The Diary of a Nobody

Being the modern day record of Charles Pooter VI -
direct descendant of the 19th Century original

Thursday, December 31, 2009

New Year’s Eve. I got a strange letter from Mr Mutlar:

Dear Charles,

I’ve been trying to sort something out – namely who’s in charge in my own home. Is it me, or is it your son Lupin? I’ve tried not to be biased, but on balance I’ve decided that actually it’s me. In which case, I don’t want him round here again. I’m sorry, because it means I’ll miss out on the company of one of the most modest, unassuming, well-mannered young men I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

I didn’t want the year to end unhappily, so I didn’t mention the letter to Carrie or Lupin.

There was a really thick fog. Lupin decided he’d go out all the same, but promised he’d be back to see the new year in. It’s something of a custom with us. At quarter to, there was no sign of him, so I got out a new bottle of whisky. Carrie said it tasted like brandy. I knew it was whisky, for definite, told her so, and said that was the end of it. Carrie – obviously irritated because Lupin hadn’t shown up – said it wasn’t the end of it, because it was brandy, and said she’d lay a fiver on it. She said it must have been own-brand stuff which had been labelled wrong, or something. We had a stupid argument. Next thing, we discovered it was a quarter past twelve, and for the first time since we’d been married, we’d not toasted the new year in. Lupin got in after two, claiming he’d got lost in the fog.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Lupin spent the whole day round at the Mutlars. He seemed pretty up-beat in the evening, so I said “I’m really glad to see you’re so happy Lupin”. He replied, “Daisy’s fantastic, but her dad’s an idiot, and I had to point a few things out to him. He’s really stingy with the drinks, turns the lights out the minute you leave a room, won’t turn the central heating on, and buys everything in Lidl. He bangs on about carbon emissions and minding the pennies all the time. I had to tell him not to be such a tight-arse”. I said, “Lupin, you’re young. I hope you won’t end up regretting it”.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

I had a really vivid dream last night. I woke up, and when I went back to sleep, I had it all over again. In the dream, Frank Mutlar was telling his sister that he’d sent me the Christmas card, and he’d slapped me on the head. As luck would have it, at breakfast time Lupin was looking at an annotated script he’d got from Frank.

I asked him to pass it over, so that I could take a look at the handwriting. I put it next to the envelope the card had come in. The writing looked similar, despite the attempt at disguise. I passed them to Carrie. She started to laugh. I asked her what was so funny, and she said the card wasn’t addressed to me at all. It was to “L.Pooter”, not “C.Pooter”. Lupin looked at it and said “Oh yeah, it’s for me”. I said “You don’t normally receive such unpleasant cards, do you?" He said, “Sure. And I send plenty too”.

In the evening, Gowing came by and said he’d had a great time last night. I mentioned to him about having been slapped on the head. He burst out laughing and said, “Oh, it was your head was it? I knew I’d accidentally hit something, but I thought it was the wall”. I told him I felt hurt, in both senses of the term.

Monday, December 28, 2009

Lupin came down to breakfast and said “Frank and Daisy are still coming. It’d be nice for them to see Gowing and Cummings this evening”. I was pleased with him for doing this. Carrie said “Thanks for telling me. I can use up some of the turkey my mother gave me”. She said she’d make some mince pies and get some clotted cream.

Since Lupin was in a good mood, I took him aside and asked if he had some problem with Gowing or Cummings. He said, “Not that I know of. I think Cummings looks a bit of a twat with his Pringle sweaters. As for Gowing’s taste in cardigans – well, he looks like he should be in a residential home”.

I said (cleverly) “I think you’ll find a man is more than the sum of his knitwear”. Lupin, laughing, said “Yeah, but what kind of a nit wears stuff like that?”

It was quite a happy meal. Daisy was pleasant. At the table, though, she started rolling up bits of bread and said “Hey, can anyone make animals out of bread?” and moulded some into the shape of a giraffe. I thought it was bad manners, but didn’t say anything. Daisy and Lupin started throwing bits of bread at each other, Frank joined in, and – unforgiveably – so did Cummings and Gowing. Then they started chucking whole chunks of stick-loaf around, and a crust hit me on the forehead. I said “Steady on” and Frank jumped up and shouted “Yabba dabba doo”.

I hadn’t a clue what he meant, but they all cracked up, and went on with their bread battle. Gowing grabbed some rocket leaves off a plate, and threw them right in my face. I gave him a really sharp look and he said, “Don’t try looking angry. It doesn’t work. Not with a load of lettuce on your head”. I got up from the table and told them to pack it in. Frank shouted “Time gentlemen please” and turned out the lights. I was feeling my way towards the light switch, when I felt a sharp slap on the back of my head. I said, “Who did that?" No one said anything. I asked again. No result. I turned the lights back on. Everyone was chatting and laughing, so I didn’t make anything more of it. Later I said to Carrie, “I bet you whoever sent that rude Christmas card was here tonight”.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

I told Lupin that Gowing and Cummings would be coming over tomorrow evening. I was hoping he’d want to stay in and have a laugh with them. But he said, “Cancel that. I’ve asked Daisy and Frank over”. I said I wasn’t going to cancel it. He said “OK, I’ll text her and tell her it’s off”.

Carrie had been listening, and was annoyed. She had a go at Lupin, saying “Any reason why you don’t want Daisy meeting your dad’s friends? Aren’t they good enough for her? Or perhaps, equally possible, she’s not good enough for them?" Lupin looked shocked, and said nothing. When he left the room, I gave Carrie a kiss, by way of approval.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

I didn’t get much sleep last night. I never do in a strange bed. I had a bit of heartburn (hardly surprising at this time of year). We came home in the evening. Lupin got back late. He said he’d had a great time, and added “I’m fit as a fiddle. Almost as good as a stradivarius. Awesome”. I’ve given up trying to work out what the hell he’s talking about half the time.

Friday, December 25, 2009

CHRISTMAS DAY

We drove down to Carrie’s mother’s. The countryside was looking nice, though the roads were wet and muddy. We ate at lunch-time, ten of us, and reminisced about the old days. If everyone’s mother-in-law was as pleasant and uninterfering as mine, the world would be a happier place, I’m sure. We gave her a toast, and I made a very good speech.

I drew it to a close by saying “At a time like this, friends, family and acquaintances are all well disposed towards each other. Love and friendship are uppermost in our minds. Those who’ve fallen out, should kiss and make up. Those who’ve not fallen out … well, they can kiss as well!”

Both Carrie and her mother had tears in their eyes at this, which I took as a compliment. Very flattering. An old friend of Carrie’s mother, John Panzy Smith, made a funny speech, and finished up by saying we should do as I’d suggested. He walked round the table and kissed the ladies. I didn’t mind at all. But then a young chap called Moss (I’d not met him before) who’d hardly said a thing during the meal, suddenly jumped up, holding a piece of mistletoe, and said “Wey hey! I’m going to get a slice of the action!” and kissed all the women. On the mouth. And a little too long, I’d say.

People took it as a joke. We all laughed. I thought he’d gone a bit too far. I mentioned it to Carrie later, but she said, “Come on. He’s not much more than a boy”. I said he was pretty familiar for a boy. She said, “I’m sure he’ll turn into a very nice young man”.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

I’m not particularly flush, but I’d willingly give fifty quid to anyone who could tell me who sent me the rude Christmas card I got this morning. I don’t insult people. Why should they insult me? The worst thing about it is, I’ve ended up suspecting my friends. The hand-writing on the envelope slopes backwards (obviously disguised). I don’t reckon Gowing or Cummings would have done it. Lupin said he didn’t know anything about it, and I believe him, although I don’t like the way he laughed at the card. Franching wouldn’t lower himself, and neither would the Mutlars. Perhaps it was Michael Pitt, the self-appointed court jester down at the office. Anya? Rudy? (I don’t reckon it was Anya – the writing’s far too neat).

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

I didn’t exchange one word with Lupin this morning, but in the evening he seemed to be in high spirits. I asked him where he was planning to spend Christmas day. He said, “Probably round the Mutlars’ place”.

I was astonished. I said, “What? Round the Mutlars? After you and Daisy broke off your engagement?”

Lupin said, “Who said we broke it off?”

I said, “Well, we got the distinct impression ….”

Lupin interrupted “Well, whatever, it‘s back on - so there!”

Monday, December 21, 2009

Most of the cards I’d got had dirty finger marks on them. Lupin, (who seems to have become a bit unscrupulous since he started working with this hedge fund), told me it’d be a good idea to get some small labels, write inflated prices on them, and stick them on the back of the card so’s people would think we’d spent a lot more on them than we actually had. Bizarre.

Lupin was very down in the dumps in the evening. I told him that behind the clouds, the sun was shining. He said, “Yeah, whatever. It never shines on me”. I said, “Lupin. You’ve got to stop fretting about Daisy Mutlar. Forget her. Look on it as a lucky escape. She’s far too odd”. He got up and said, “Don’t you dare slag her off. She’s worth more than all your mates put together. Especially that freak Barry Perkupp”. Faced with this, I stood up, and walked out in dignified silence, but caught my foot on the rug.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

I went down to a Clinton’s card shop. It was packed with people elbowing each other to get at the shelves. They were picking up cards, taking a quick look, then stuffing them back. I said to one of the girls at the till that she must get fed up with people being so careless. Just then, my coat caught on a revolving stand with some really expensive novelty cards on it, and knocked the whole thing over. Cards went everywhere, people trod on them, it was pandemonium. The manager was called. He started picking them up, and said to one of the assistants “They’re damaged. Put them over there in the discount section”. This was clearly directed at me. As a result, I felt duty bound to buy some of them at full price.

I had to get a lot more cards, and pay a lot more, than I’d planned. Unfortunately, I didn’t look at them all properly, and when I got home I found one which had a picture of Father Christmas dropping his trousers on the front. Inside it said “wishing you a crappy Christmas”, there was a picture of a pile of poo, and it made a farting sound. I ripped it up and threw it away. Carrie said the problem with having a busier social life these days was that we ended up having to send out loads more cards. About two dozen, this year.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Got the annual phone call inviting us over to Carrie’s mother’s for Christmas – something we always look forward to. Lupin said he wouldn’t be going. I was very surprised, and told him I was disappointed. Lupin then let rip. “I hate family get-togethers at Christmas. They’re dismal. Someone says “This time last year, Uncle James was with us. So sad he’s passed away” and everyone goes all weepy. Then someone else says “Hard to believe, but it was only two years ago that Aunt Liz was sitting over there, in the corner”. Cue more snivelling. Then some doom-monger goes “Hmm, and whose turn will it be next, I wonder?" More waterworks. Then we stuff ourselves with far too much food and drink and watch Strictly Come Dancing with Brucie. To cap it all, we find there’ve been thirteen of us at the table. So, it’s bad luck all round, and here’s to a happy new year”.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Yesterday I was feeling reflective. Today I was trying to look ahead, but all I could see was a load of clouds on the horizon. The Daisy Mutlar business is making Lupin an absolute pain. He won’t say exactly why they’ve split up. Obviously, she’s done something he doesn’t approve of, but if we try to sympathise, he gets all tetchy and says he won’t hear a word said against her. What are we supposed to do? I’m also disappointed that neither Carrie nor Lupin have any interest in my diary.

I mentioned it at breakfast today. I said “What I’d thought was if anything ever happened to me, my diary would give you both some really happy memories. Quite apart from the chance of earning off it if it was published in book form”.

Carrie and Lupin burst out laughing. Carrie immediately apologised. She said “I don’t mean to be rude, my love, but honestly I don’t think people would be interested in it. No publisher would want to take it on”.

I replied “I’m sure it’s just as interesting as some of the rubbish celebrities like that dreadful woman Katie Price get published. Anyway, it’s the diary that makes the man: where would Samuel Pepys have been without his?"

Carrie said I was quite a philosopher. Lupin, on the other hand, sneered, “Get it published on one long thin sheet of paper. That way, people can wipe their arses with it”.

Right. At the end of the year – I’m stopping this.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Nearly Christmas. I don’t know why, but it makes me reflect back on things. The last few weeks of my diary haven’t been very interesting. Lupin’s break up with Daisy seems to have transformed him overnight, and it’s become a bit of a strain being with Carrie. Last Saturday, she was really down, so I thought I’d cheer her up by reading her some extracts from my diary. She walked out in the middle, without saying a word. When she came back in, I said “Darling, was it boring for you?"

She replied, “Sorry, I don’t think I was listening. I had to ring Anya. She put a red t-shirt in with a white wash, and now Lupin’s white shirts have gone pink, so he won’t wear them”.

I said “It’s all about Lupin. Lupin, Lupin, Lupin. Yesterday, there was a button missing from one of my cuffs, but did I make a song and dance about it?”

Carrie just said, “If you had any sense of style, you’d wear cufflinks”.

Something else occurs to me: Gowing doesn’t call much, and Cummings never does now. I’m worried they don’t get on with Lupin.

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