make circles, which was very messy and not all that successful. The chops got a bit burnt too, while I was trying to make swans out of the serviettes. I covered the black parts with pineapple pieces, but it didn’t make them taste any better.
Dad was great. He said it all tasted wonderful, and he ate every bit of his chop, even the fat, which I thought was really nice of him. He ate some of the rice too, even though it was extremely salty because I thought ‘tsp’ meant tablespoon instead of teaspoon.
Dad sure drank loads of water.
At least the dessert was OK – baked apples in the microwave with a dollop of Ben & Jerry’s on top. You can’t really go wrong with dessert as long as Ben & Jerry’s is in there somewhere.
Dad and Marjorie Baloney are going out to dinner tomorrow night, and I suppose whatever they get will be a lot tastier than burnt pork chops with broken pineapple rings on top, but as Granny Daly would say, IT’S THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS.
Marjorie gave Dad a silver photo frame for his birthday, which I thought showed very little imagination. I was going to suggest that he put a photo of the family in there – meaning one of him, Mam and me – but then I decided it would be more mature just to ignore it. He hasn’t put anything into it yet anyway, which is a big relief.
I can’t wait till he meets Miss Purtill.
I’m still pretending not to see Marjorie across the street now, although she always waves over at me. She doesn’t even notice that I’m ignoring her. Some people are so unobservant.
Half past six, Tuesday, beginning of October.
Bumble is auditioning for the part of Danny in
Grease
– that’s the Christmas show the Comp is putting on. I’ve offered to help him with his lines, but so far he hasn’t asked me. Imagine I never knew Bumble could sing. Actually I can’t imagine him hip-hopping to ‘Summer Loving’, but I do hope he gets the part – it would be cool to see him onstage at Christmas.
I’m not sure how I feel about Christmas this year. Everything is bound to remind Dad and me of Mam, since she was here for all the other ones. And we always used to hang the decorations on the tree together – it was kind of a family tradition.
We’d wait
She smells great too – sort of flowery, but not too strong. And her nails are always perfectly done. (I’ve stopped biting mine again, by the way. We’re allowed nail varnish in this school, so I’m going to get a bottle of pearly pink, like Miss Purtill wears. It’s so feminine.)
So anyway, I’ve decided that Miss Purtill is just what Dad needs to get him away from Marjorie – which is why I’ve been mentioning her a lot at home (Miss Purtill obviously, not Marjorie). I’ve been saying what a great teacher she is too, so he’ll be going in to see her with a really positive attitude.
And next to art, English is my best subject – I’ve always got high marks in it. And everyone does well at social studies; it’s just that kind of subject, so Miss Purtill will be giving Dad a good report. The more Ithink about it, the more certain I am that Dad will ask her out to dinner or something, and that’ll be the end of him and Marjorie Baloney.
Now I’d better stop. I have an essay on the War of Independence to finish, and history is far from my best subject, so it’s going to take quite a while.
Oh by the way, I’m planning to cook Dad a birthday dinner on Friday night, which should be interesting, as I’ve never really cooked a full meal on my own before.
After dinner, Friday, 12th September.
I am NEVER cooking anything ever again. It was a total and utter
disaster
.
I decided to do Hawaiian Pork Chops, because they sounded dead easy – just chops with pineapple rings sitting on top of them. Except that I bought pineapple pieces instead of rings by mistake, so I tried to join the pieces together to make circles, which was very messy and not all that successful. The chops got a bit burnt too, while I was trying to make swans out of the serviettes. I covered the black parts with pineapple pieces, but it didn’t make them taste any better.
Dad was great. He said it all tasted wonderful, and he ate every bit of his chop, even the fat, which I thought was really nice of him. He ate some of the rice too, even though it was extremely salty because I thought ‘tsp’ meant tablespoon instead of teaspoon.
Dad sure drank loads of water.
At least the dessert was OK – baked apples in the microwave with a dollop of Ben & Jerry’s on top. You can’t really go wrong with dessert as long as Ben & Jerry’s is in there somewhere.
Dad and Marjorie Baloney are going out to dinner tomorrow night, and I suppose whatever they get will be a lot tastier than burnt pork chops with broken pineapple rings on top, but as Granny Daly would say, IT’S THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS.
Marjorie gave Dad a silver photo frame for his birthday, which I thought showed very little imagination. I was going to suggest that he put a photo of the family in there – meaning one of him, Mam and me – but then I decided it would be more mature just to ignore it. He hasn’t put anything into it yet anyway, which is a big relief.
I can’t wait till he meets Miss Purtill.
I’m still pretending not to see Marjorie across the street now, although she always waves over at me. She doesn’t even notice that I’m ignoring her. Some people are so unobservant.
Half past six, Tuesday, beginning of October.
Bumble is auditioning for the part of Danny in
Grease
– that’s the Christmas show the Comp is putting on. I’ve offered to help him with his lines, but so far he hasn’t asked me. Imagine I never knew Bumble could sing. Actually I can’t imagine him hip-hopping to ‘Summer Loving’, but I do hope he gets the part – it would be cool to see him onstage at Christmas.
I’m not sure how I feel about Christmas this year. Everything is bound to remind Dad and me of Mam, since she was here for all the other ones. And we always used to hang the decorations on the tree together – it was kind of a family tradition.
We’d wait
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