Monday 1 September 1986

…Back to school.
I am now in the 4th year juniors and I have one primary school year left.
This diary covers that year.
We did a maths test first to revise our brains,
then it was morning playtime,
then we wrote an autobiography on ourselves.
Lunch was as usual cheese pie, potatoes and tomatoes
followed by a milkshake…

And here is an extract from that “autobiography”:

I never wrote as neat as this again in my life

My disinclination towards cheese pie, recorded so pointedly above, would only have been compounded when I found myself staring at a plate of the stuff an hour or so later. Euucchh.

Perhaps I should make clear that the 10-year-old me did not solely wear clothes entirely made of wool. This was a reference to the numerous jumpers, hats, scarves and gloves knitted for me chiefly by my gran, who loved nothing more than to busy herself with one of those pull-out knitting patterns that came free with Woman’s Weekly.

I’m quite surprised actually by how many things I claim to “hate”, from new shoes to shopping to semolina.

Oh dear: so full of hatred at such a young age. Clearly this is where it all began to go wrong.

But as for what I want to be when I grow up… nothing’s changed.

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