Monday, First Lesson, Chemistry

Monday 13^th September

Dear diary (it was £4.99),

This morning I ate a bowl of choke-o-pops.  I’ve called them that ever since my aunty choked on some last year.  I also call Artichokes, ‘Aunty-chokes’ after she choked on one last Thursday.  I really wish she’d stop trying to swallow things whole.

They'd look like this if they existed probably, but probably not as well

I’d only just set foot inside the school gates when the bell went.  I don’t know where it goes, but every day someone seems to say, “There goes the bell”. I’ve never seen it go anywhere personally.

Whilst trudging across the school yard towards my house-block I was trying to remember what I’d just been thinking about when I saw two first years dressed as Terry Wogan practicing skateboarding.  I thought this a little strange because the sponsored ‘Terry Wogan Skate-a-thon’ isn’t for a few months yet and everyone knows big Archie Parting is going to win anyway – he was on telly the other day shouting things at people. 

I reached my house-block via a tunnel dug by some fifth years in 1964 (there’s an old grubby book in the library about it[1]) – I actually thought of something really profound when I was in the tunnel about walls having no boundaries when you can dig tunnels but it doesn’t sound as clever right now.  No wonder I failed English in the second year and had to repeat.  Is it ironic that I failed English because I couldn’t answer the question on irony?  Dunno.  Anyway, I opened the door to my tutor room tentatively, hoping I could sneak in unnoticed.  Mr Chipolata saw me immediately, being as he sits directly behind the door and the handle hit him in the back of the head.  He asked me why I was late. I told him I’d been standing near the craft block.  He said that was no excuse and gave me detention.  Next time I’m going to say I was standing near the biology pond; honestly.

This isn't the biology pond, nor is it a 2 week vacation in Chester-le-Street

The bell went for first lesson, Chemistry.  I trudged out of the tutor room with Bazzy, Hazzy and Shazzy.  We traipsed over the yard then plodded into the main building, over the pile of first years that had been knocked out by big Angus McMassive – he stinks.  We had to stand outside the classroom in a line to wait for the teacher Mr Bladam to turn up. He’s always drunk in the staff room so Gary had to go and get him. Gary likes trains. 

Domas the Dank Engine

When I reached my desk, I set my bag on the floor and got my Chemistry notebook out – it’s blue and has stickers of people engaged in various wrestling moves on the front.  One man is receiving a DDT from someone in a half-nelson.  Mr Bladam was obviously getting withdrawal symptoms from the lack of alcohol (he hadn’t had any for three minutes) as he had to leave the room, returning to find the room stinking of gas and a first year in the corner trying to extinguish his blazer (ironically).  The first year had only entered the room to hand his homework in. We learned that some blue stuff added to some red stuff makes this like white foamy stuff that went all over Grippa’s hand and made it all red, melty and sore.  We suggested he leave it like that until the afternoon when we had Biology and we could look at what a real human hand skeleton looks like, but he declined and went to see the school nurse instead.  We got home work – learn the periodic table.  I already know it; my mum’s got one in the dining room.

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[1] It’s called ‘Everything you wanted to know about tunnels but were afraid to ask’ by Doug Attunnell