We’re nearing the end lads. S certainly seems to think so anyway: her once carefully crafted prose about Paul Bateman and going to Bangor has now degenerated into a bored kind of scrawl, on those days where she remembers to exist.

But we’ve come this far, so we’re bloody well going to see it through to the end.



“Packed things to go. Aunty Ann and Uncle Tom came. Saw Minder.”


“Went to (No idea – see below). Saw Aunty Gaenor and Uncle Brian (How many of your relatives are on this fucking holiday? Have you actually rented Devon?), had supper.”

I cannot for the life of me work this out. I assume it’s North something, but Google Maps doesn’t throw up any likely suggestions. I did find somewhere called ‘Cockington’ though.

Anyway, what do we think?



“Went to Kents Cavern and around on bus.”

On the 19th and 20th, our heroine was once again put into suspended animation.


“Went to Torquay. Had spending spree.”

She’s a high roller.



“Went to Trago Mills. Uncle Brian came home.”

Why? Did he fall out with everyone? Or wasn’t there enough room in Devon for all of you?



“Went to Plymouth, got kylt. (I assume she means a kilt, since Googling ‘kylt’ comes up with ‘Kylt Products for Veterinary Diagnostics’.) Went on Hove (This makes fucking zero sense. I think she means something else. I also think she’s overdosed on Sanatogen or something.) Raced with Daffyd around statues.”


“Came home.”


“Woke up 1.55. Didn’t do anything all day.”


“Woke up 11.30. Copied up needlework. Aunty Eleri came.”


“Went to Kwiks, got perm kit. Saw Gail & Dewi. Aunty Eleri not well.”


“Went to Rhyl. Went to F. Fair. Bought Jam comb.”

Wow, she bought a comb with The Jam on it. Why? I wish I could find a picture of it, but I can’t so I’ll use a picture of the Charles and Diana comb I got in North Wales, proving that North Wales is a hotbed of shit combs:



“Went to church.”

I wish I could say “Whew, what an exciting ride eh lads?” But I don’t have the lying skills for that. Never mind, we’re almost there, and we can’t abandon it now just because it’s utter shit. This applies to most of my blog posts by the way.

Anyway, join me next time for our spectacular finale, featuring the return of Paul Bateman (sort of), some Teletext, and a tube map.

17 thoughts on “Diary of an 80s teenager part 13: God this is boring

  1. I thought she meant the radio DJ Nick Abbot. She went to Nick Abbot. Looking at the map there’s a place called Newton Abbot. Surely that’s a premier tourist location…right?

    Hove is a long way from Devon, but it’s along the coast. If they’re in a caravan maybe.

    I like how she wrote “didn’t do anything all day” yet on this day wrote it down. What happened on the blank days?

    Saw Gail & Dewi. Is this Dewi Puss? I thought he was a dragon. Is he married to Gail? This plot is so confusing.


  2. Hove might actually mean the Hoe seeing as she’s in Plymouth and she’s shit at writing and spelling.


  3. Ah, Trago Mills… Imagine a pound shop the size of B&Q and then fill it with the kind of stuff you used to lovingly record after your pound shop visits and you’re getting close. Uncle Brian probably couldn’t take it.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. My hungover brain imagined jam comb being some sort of unusual funfair (F.Fair?) treat. Like a honeycomb but made out of jam. A solid sticky slab with Aero-like bubbles in it. Surprisingly, that’s not a thing.

    Liked by 3 people

  5. We went to Kent’s Cavern in the 1970’s becasue it was a rainy day….. All I can remember is that it was a big cave and the guide man smelled of mothballs. It was so boring I thought I was going to die.
    Was he still there in the 1980’s – and did he have a different smell for a different decade ?



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