November 28th, 2015: The fridge or what?
Posted by Gravecat at 3:30 pm under Childhood, School Diary. Comments (1)

Of the numerous relics that have survived my chaotic childhood, perhaps the most treasured are a collection of my old school journals. These consisted of books with alternating pages of lined and plain paper, and each kid in my school had their own — the idea was that you were supposed to write about what you’d done the day before, and draw a picture to go along with it. Due to the way the books were constructed, the central page consisted of two plain pages, allowing for a larger drawing with no text required — this was the Holy Grail of the school journals, something we all looked forward to with barely-contained glee.

Naturally, being the maddening little shit that I was, I’d decided not to play by the rules; the vast majority of what was written in my school journals ranged from a significant bending of the truth from actual events, through to plausible lies, to utter fabrications involving ghosts and aliens. I wasn’t content to merely write about what had happened in my life; I was  going to make it more interesting.

I’ve got dozens of scans from these books, which I’ll be posting every so often on this blog, but to kick things off, here’s one of my personal favourites, and the origin of the phrase, “The fridge or what?” which a few local friends and I still use to refer to being extremely cold.

 

This almost certainly never happened.

The gist of the story is that I was reluctant to get out of bed, and in an attempt to turf me out of my fortress of solitude, a mystery assailant pulled off my blankets, and then things descend into unintelligible madness. “Something hot went back on” may have referred to an application of a hot water bottle, then the lack of blankets and pillows resulted in a core temperature so low, I could think only to reply with, “the frige [sic] or what.” All the evidence here points to my older sister being responsible, but I doubt this was actually the case.

Apparently, Philip was number 22 in the class register, which is the reason for it being my unlucky number. Both of these things are also almost entirely complete fabrications. Philip was somewhat of a nemesis of mine, in that we were on friendly terms, but he was also the class clown — a rank that I clearly deserved. He once tried to trade me some magnets for one of those shitty little handheld electronic LCD game systems — a little yellow plastic thing that involved defeating ghosts with a crucifix — but I fabricated some lie about how I’d brokered a better deal for it already, so I couldn’t accept that fine trade of two fucking magnets.

As for the caption on the picture, “Hardwares” referred to my trainers, which were one of the more successful attempts by Clarks Shoes to appeal to kids, and god damn did I ever love my Hardwares. This was in stark comparison to a later advertising campaign (for a different pair of shoes) in which a snot-nosed little shit in the TV commercial announced, “I want somefing mega,” causing my entire school to immediately stop using the word “mega” overnight, and to never utter that word again. Good job, Clarks. Good fucking job.


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