My Madder Fatter Diary (30 page)

Writing. Not talking. THAT makes me feel better. Now FUCK OFF Dr Tossface with your silly theories.

Oh he was only trying to help.

Ignore me. I’m in a foul mood. Color Me Badd are still number one.

Tuesday 25.6.91

8.23 p.m.

I’m so scared of fucking up the good things in my life. I just feel everyone is growing out of me.

To make this situation better I really should stop going on about how good
Take Hart
was compared to
Art Attack
. Rae – NO-ONE OVER THE AGE OF 12 CARES.

Friday 28.6.91

9.35 p.m.

I am at Mort’s house because we have a meeting tomorrow in London about Poland. She’s worked out where we are going as I have no clue. She’s brilliant with maps. She’s brilliant with everything. She has a fantastic tan and she has bought me the best present ever – some Nelson Mandela drink coasters! They are FANTASTIC! I will never use them. They are too good!

Every time you are down you have to remember that life can get better. Nelson Mandela used to be in prison. Now he is a hero and something you can put your cup of tea on. THINGS CHANGE.

Saturday 29.6.91

10.34 p.m.

The Poland meeting seemed to go quite well. We will be going to a place called
Œ
widnica. It’s quite near the German border. The team we are going with seem lovely – you get paired up with a teacher and you do the lessons together. I’ve got a brilliant lady called Angela – she’s from Hull. HULL! Tell me that place isn’t my destiny?! It pops up everywhere. I made a few jokes in the group sessions that people laughed at. We’ve been told the country is in a transitional state and very different to what we are used to. We need to take batteries and torches, shower gel – everything really. They don’t really get vegetarians so they will mainly live on eggs. If you want to phone home you have to go to a special place in town and book the call.

Yes. Inside I am beyond panic BUT Angela is from Hull. That’s telling me something. And Mort is always going to be there. If I can stick this I can prove everyone wrong. Everyone. Hardly anyone in Stamford has been to Poland – it’s all Torremolinos, or skiing in Italy or Florida. If I do this . . . Even writing it is hard but I can start to put the fuck up away. The nightmare away. I can become what I need to be. And I can lose weight, go Interrailing with Haddock without a panic attack and do it on every train in Europe – and now there’s no Iron Curtain in even more countries!

That last bit was a joke – I just need to calm myself with thoughts of Haddock-based sex adventures.

Sunday 30.6.91

11.00 p.m.

Poland sounds amazing but what if my crazy neurotic-ness fucks things up.

NO. STOP THINKING OF IT.

Jason Donovan is number one. Drippy thing from
Joseph
but he looks GORGEOUS as hell in his multi-coloured dream coat.

Monday 1.7.91

8.28 p.m.

The sun is shining, the radio is blaring and summer 91 has arrived in splendid form! Whether or not the next three months (is that all?!) can live up to today’s weather is another thing. I hope they can.

Thursday 4.7.91

12.46 a.m.

You know Shellboss was rejected today from somewhere she really wanted to go to and I could say absolutely nothing constructive whatsoever. The girl has helped me through endless horrible stuff, especially this year, and I think I just ended upsetting her more.

God I’m a twat. It should actually be a massive banner over my head: Rae is a twat.

‘Rae is a twat’ fits the
Blankety Blank
theme tune perfectly.

Friday 5.7.91

11.45 p.m.

I think everyone is back. Tomorrow. I haven’t seen people for ages. It will be amazing to see their reactions to me being less of a fat cow.

It will be BEYOND wonderful if Haddock is out.

Mum says I’ve got to start taking compliments and then started saying stuff like ‘I think sometimes Rachel I’ve been too hard on you. I’ve just didn’t want you to get a big head. There’s nothing worse than a big head.’

There are far worse things than having a big head and being arrogant but it was not time to start a row. The phone bill hasn’t arrived yet.

It was ALMOST an apology for being a dictator mother.

Sunday 7.7.91

3.09 a.m.

WHAT A NIGHT.

REACTIONS TO MY WEIGHT LOSS FROM PEOPLE WHO HAVEN’T SEEN ME IN AGES –

Dobber
– ‘You look amazing, but you did anyway!’ (she’s just lovely).

Battered Sausage
– ‘LESS BIG RAZZA!’ (predictable but half a compliment).

Fig
– ‘You’ve lost shitloads of weight. I’ve put some on. It’s all the kebabs.’ (He has – but he’s still good looking and very sweet).

Then Haddock’s girlfriend came in the Vaults. Now she’s been around for months so she’s sort of seen my weight disappear and she’s been really kind about it but she was followed by HADDOCK.

I swear when you haven’t seen him for ages he . . . HE GETS MORE GOOD LOOKING. It’s like he’s taking horny pills or something or I’m just UTTERLY LOVED UP TO THE POINT OF NEAR HEART ATTACK.

He walked in just as Kenny Thomas’ ‘Thinking About Your Love’ was playing on the Vaults jukebox. Me and that jukebox are psychically linked – shit song but lyrics spot on.

I quickly put Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine’s ‘Sheriff Fatman’ on.

He didn’t spot us at first. Then I swore he did a double take and waved. Eventually he came over. It’s the eyes. They are like chocolate. A lovely non fattening chocolate. Like Thornton’s Continental but with zero calories.

Can you tell I’m hungry?

Anyway he looked me straight in the eye and dry- as-a-bone said ‘Have you seen Rae?’ and winked.

I said ‘Piss off – I will have you know I am Rae of which you speak. I’ve just not been eating so many crisps.’

Then he goes ‘Looking good young lady.’

Looking good young lady. It’s hard to come back from that.

And I said ‘Well you look knackered’ (HE DIDN’T – HE LOOKED BEYOND BEAUTY).

He then told me he’d been ‘burning the candle at both ends’ and is going to work all summer. I said I was going to Poland at the end of the month. He just sniffed and said ‘Well we better have a good time while we can then.’

Then we all went to Olivers and we all WENT FOR IT. He still dances like a god.

Now I’m tired but I can’t sleep. I don’t think I can sleep again.

Monday 8.7.91

10.20 p.m.

I was tempted by a pizza tonight that Adnan was scoffing but I have never been so committed to sticking to this. I can do it. I’VE DONE IT and I’m keeping doing it. The weekend proved it.

God – I hope the Poles still have food queues and rations. Oh that’s an awful thought. I just don’t want to get there and put on loads of weight.

Wednesday 10.7.91

9.30 p.m.

If I’m not writing much in this diary it’s because NOTHING AT ALL is going on.

Diets are boring. Weighing out Special K (25 grams!) is dull but essential.

I am totally living for the weekends and of viewings of you know who.

Saturday 13.7.91

11.23 p.m.

Haddock was working tonight. I very nearly had a Pukka Pie and chips in commiseration. The Model Fish Bar smells like SEX when you haven’t been there in a long time but I resisted. I would feel like crap afterwards and just at the time I feel the loss of my virginity nearing more than ever before.

Sunday 14.7.91

10.23 p.m.

Don’t I write total shit at times?

Tuesday 16.7.91

4.55 p.m.

My mum is under the complete control of the all-eating Adnan. It’s very sad – for such a strong woman she disintegrates in relationships. She’s a right pathetic cow. She waits on his every word. Perhaps it’s her generation. That’s the only way they know how to be with men.

And before you say, if I married Haddock I would not moon all over him night and day and wait on his every word and wish. He’d certainly do the washing up, wash his own underpants and do the cooking. I don’t mind doing the hoovering and the driving everywhere. It would be a very equal relationship IF WE EVER GOT OUT OF BED!

Can you imagine if people knew about this?! The world would explode!! His girlfriend certainly would! HA HA HA!!! Even if I do ever go out with him I’m not telling him all this. I know it’s a bit . . . full on.

Wednesday 17.7.91

11.34 p.m.

Thoughts have been bloody awful today.

You never forget being a gooseberry. You never forgive either – both the people who made you one (not their fault) and yourself (YOUR fault).

I want to save the world but I haven’t worked out a way to save myself yet.

Today it was quite funny/tragic really. I had a bad thought on the way back home, swiped myself hard around my face and two people were behind me. I realised all the tramps and ‘nutters’ I used to avoid and I had become one!

A street nutter.

If my writing is slightly all over the place it’s because I’m trying to avoid watching a woman on TV who’s having a facelift.

I got into the hall of residence I wanted at Hull which was a severe relief.

I can’t stand staying in my room on a night as lovely as this. I want to be a part of it.

Thursday 18.7.91

4.39 a.m.

It’s pissing it down with rain. I hope it does it like this on Saturday night as Battered Sausage reckons he is sleeping down the Meadows!

Having trouble sleeping. Keep thinking about Poland. Can I stick it?

I love ‘Get Ready!’ by Roachford. Says so much of what I want to say. Asks all the questions too.

It was 49p in the bargain bin at Woolworths. Criminal really.

Sunday 21.7.91

3.45 a.m.

Just had the last Saturday night before Mort and me go to Poland.

Battered Sausage’s girlfriend bought him the Bryan Adams number one single shit. We took the piss for 3 hours tonight! We managed to work ‘Everything I Do I Do It For You’ into nearly every sentence we said to him. IT WAS EPIC.

Haddock and me chatted for ages. When he said goodbye he gave me a big hug and said ‘Now be careful and don’t you be running off with a Pole.’

I told him I wouldn’t. I didn’t tell him a photo of him was coming with me to Poland.

It is.

Wednesday 24.7.91

7.46 p.m.

All of us have got to do a special lecture in Poland on British Culture. Naturally I have picked music. They’ve got a video player there so I am going to take a recording of
The
Rock ‘n’ Roll Years
to show them AND I have drawn pictures of hippies and punks. Apparently they didn’t have hardly any Western music and they have only just got MTV.

I would NOT have survived if I had been born in Poland. No way.

Thursday 25.7.91

10.12 p.m.

My suitcase is packed. I’m at Mort’s house now because Mr Mort is driving us to Heathrow tomorrow. I have bought every medicine and drug known to man. I basically emptied Boots today. I don’t think I’ll need corn plasters but I’ve got some. Nan had corns – not 19 year olds!

Please, PLEASE GOD let me be able to cope with this. Please don’t let me go mental. Please let me keep it together and not go mad in a foreign country.

Friday 26.7.91

6.49 p.m.

Here I am on board a LOT Polish Airlines plane. It’s so cramped it’s unbelievable and my ears are killing me. Mort – a quick word.

Hello!

Thank you.

Food is about to be served! Lovely can’t wait for this one. I’m sitting next to a skydiver. I’d hate to be a stewardess – still I suppose it’s an escape from Eastern Europe isn’t it? I can’t see anything outside the window.

I like Poland already for one thing. There are 18,400 Polish zlotys to the pound. For the first time in my life I feel rich.

I feel a bit mad but OK. There’s a lot going on.

Saturday 27.7.91

1.20 a.m. Polish time

12.20 a.m. GMT

I’m going to do Polish time from now on. It’s too confusing otherwise.

POLAND!! Well we landed after mass turbulence and then we discovered that some of the people’s luggage was still at Heathrow! I started singing ‘Travelling Light’ but everyone death stared me so I stopped.

Now at a hotel in Krakow and we have to get up at 7.30 a.m. tomorrow to see some salt mines! MINES!! A MINE. I can’t get out of it though. Deep breaths.

We stopped off at this really weird place. It seemed like a primary school that they had opened specially. We had some aniseedy bread, herb tea, fish and an onion. AN ONION??!! This place is harsh. I left the fish WELL alone.