Everybody Wants To Be A Cat

11-06-2014 Wednesday

Mum wants to buy a cat. Has she lost her mind!? We’ve got a dog. A small one, but a dog nonetheless. What if they can’t stand each other? What if I’m allergic? What if the dog is allergic? Cats are aliens to me. I have no idea how to deal with them. They are from a totally different planet. Why would she want to have a cat anyways? Hairs! Hairs everywhere. I told Mum this was just a phase she was going through. ‘This, too, shall pass,’ I said to her. Dad tried to talk her out of it by saying he’d like a new car, too. I didn’t see how that was going to help our case, but Dad thought there was some kind of logic to it. Mum didn’t budge.
It’s not that I have anything against having a cat as a pet; it’s just that I don’t see why. There are two kinds of people in this world: dog lovers and all the others. I belong to the dog lovers and I see no reason for any cat to set foot in castle Didymus. I don’t think, however, that Dad and I have got any say in this. Mum is more or less in charge in this house, even though Dad thinks he is in charge and his only claim to fame is that he brings home the bacon. Mum’s reply to this is that she always does all the shopping and has never seen Dad come home with any bacon. Unless you count that one time he brought home a friend who looked like the male counterpart of Miss Piggy. He even sounded like her.
Mum asked me if I knew a good name for the cat. All I could come up with was,’ Sushi, Pizza, Anchovy, Pork Chop, and Salad. I even said that I could understand if she didn’t want to name the cat after food, that is why I also   She didn’t like the names at all and then turned to Dad. He said he’d like to give the cat an Amerindian name, like ‘Standing Bull’ or ‘Sitting Bear’. Mum said she’d come up with a name of her own. I think it would be best for her and the cat if she did. The cat might just get a decent name. As you will understand I named the dog.
So, if I you don’t hear from me all of a sudden, I may just have fled to another country or at least to another house. I heard Mr Bent’s got a spare bed, and I might just be needing it. Which reminds me that I have go round his place this week, because I haven’t heard or seen him for quite some time and I don’t want the newspapers to read something like,’ Dead Guy Found Rotting After 8 Weeks – Neighbours Never Noticed’.

See me tomorrow. 

When You’re Alone (And Life Is Making You Lonely)

07-06-2014 Saturday

Thanks everybody for your lovely and inspirational words, they really meant a lot to me. You’ve made a teenager with a broken heart smile and realise that there are so many beautiful people out there and that worse things happen at sea. Evelyn doesn’t seem to be sad, so why should I!? I am not the only one nor the first one suffering from a broken heart and this may well be a good lesson in life for me.
Mum is taking me shopping today to cheer me up. It is supposed to be a sunny day and a good day for going out to shop till we drop. Dad is not coming. At breakfast Mum said to him quite scornfully, ‘You are not coming, today, you’re staying in to make yourself useful for a change. Here’s a list of household chores that need to be done. And I expect them to be done by the time we get home.’ Dad looked at her the way Cheddar often does after it’s been told off for doing something wrong. He knows perfectly well that his remark yesterday was below the belt and Mum really showed him who’s boss.
I’m getting ready to leave, Mum said she wanted to get there early and start off having tea somewhere downtown. That’s when she started singing Petula Clark’s ‘Downtown’. For some reason it’s very difficult to resist singing along to this song so I joined in. Dad ran for cover. I’m sure that had he not done so, he would have joined in as well; probably against his will, but he would have done so nonetheless. Now, thanks to Mum, that song has been stuck in my head all morning.
Dad walked in to apologise for his remark yesterday. I’m glad I was decent. Parents always have a way of walking in while you are just getting dressed or undressed. Luckily for the both of us I was just packing my bag with some food and drinks for the road. Anyways, I think Mum put him up to it. I think it was either apologise to me or do all the household chores she told him to do. He still won’t be coming along with us, though. First of all Dad is not the shopping kind of guy. Secondly, he has to stay home with Cheddar, and last but not least: Mum is still kind of angry with him.

That’s it, I’m off. Have a great day everybody and thank you very, very much. See me tomorrow. 

Board Games and Coffee Stains

02-06-2014 Monday 

Thank God I’m back. I had to stay at Grandma’s during the weekend and I got back this afternoon and lordy, lordy am I glad to be home. How did Grandpa manage to live with this woman? Ohw, that’s right, he didn’t. Dad says Grandpa died because he didn’t want the agony of living with Grandma any longer. Dad’s a (bad four letter word).
I had forgotten to bring my pyjamas so Grandma made me sleep in one of her nightdresses. At times like these I am just so happy that she can’t handle a camera and does not know how the Internet works. She’s one of those people who goes to a computer shop and says things like,’ I’d like one Internet, please’ and then she’d add,’ It’s ‘taking out’ so I’d like some portable wifis with that, too, please.’ Anyways, it was one of those old smelly nightdresses, totally worn, a little torn and it was covered in weird looking brown-ish, stains and a couple of white-ish ones. Don’t ask, please … don’t ask and don’t even think about it.
Before I went away Evelyn asked me where Grandma lived, I told her that it wasn’t a matter of ‘where’; it was a matter of ‘when’. Grandma still thinks she’s living in the 70s; sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. Two of those things are not things you’d want to know about your own granny. She showed me some pictures of herself in the 70s. She was young, smoking, drinking and surrounded by men. Basically nothing’s has changed over all those years, but for her age. Really, I have no idea why it is that she is still surrounded by so many men and that there are these weird looking stains on her nightdress.
I’m not going to go into too many details about the weekend at the moment, there’s just one thing I’d like to say now. Grandma is one of the biggest cheaters in the world when it comes to playing board games. Never in my life have I seen anybody so bad at losing that she’s willing to cheat at anything, everything! Not only that, she also mixes up all the rules and I have no idea whether she does it on purpose or whether it’s one of those things that come with old age. She kept saying ‘check mate’ while playing a game of checkers. When we switched to chess (I thought I was bad at this game) she kept saying it was her turn to throw the dice and she wanted to buy Kings Cross Station and Euston Road. Halfway through the game I noticed that she was trying to put a bishop of hers back on the board. She had somehow managed to take it from me when she was handing me a biscuit. Never take biscuits from old lady ladies, kids!
Grandma read me a bedtime story, which was kind of cute. Well, the intention was cute. She picked up the book from the desk in her room. I believe she thought it was the bible, and although it had a black cover, it was far from the bible. I think Grandma had thrown away the dust cover and I think she had done so for a reason. The book was not meant for my ears and I am not going to say anything about what was in the book, suffice to say that this was a lot more informative than biology class. I didn’t tell this to my parents; Mum would probably kill Grandma over this. Dad would probably laugh his head off and go round Grandma’s to ask for the title of the book. Dirty old man. So, this was my weekend in short. Hope you had a nice one, maybe even nicer one. See me tomorrow. 


30-05-2014 Friday

I’ve decided to start working on the sequel to my Missing Pages. The Missing Pages is being read by some people to see if there’s anything that needs changing. I liked writing it so much that I decided to work on a second. I might even like it so much that I decide writing a third and a fourth. Who knows!? Even if they don’t get published ever, it’s still good fun and good practise.
I think the hardest thing to do is to find a good title. I’ve written some lyrics before, and I always get stuck on a title. Whereas sometimes it’s okay to name the song after the chorus, I think that with certain lyrics it’s just a sign of a lack of creativity. Sometimes a title should really add something. Maybe it should be a question answered in the lyrics, or maybe it should be a one-word summary.
How do other writers do this? Do they come up with the title afterwards? It would be more logical. Only afterwards you know what the story is about. Then again, coming up with one beforehand might just boost creativity a little or give you a hint as what to write about. When I write I start off with some sort of vague idea and things get clearer on my way to the end of what I was writing about. I don’t really start with a plan or some incredibly well thought through concept. This kind of means that I am somewhat of a delete freak.
Although I really love writing, I know that it is time consuming and sometimes really frustrating. Sometimes I just sit behind my computer, staring at the screen, wanting to write, but nothing comes out. What a weird machine that brain is. Wanting to write, but not giving anything to write about. Sometimes I wonder if the wires in my brain are correctly connected and working properly, because at times it seems as if different parts of my brains just don’t communicate. One part goes,

‘Hey, let’s sit down and write! I really feel like writing!’

And then another part, totally confused, goes,

‘What are we sitting down for?’

And yet another part, who has absolutely no clue what the other parts were going on about,

‘Oh, look, a screen and some buttons. I wonder which game we’re going to play.’

There’s absolutely no communication whatsoever between various brain cells. I hope I’m not the only one who experiences this every now and again. I won’t be here this weekend, because I’m going to have a sleep over at Grandma’s as my parents want to have a weekend all to themselves … lucky me.

See me after the weekend. 

Everybody Wants To Be Naked And Famous

27-05-2014 Tuesday

This is Arthur speaking to you live from Fort Didymus. The enemy has retreated to her own house and is nowhere to be seen. I think we’ve won this round. We’ll have to see what’s going to happen next. Maybe she’s in there plotting a new attack as I speak. Who knows!? She could be planning a way to overthrow the world and I, Brave Sir Didymus am the only one standing in between her and the world. Okay, me, and Mum, and Dad, and Cheddar
Let me clarify this a little. I told you that I was locked up in my room, because of all the homework and tests we’ve got coming and I do want to pass this year. As I have been quite occupied with WordPress, or rather I was quite occupied with it, I didn’t spend as much time on school as I should have. It’s not that things are going terribly wrong; it’s just that I want to make sure I know stuff so that I don’t get into trouble next year. You know what teachers are like, they are always saying things like,’ Ohw, this is what you studied last year, so let’s not talk about it now and move on to more difficult matters.’ And then those matters require that you know everything you studied the year before.
Being locked up in my room, sitting behind my desk, means that I see everything that Unice does if she has her curtains open – which is hardly ever. Today was one of those days she decided to open the curtains. I have experienced why it is that she keeps the curtains clothes and why I rather see she kept them closed for ever and ever. I think I have found out why she pops her head through the curtains every now and again. It’s not only to see what everybody is doing; it’s to check if nobody’s watching her. I think, after so many weeks, she thought the coast was clear. Unice likes to walk around the house butt-naked!
So there I was, trying my best to concentrate on my maths when all of a sudden I see Unice dance around the house in the altogether holding a feather duster in her hand pretending to clean. It was impossible for me to not look even though it hurt my eyes. I believe she was singing, too. The whole thing ended quite abruptly when she saw me sitting behind my desk with open mouth and big glassy eyes. Never have I seen anybody close curtains so quickly. About ten minutes later I saw her rushing out of her house, staring at me and making a beeline for our door. This meant trouble.
She rang the bell and even the way she rang it you could feel her anger. I have no idea why she should be angry, because I don’t think I did anything wrong here. I was just doing my homework when she put on this show. I heard her scream and shout, and rant and rave, and I believe the whole neighbourhood now knows Unice dances around the house naked. For weeks she’s been trying to keep this a secret, acting all weird with her curtains and all, and in not even one minute she notifies the whole street like this. Mum tried her best to calm Unice down. I opened the door a little bit to see if I could hear anything, but Mum spoke to soft and Unice spoke to fast. After some five or ten minutes Unice walked back to her house, looking over her shoulder and pointing her finger at me. I have no idea what she meant by that, so I pointed back at her. Then she pretended she was coming back and I quickly closed the curtains – I wasn’t as fast as Unice was, though.
Mum came into my room to ask me what had happened. I told her my side of the story and I think she believed me. I have no idea what Unice told Mum. At the end Mum said it might be best to keep my curtains closed or maybe move my desk someplace else. The only problem is, there is no other convenient place for my desk. It’s not like I’ve got a room the size of a planet. I can’t complain, but there’s not much room to move things like beds, desks or cupboards. I decided to keep my curtains closed and to just look through them every fifteen minutes or so. In about a month I will open them, dance around my room naked with an egg whisk in my hand and make sure Unice sees me.

See me tomorrow.  

Don’t Talk To Me About Life

26-05-2014 Monday

Today I was confronted with a story that really got me thinking. It was a hypothetical situation and I had to make a decision. It’s still bugging me and I can’t really say what I would do in such a situation. Well, I can, but you know what it’s like. When you’re watching the news and you hear about a robbery and you see somebody pointing a gun at a storeowner or an employee. People always say things like,’ Yeah, I would have done this and that (usually accompanied by some bad language and violent movements and gestures), if I were him.’ While in real life they’d probably do something totally different: sit in a corner and cry. Anyways, I was told this story (well, more or less, I’m telling you what I remembered).
There you are, in a hospital, when a fire breaks out. In one room there’s an old man attached to some machines and in the opposite room there are six teenagers who are also attached to some machines. They need those machines to stay alive and get well again. Due to the fire their lives are in danger. At this moment the fire is threatening the lives of the six teenagers and the old man is safe. By throwing a switch you can rescue the six teenagers but the old man will die in the fire. If you don’t throw the switch the six youngsters will die in the fire. What will you do?
Mr Owen brought this up during English class and we were supposed to discuss it in groups. Somebody once came up with the idea that teamwork would be a neat idea. ‘I am bored of teaching, you know what, I’ll just put them in group and let them figure things out themselves, that’ll teach ‘em,’ he/she must have thought. Well, I think it stinks. Teamwork irritates the (bad word) out of me. Also, for some reason each and every kid in class always says it ended up in the worst group. How can everybody be in the worst group? And the best part is that they always say things like,’ I’m in the worst group, because I am doing all the work and nobody else does anything!’ So, we’re all in the worst group and that’s only because we all seem to be working harder than the other group members.
Back to the story. Of course it’s a hypothetical situation. Still, it got me thinking. The old man has as much right to live as the six teenagers. Who am I to judge their lives? I know nothing about these people and there I am, deciding who gets to live and who gets to die. God has got a hell of a job and I figured that I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. In the end I also decided not to throw the switch. I figured that if the switch was like that, somebody put it that way for a reason and who am I to interfere with fate, karma, God’s plan, or just bad luck?
My group members nearly got into a fight over this, shouting and screaming their ideas and thoughts. Mr Owen had to jump in to keep two kids from hitting each other. Apparently one of them had a granddad who was in hospital and he wouldn’t want his grandpa to die and then one of the kids said something about being egoistic, egocentric and something about mothers. I think that’s when the kid snapped. I just sat back and enjoyed the show. Mr Owen jumped in and clamed them down. Then he asked for my opinion,’ Arthur, whose life or lives do you think we should save?’ I stared him deeply into his deep dark eyes and in a very monotone voice I said,’ Life? Don’t talk to me about life*.’ Which confused him a little. He shook his head and walked away.
Evelyn was in another group and they were dead silent. They were all staring at each other blankly, waiting for somebody to speak its mind. Mr Owen tried his best to get them to talk, but they all refused. In the end they started discussing the situation as if the old man was Mr Owen himself. They said in that case the decision would have been a lot easier. Luckily Mr Owen didn’t hear it. As you can see, teamwork is not only hell on earth for us kids; even teachers can’t deal with it. Luckily the year is nearly done. I’m looking forward to my holidays even though I have no idea what we’re going to do or where we’re going to go. Everybody who’s got big plans, please, raise your hand and see me tomorrow. 


*Marvin the Paranoid Android – the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. 

I’d Like One Google, Please!

21-05-2014 Wednesday

Gluestickmum reminded me of the fact that I am terrible at remembering names. I gave her the advice that I read in a book (or cheap ol’ magazine at the dentist). According to that article or book when we are confronted with new people we are so busy with introducing ourselves that we don’t pay a lot of attention to the other person’s name even though we think we do, our brains seem to think differently. Don’t ask me the details about this, because I am not a brainologist. Therefore we should always sort of repeat the other person’s name out loud. You could for instance check with the other person if you heard his/her name correctly, like ‘John, right?’ This will often help you remember the name. It helped me a little bit.
It also reminded me of the book that Darren Brown wrote (if you don’t know who he is, go check him out). In his book he talks about mnemonics. If I remember correctly these are ancient methods of remembering stuff in easy ways. For instance, let’s say you have to remember your grocery list. With all the gadgets we have nowadays, who needs his brains!? We’ve got external braindrives like mobile phones, tablets, and so on. But let’s just assume you would really have to memorize a grocery list.
According to these ancient methods described by Mr Brown all we have to do is visualize a room, walk through it and put all the items in certain spots in the room as you pass them. So you enter the room and the doorknob is a cucumber, on the left there’s a clothing peg with some bananas on it, you walk passed the couch and there’s a bag of crisps on it, etc. The only problem I had was that I always got lost in my room and the room – for some strange reason – always seemed to have changed by the time I got to the store. I don’t think Google maps will be able to solve this problem for me. Maybe if they had taught me this at primary school, it might have had a better chance of being successful. Why, if these things are really so great, aren’t they taught at schools? Our teachers give us these long lists of words to study, but often forget to teach us the different ways of doing this.
A lot of teachers nowadays think we’ve got an advantage to kids before the Internet era, because we can Google anything. Kids in those days had to travel miles and miles on a bike with no saddle to a library where they were to go look for the right book, that had the right information and this could take up hours and hours. I don’t know if Google is really much of an improvement. We are simply overwhelmed with websites full of information, but who tells us which website really has the correct information? And if we can’t spell correctly, we never find the correct website. Well, luckily Google has solved that problem mostly by giving us suggestions. But a simple search leads to tons of sites and I never know which one to choose. Wikipedia seems to be the most favourite site amongst my classmates. It’s like the secondary school bible that holds the answers to life, the universe, and everything.  That is if I have to believe my classmates. I’d rather read a good book.
Ohw, there’s one thing I really have to share here. Sometimes when we’re doing a project our teacher asks us to give a list of our sources. You wouldn’t believe how many of my classmates still think that Google is the source, the only source, and nothing but the source. No matter how often our teachers explain this, they can’t seem to come to terms with the fact that Google is a search engine and not the source of all information in the stupid project that they handed in. Imagine writing down in the source list ‘the library’. Facepalm!

See me tomorrow. 

Don’t Trust The Books (True Lies)

Tuesday 20-05-2014

After a whole lot of writing, reading, rewriting, rereading, and so on I’ve sent my work to my Dutch friend who is a teacher of English. He’s going to check it for and he’s got an ex-colleague who is also going to read it and he just told me that his ex-mother-in-law is British and also willing to proofread it. I’m on the top of the world (the Carpenters!).
Talking about being on top the world, while I was rereading my work I came across the story of Evelyn who in her first year at this school still believed the world was flat. Which got me thinking a little. Then I started looking it up and turned out there’s even a society called ‘The Flat Earth Society’. They still believe and try to find proof that this world is flat and that it’s some sort of conspiracy of government and the likes to trick us into believing the world is round. This society even has a map of a flat world (round like a record) in which the edges are more or less ice and snow. I found it quite inspiring and so I came up with some lyrics in which a group of people have sailed to the edge. 

Southern Pole of Cold

The world isn’t round
She is flat like a pancake
If you sail towards the edge
You are bound to fall off

The globes and the maps
They are obviously all fake
If you sail towards the end
You are bound to fall off

Bound to fall off

The scientists claim
That they know what they know
But we’re here near the end
And are about to fall off

I think we have found out
There’s a world down below
If we get any closer
We’re bound to fall off 

Bound to fall off 

Here Hell’s frozen over
There’s nothing here but ice
It’s the edge of the world
And we’re bound to fall off

Don’t trust the books now
They are filled with true lies
Behold the end of the world
And we are bound to fall off

Bound to fall off

One day I hope to be able to put some music to my lyrics. I’ve got some ideas, but they’re just not good enough yet. Who knows, maybe I’ll be a famous rock star one day. I won’t forget about you, you’ll be on the guest list and we’ll hang out backstage drinking expensive orange juice and eating expensive sandwiches. See me tomorrow.  

Short Shirts and Shorter Skirts

19-05-2014 Monday

You can tell summer is a coming just by the way everybody at school behaves. I’m not even going to go into the way people start dressing. Well, actually I am and I’ll do it now, just to get it out of my system. Is it me or are skirts and shirts getting smaller each year? Let’s make it absolutely clear that I am not interested in seeing each and every girl’s belly button. For your information, some girls would like to have shown their belly buttons, but they’re hidden under a couple of layers of belly rolls. Which, I can assure you, is not always a pretty sight to see. It’s also kind of silly that girls come to school wearing their short skirts and minipants, but all day long you see them pulling them down a little bit to cover a little more leg (actually I mean behind). If you didn’t want your butt to show, you shouldn’t have worn those hot pants to school. Sometimes I wonder if these girls come from poor families and that their parents bought those clothes years ago so they could grow into them, not knowing these girls would grow a little bigger than they had expected.
But … I wanted to talk about they way they act now that summer is just around the corner. What I find interesting is that boys and girls (in no particular order) who have been in a relationship for some time this year, suddenly end their relationships. Most of the time it’s just out of the blue; as if girls saying,’ You know, you’re cute and all, but summer’s a coming and there’ll be hotter guys at the beach that I would like to watch playing football in their swimming trunks.’ Of course they don’t say this to the guys they break up with. More or less the same thing goes for the guys. This basically means a lot of relationships falling apart, crying girls (and sometimes even boys), but I’m sure that some of them are tears of happiness, because secretly they’re already looking forward to whom they’re going to hang out with all summer.
And then, as you’ll understand, spring is in the air; blue skies, sun, flowers in bloom, birds chirping … new relationships start. For some reason that geeky guy you always thought was quite average suddenly looks incredibly handsome in his skinny jeans. The girl that looked so chubby in her winter outfit, suddenly looks mighty fine in her summer dress and the sun in her eyes. I think you can now see this endless circle, because next year, it’s going to be the same thing all over again. They’ll break up and find somebody else. I for one refuse to take part in this madness. Luckily for me Evelyn agrees with me on this.
Today we sat in the canteen together watching two couples break up together. They cried tears like you would not believe. One girl walked away crying and shouting things like,’ How could you! We were such a great team!’ Before you start saying ,’Aaaahw, that poor girl. How could he!? That (bad word).’ That same girl was seen kissing two other guys after school and I don’t mean a small pecker on the cheek. One of those guys was her ex-boyfriend’s best friend. Please note that I used the word ‘was’! I don’t want to have a best friend, because they always steal your girlfriend.
This is spring for you. Next year it will be the same thing, only the skirts and shirts will be shorter still. The year after same thing and at this rate in about five years girls will probably be coming to school in their undies. Think of all the industries that will go bankrupt. If we’re not doing it for the girls, let’s do it for the economy. Save this world by making girls wear proper shorts to school! I think I could run for president with ideas like these. See me tomorrow.  

Rope-String Guitar

18-05-2014 Sunday

The downside of not having been able to do my homework because of the computer cable is that I had to catch up with all of that work today. The year is coming to an end, teachers are cramming too much work in too little time and you know why!? They are always telling us we should learn to plan our homework, and what are they bad at themselves!? Right, planning stuff. So, the end of the year is near and suddenly they find out that they are actually behind on their schedule and that we will just have to work a little hard these last couple of weeks. They are running behind, so we have to work harder. What’s wrong with this world!?
I went round Mr Bent’s this afternoon. I hadn’t seen him for quite some time and I was stuck on my history homework and if there’s anybody in this whole wide street who knows anything about history it’s Mr Bent. True, Unice knows a lot about history, too, but I was not really interested in the dinosaur days and how she survived the meteor as one of the few species. No, I needed Mr Bent’s knowledge on the Dark Ages. I am ashamed to say that when I was in primary school I thought they called it the dark ages because the sun just didn’t come up for a long time. All those years I wondered what I would have done if I were to wake up one day, looked out of my window and found that the sun wasn’t there anymore.
Mr Bent’s house looked great. His girlfriend, Xemene, has really changed him for the better. He looks healthier and younger, too. His books are organised in a fashionable way, his knickknacks and bric-a-bracs from countries all over the world are put into glass displays and all. He even bought a new couch. Though I kind of miss the old one, even though there was absolutely no way of getting out of it again once you sat down. His new couch looks all modern and even smelled new a little. It did look a little like the old one. Mr Bent wanted the same brownish colour and more or less the same fabric and design. He likes change just as much as I do. It’s okay if you change things, just as long as it looks as much as possible like what it used to be.
He helped me out a lot. Okay, I’ll be honest. Mr Bent did my history homework while I was strumming on an old guitar he had lying about. He said that he once knew how to play and that he got sort of inspired when he heard I was learning to play the guitar. That’s when he started digging up some of his old guitars and this was the best one he could find. He said he had changed the strings just this morning and that it was supposed to be sounding right as rain. I couldn’t help noticing that the strings just sounded and felt like pieces of rope and no matter how I tried (it took me half an hour just to get it tuned properly) I just couldn’t make it sound like a real steel string. After Mr Bent had finished my homework, he picked up the guitar and played a song. It was terrible! We laughed really hard about it and called it a ‘rope-string guitar’. I told him could borrow mine while I was at school should he feel like playing.
For some reason his house – even now it’s clean and organised – feels much more like home than my own house. It’s as if his house just breathes and lives and makes you feel welcome whoever you are. Which is kind of weird, because up till his girlfriend came into his life he hardly ever had any visitors and he was quite the recluse. Xemene often comes to visit him and I believe that sometimes she even brings one or two of her friends. He says that Xemene was the best thing that has ever happened to him, aside from meeting me of course.
Most of my homework is finished, my computer cable is still in one piece and if I have to believe Dad my chances of not dying a virgin have gotten smaller. Mum slapped him when he made that remark, but Dad probably thinks it was worth it. I’m off to bed. Sleep tight everybody. See me tomorrow.