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Adrian Mole: Diary of a Provincial Man

Adrian Mole: Diary of a Provincial Man

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Published by NattWorthing
Compilation of a Guardian newspaper column, continuing the legendary diarist's troubled life story from December 1999 to November 2001. [Later published in novel form as "The Lost Diaries of Adrian Mole"].

PDF updated to include bookmarks & minor verbal corrections.
Compilation of a Guardian newspaper column, continuing the legendary diarist's troubled life story from December 1999 to November 2001. [Later published in novel form as "The Lost Diaries of Adrian Mole"].

PDF updated to include bookmarks & minor verbal corrections.

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Published by: NattWorthing on Oct 27, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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ADRIAN MOLE:DIARY OF A PROVINCIAL MAN
By Sue Townsend
Published in
The Guardian 
December 4
th
1999 – November 24
th
2001Collected as
The Lost Diaries of Adrian Mole 
,2008
E-book compilation v2.0, October 2009 
 
Adrian Mole is now aged 32
Friday, November 26, 1999, 2.30pm Wisteria Walk, Ashby-de-la-Zouch, Leicestershire
I have not kept a diary since fire destroyed my house, furniture,clothes, books and life savings. The arsonist, Eleanor Flood, isesiding in a secure unit, where she is doing an MA. Her dissertationis entitled “The Phoenix - Myth Or Metaphor?” I know, because shewrites to me occasionally.I have protested to the authorities, but they are powerless to stop herletters, which are obviously being smuggled out by a corrupt prisonwarden. As I lie in bed at night, listening to the breathing of mysons, William and Glenn, in their bunk-beds only inches away frommy head, I often think of Eleanor Flood, and envy her. At least shehas a room of her own, and time in which to think and write.
11pm
Took the boys to watch Santa abseiling down the side of Debenhams in Leicester tonight on his way to his Grotto. Williamwas enchanted by the sight of Santa swinging from a climbing rope,but Glenn kept looking around anxiously at the crowd of onlookers.He said, "If anybody from school sees me 'ere, I'm a dead man,Dad."The queue for the grotto was at least 70 deep. It snaked throughToys into Bed Linens and Small Electrical Appliances. To placateus, Debenhams played Sir Cliff Richard's rendition of the Lord'sPrayer, sung to the tune of “Auld Lang Syne”. An old man with hisgreat-granddaughter muttered, "I didn't fight in two world wars sothat Cliff Richard could line his pockets by exploiting the Lord's
 
Prayer."A Scotsman behind him said, "Aye, and the bastard's murderin'‘Auld Lang Syne.’"I left the boys in the queue, and went to Boots to buy some Nurofenand a packet of Starburst (I am mildly addicted to both). As I walkedthrough the Foxhunter Shopping Centre, I passed a fat elf smoking acigarette. I approached the elf and said, "Forgive me, but are you oneof Santa's little helpers?" He scowled and said, "I'm on my break.Whadja want?"I explained about the queue in Debenhams and asked for his help,citing Glenn's Attention-Deficit Syndrome. On our way back to thequeue, the fat elf explained that he'd just been sacked from his job asan under-manager at NatWest. He said elf work was harder than itlooked - cheeriness didn't come easily to him. I sympathised."Perhaps we can meet up for a drink one night," he said. I looked athis weak eyes and his beer gut spilling over his green tights, andgave him a false telephone number. The fat elf took us to the front of the queue by saying, "Make way, make way, for this tragic family."The queue parted with much speculation as to which of the three of us was terminally ill.Santa was a disgrace: his beard was hanging off, and he'd made noattempt to hide his Reebok trainers. However, William wassufficiently deceived and asked for a Barbie Hairdressing Salon.
Saturday, November 27, 1999 Wisteria Walk, Ashby-le-la-Zouch, Leicestershire
 y mother married for the fourth time today. She is on the way tobeing the Elizabeth Taylor of Ashby-de-la-Zouch. Unfortunately, her

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