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caught. And just imagine what Mr Grouchy would say then. I’d probably be sent to my room for ten years.
    God, I’m so hungry. Dad’s cooking has not improved with practice. The only good thing is he’s given up making porridge for the summer, and now we have Weetabix for breakfast. But dinners are still pretty bad.
    Sausages are classic – they’re always burnt on one side and raw on the other. When he grills fish fingers, they’re as dry as a bone. And he can NOT heat up baked beans without letting half of them stick to the pot. Can you believe it? But we order in quite a lot too, like Chinese or pizza, which we never did when Mam was here, and which suits me fine.
    I’ve got a few new spots on my chin, that Bumble says is probably from all the takeaway food I’ve been eating, but I don’t listen – he has at least three more spots than me. He says that his ones are normal teenage spots, even though they look exactly the same as mine.
    Ruth Wallace told me I was getting fat the last time I saw her. She didn’t even notice the spots. She’s such an idiot.
    Mam and I are e-mailing now. I can’t believe how easy it is. My typing is a bit slow, but who cares? The great thing is, Mam is just getting into work when I get home from school, so she’s sitting right there at her computer when I send her a message, and she often e-mails me right back. It makes her feel closer somehow.
    And it’s not that I’m deceiving Dad – I’m just not telling him about it, which is a completely differentthing. He’d only worry about me using the Internet, in case some weirdo tried to make contact with me, or something. So it’s best for everyone, if he doesn’t know.
    Remember I told you that Mam’s sharing a flat with a couple called George and Enda? Well it turns out that they’re two men – my mother is living with two gay men. Is that weird, or what? She says they’re great, very tidy and both excellent cooks. We could sure use one of them around here sometimes.
    I haven’t asked her yet about when she’s coming home to see me. I thought it would be easier on the computer, but it isn’t. What if she says it could be ages? At least if I don’t know, I can go on hoping she’ll come back really soon, maybe even for good. I wish she’d mention it herself though.
    The only bad thing is I can’t print out her e-mails, because we don’t have a printer, and I’m afraid to save them in case Dad finds them. I know Bumble says nobody can read my e-mails without knowing my password, but as Granny Daly would say, BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY .
    By the way, before you ask – yes, Marjorie Maloney is still Dad’s new best friend. They’ve been out four times now. See if I care. As long as he NEVER, EVER brings her home here afterwards.
    I haven’t mentioned Marjorie to Mam. Well, there’s no point, is there? Anyway, we’ve got more important things to talk about, like Enda and George, who both work in a gym, and who’ve got Mam cheap membership there. And about the haircut I got last week that Bumble says makes me look a lot older.
    It’s much sunnier in San Francisco than in Ireland, except around Christmas when it can get a bit chilly and wet, but it’s foggy there too, near the ocean – that’s the Pacific Ocean, on the other side of America. Mam says the area she lives in is called the sunny Mission, because it’s hardly ever foggy there.
    I’d love to go and visit her. Maybe I could save up my pocket money for a trip, ha ha. I’m not exactly the most well paid teenager in town. Dad says you don’t need a lot of money to enjoy yourself, which goes to show how out of touch he is. I bet everyone in my class gets more pocket money than me. I bet Catherine Eggleston gets loads.
    She and Trudy Higgins have fake tans, which Bumble and I think is very sad. Terry McNamara probably likes it – he and Catherine are still MADLY IN LOVE. Someone get me a bucket, quick.
    Right, Dad just shouted up that dinner is ready.