Skinny Melon and Me by Jean Ure

telephones. What Mum and Slimey call yuppies.
    When we got back from Portsmouth, Dad said I could go to the video shop and make my choice, as he had promised me. I was tempted to choose a horror film, just to show Rosemary that if I wanted to watch it I could, but then I thought maybe if I chose that Dad would be like Mum and break his promise and so I chose instead a film called
Strictly Ballroom
which is all about ballroom dancing which to be honest I am not really into but Skinny Melon had told me it had this really gorgeous-looking boy in it, and she was right, it did! He’s heaven. I am now seriously thinking of asking Mum if I can learn ballroom dancing. Imagine meeting a boy like that! (Some hopes!)
    Dad and Rosemary, unfortunately, got bored. Rosemary went and sat over the other side of the room and switched on a light and did her sewing, and Dad went off to have a bath, so that I was left on my own. I didn’t really mind, I suppose, though it is nicer when other people enjoy what you enjoy. I think Mum would enjoy it. It is her sort of thing. Next time we get a video I shall tell her to get that one.
    Tomorrow I am going home. I am trying to remember the things that I have seen and done so that I can tell Mum. I have been to the New Forest. I have been to the sea. I have been in the museum. I have seen the
Victory.
I have seen
Strictly Ballroom.
I have eaten: one Italian meal,one Indian meal, one Chinese meal, one French meal, and one American meal (hamburgers, only I had a vegeburger thinking of Slimey and dead things in the fridge). I suppose that is quite a lot of things to have seen and done in five days.
Later
    Dad and Rosemary have just had a bit of an argument about which of them is going to drive me back tomorrow. I heard them when I went to the bathroom. (I have noticed, in a flat, you can quite often hear people talking. It is not as private as in a house.) I heard Rosemary say, “She’s your daughter!” and then Dad said something that I couldn’t catch but I think it was something about needing to go into the office again, and Rosemary said, “I am not driving her all the way to London and that is that!”
    I’m glad she isn’t driving me. I don’t think I could bear it, and I don’t expect she could, either.
Friday
    Now I am back home. I had to come by train because of Rosemary refusing to drive me and Dad having to go into the office. It is a bit of a drawback in some ways having afather who is so important. I mean, I am glad of course that he is important, but I would have liked it better if he had been there more of the time as it was not so much fun when he wasn’t. I don’t feel very comfortable with Rosemary. I think she would rather I hadn’t come.
    I rang Mum before we left, to tell her what time my train was getting in. She was furious, I could tell. She said, “Train? All by yourself?” And I said yes, because Dad had to work. “Oh, does he?” she said. “Where is he? Let me speak to him!” I didn’t want her to but she started to shout. She shouted, “You put him on the telephone!” It was so loud that Dad heard it and came and took the receiver off me. He said, “Hallo? Pat?” quite pleasantly, I thought, but it soon developed into one of their rows.
    I think Mum must have asked him why I couldn’t stay till Saturday and come back by car because Dad sort of twisted his lips in a way which said, “I am being very patient but do not try me too far,” and informed her that, “Rosemary and I happen to have a very important dinner party that we have to go to this evening. It is not something we can get out of, nor would we wish to. All right?”
    I don’t know what Mum said after that because I couldn’t bear to listen any more. Why does everything always get so horrible when Mum and Dad talk to each other? I wish they hadn’t! It ruined the end of my holiday.
    Dad and Rosemary both came to the station with me. I would rather it had just been Dad, but at