The Diary of a Nobody
Being the modern day record of Charles
Pooter VI -
direct descendant of the 19th Century original
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Everyone’s up for the do tomorrow. Barry Perkupp sent an e-mail saying he was out for a meal somewhere in Kensington, but if he was able to get away, he’d come up for half an hour or so. Carrie spent half the day getting canapes and stuff ready, and said she was a bit jittery about the whole thing. We got in loads of crisps, dips, prawn crackers and mini-snacks (the usual kind of thing), and some pizza slices in case anyone was a bit more peckish. Gowing came round to ask if he needed to get dressed up for the occasion. Carrie said since Jim Franching and Barry Perkupp were coming, smart casual would probably be best.Gowing said “thanks, just needed to know, because my jacket’s a bit messy, and I’ll need to get it dry-cleaned”.
When he’d gone, Lupin came in and whinged about everything because he was worried about what Daisy might think. He thought the whole thing was a disaster waiting to happen, and knowing my friends’ sense of fashion, he’d not be surprised if Daisy mistook them for a load of local undertakers.
I lost my temper and said “Lupin, Daisy’s not the bloody Queen of England. I’d have thought you’d have more sense than to get involved with someone who’s almost old enough to be your mother. Get yourself sorted on the job front before you make any commitment to a woman who’ll want to dine out on your credit card – along with her brother, who looks like a total waster to me”.
Lupin didn’t take kindly to what I thought was fairly reasonable advice. He jumped up and shouted “Don’t you dare insult her. If you do, you’re insulting me, and I’ll clear off and I won’t come back. Understood?”
He went out and slammed the door behind him. But it was OK. He came back for supper and we watched TV together ’til midnight or so.
©MMIX KONSIGNIA. All rights reserved.
Why shouldn’t
I publish
my diary?
I often see memoirs by people I’ve never even heard of and I don’t see why my diary should be any less interesting, just because I’m not a ‘celebrity’. I only wish I’d started it when I was younger.
Charles Pooter
The Laurels, 32 Elmside,
Barleycorn Mead, Harrow on the Hill.
charles@charlespooter.com
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