Page 40 of How We Began

Damn it.

Lucky for me, I have hundreds of books of my own. I’ll need to be brave and enter what formally used to be the ‘shag-pit’ and gather up the books I need.

15th December

(9.23 a.m.)

I am bored. Bored. Bored. Bored.

I may have to read a history book.

(2.50 p.m.)

Did you know that in 1527… blah… blah… blah.

Oh God, is it possible to bore yourself to death with a book? I swear on my life, I keep reading the same paragraph and fall asleep at exactly the same point… every single time, without fail.

Maybe there is some subliminal message hidden in the text.

You will go to sleep. You will go to sleep, and you will fail your first term at university.

(3.20 p.m.)

Ah-ha! Just had a very clever idea. The History Channel must be a very useful place to learn historical facts. I’ll give that a go.

(10.30 p.m.)

Fuck. I’ve just woken up.

That didn’t work out at all the way I expected. I fell asleep on my pen and have now created a pool of blue ink on the sofa.

Great.

I’d better go and buy some Vanish. Tristan will wet his pants when he sees that.

16th December

Vanish doesn’t work. I’ve managed to dilute the colour of blue, but in doing so I’ve also spread it over most of the sofa.

Bugger.

My plan is to throw a blanket or something over it before Tristan sees it.

20th December

Tristan has gone, the bloody arse. Here I am, up and dressed and doing useful things (sort of), and he’s buggered off to Mum and Dad’s.

He claimed he was fed up with takeaways every night, and that he’s put on weight since living with me again. It seems our mutual inability to cook is a bit of a domestic problem. I wonder how we coped for all those years before? Oh, yes, now I remember. I was always at work being Dad’s Super Daughter, and he was always at the pub being Dad’s Embarrassing Good-for-Nothing Son.

Isn’t it funny how the tables turn?

It’s probably a good thing he left. He’s been looking at me rather strange as I’ve insisted on lying on my ‘special blanket,’ which I have artfully draped over the big blue blob on the sofa. Hopefully it’ll fade before he gets back. Or the housework fairies will come and magically remove it.

22nd December

Oh God! I have made a mistake, haven’t I? I’ve been re-reading my diary entries of the last few weeks and have realised one thing. I am a complete dick.

I’ve completely flipping overreacted and now there’s no taking it back. I’ve allowed my crazy green-eyed monster to bust out and take over. Now Ben has gone for Christmas, probably to a perfect family Christmas day, spent laughing and joking about the crazy girl he nearly made the mistake of having a relationship with.