Adrian Mole: The Cappuccino Years by Sue Townsend

Author:Sue Townsend [Townsend, Sue]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Suspense
ISBN: 9781569472477
Publisher: Soho Press
Published: 2000-08-01T00:00:00+00:00

Autumn

Monday September 1st

This household has cried enough to fill several rivers, a canal and several lakes. My mother keeps saying, 'Those boys,' and dissolving into yet more tears. None of us have moved away from the television. I have even managed to watch Michael Cole, Mohammed Al-Fayed's spokesman, slither across the screen without leaving the room.

Rosie came back home and threw herself into my mother's arms. They cried together until I thought they would need medical rehydration.

Tuesday September 2nd

Ivan Braithwaite, who is a republican, made a major faux pas today. He said, in front of my mother, 'I can't help feeling that this hysterical outpouring of grief is way over the top.'

She started to cry again and said, 'We're not just crying for her, we're crying for the sadness in our own lives. I'm crying for the hurt I've caused George.'

I said, to try and comfort her, 'Mum, don't worry about Dad. He and Tania are getting on amazingly well'

This made my mother cry even more. She asked Ivan if he would take her to Kensington Palace so that she could lay some flowers at the gates and then go to St James's Palace to pay her respects. Ivan said he was not prepared to queue up for eight hours to watch my mother sign her name in a book. My mother said, 'I'm doing more than sign my name. Adrian's going to write me a poem about Princess Di, aren't vou, Aidy?'

What could I say? The poor woman is grief-stricken. I agreed to write the poem and accompany her to the various shrines. Rosie preferred to watch the Diana-mourning on television. She said it was 'more real'.

Wednesday September 3rd

We Sellotaped my poem on to the trunk of a tree in Kensington Gardens this morning.

Oh Diana!

Oh Diana! Was a song, of my mother's youth. Sung by Paul Anka, who was small and white of tooth.

The refrain, Oh Diana! Beats inside Mum's head. A blank, a blank, a doo-dah that her Diana is dead.

I told my mother that I needed more time to finish the poem properly, but she refused to wait. She was afraid that we would miss the space on the tree. There was a queue of poets behind us. On the way back up the M1, my mother said, 'I'm going to make something of my life.' I advised her to drop Ivan Braith-waite. She said, 'No, Ivan's going to help me. He's already offered.'

Saw the crisp-eating boy walking past our house as I was pulling the curtains at 11 a.m. He is surely too young to be out on his own.

Thursday September 4th

My mother is furious with the Queen for not flying the flag at half-mast over Buckingham Palace, and for not coming to London to see and comfort the huge crowds of mourners who continue to throng the parks and streets near the royal palaces. The press are being blamed for her death, and my mother is threatening to cancel Hello!.

Over dinner tonight Ivan said, 'What

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