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 till Dad got home from work, and I’d do the low down ones and Mam would be in the middle and Dad would do the high bits, and at the end Dad would lift me up and I’d hang the star on top, and then Mam would make hot chocolate with marshmallows, and we’d play Pictionary while we drank it, and I’d win and Dad would come last. It was always the same, every year.
I can’t believe it’s almost a year since I’ve seen Mam. She hasn’t mentioned coming back to Ireland for Christmas – maybe she’s planning to surprise me.
And of course we won’t have Granny Daly either. She’s been coming to us every Christmas for years, since Grandad Daly died. Surely Mam would want to see her mother at Christmas.
I wish I could pluck up the courage to ask her if she’s coming home, but I can’t. It’s the only thing I can’t talk to her about.
Well, that and Marjorie, of course.
And the shoplifting.
And all the visits to Smelly Nelly’s office.
And the fact that Dad didn’t know I was e-mailing her.
Gee, I didn’t realise there were so many things that I don’t talk to Mam about.
Anyway, back to Christmas. Dad’s parents live in Australia. They emigrated years ago, before I was born, and they’ve only been back twice, both times in the spring. They never fly home at Christmas because it’s too crowded, and the fares are too high.
So it looks like it’ll be just Dad and me for Christmas dinner. I wonder which one of us will cook the turkey – or should I say burn the turkey. We’ll probably do it together, so we can blame each other when it’s a disaster.
It might surprise you to hear that I’ve got quite friendly with Chloe Nelligan at school. She’s actually not bad, I’ve discovered. Once you get used to the garlic breath, she’s quite funny and clever.
We’re in the same group for a science project, and she’s come up with some really good ideas. Imagine I was in her class for eight years and I never really noticed her. And I suppose she can’t help it if her mother or father, or whoever cooks the dinner in that house, puts garlic into everything.
I actually went over to her house the other night to work on the science project, and it was really weird to have Smelly Nelly bringing us milk and biscuits, like she was just a normal mother. I mean, of course she is a normal mother to Chloe, but I couldn’t help still thinking of her as a principal, and remembering all my visits to her office. Not that she mentioned them of course – she just treated me like any friend of Chloe’s and said she loved my hair, and told me that she’d always wanted curly hair when she was a girl.
It was a bit creepy really – and you know what else? I didn’t get any smell of garlic in the house, which was very weird, considering that they must use it by the bucketful. But Chloe’s OK.
Oh, and guess who I saw in town today – Chris Thompson. Remember him, cutest guy in sixth class? He looks just as nice as ever. I didn’t talk to him – he was across the road, so we just waved at each other. I’d forgotten what a gorgeous smile he has.
Well, time for some homework, I suppose. Can’t put it off forever. Only two weeks to the mid term break – not that I’m counting.