Drunk and extremely dangerous!

Just when I thought I'd hit rock bottom, it was a case of grab your safety helmet, we're going subterranean!



Last Friday night Daniel's mum, Mary, and his stepdad, Donald, invited us all round to their house for a little party (in the loosest sense of the word!) And Mary announced that they were going to have a baby! Can you imagine it - at her age! I mean, she must be nearly 40 and Donald is positively geriatric.

Daniel was being amazingly calm about it all.

He said, `Well your dad and Belinda are starting their own family.'

I was like: `Durr! Belinda's ten years younger than my dad, but your mum's .... well...' There was no easy way to say this. `... old!'



Ooops! He got the hump about that big time and wouldn't speak to me. Great! I was stuck at a wrinklies' baby shower with no one to talk to but the inhabitants of the tropical fish tank. Daniel had gone into a corner with his rodent featured brother, Joe, and they were drinking shandy and trying to look all grown up and sophisticated - as if! Belinda and Mary were swapping pregnancy stories and Dad and Donald were slapping each other on the back and knocking back Donald's single malt whisky.



I had no alternative - any port in a storm - I went and sat with Gran who was throwing Bailey's down her neck like it was in short supply.

`Wonderful news, isn't it, love?' she slurred, taking another gulp.

`Mmmm,' I sort of agreed.

`Do you want a drop? she asked, offering me her glass of sticky beige liquid.

`Gran!' I was shocked.

`Go on,' she giggled. `You're fourteen and a half. Kids in Europe drink wine at every meal. It won't do you any harm.'

Actually, what she said made sense. I am almost fifteen and I am very mature for my age. And everyone else in the room was drinking (except Mary and Belinda) so I thought; why not? I grabbed a tumbler and poured myself a hefty shot.

But when I took a slug of it - eeeeooooowwwww! Yuk! It was disgusting!

`Aaaagggh! I've been poisoned!' I spluttered, putting my hand over my mouth and making a dash for the toilet. But I hadn't noticed that Gran had put the bottle down by the side of her chair and as I turned to head for the door, my foot slipped on it and..... well - think you can imagine the rest.



Four hours in A&E, a plaster cast from my thigh to my toe and crutches that were formerly used by the Spanish Inquisition as implements of torture! And I'm going to be like this for 6 weeks!

Can you believe it!

On the positive side though - I can't go to school for all that time and Daniel's feeling really guilty about not staying with me, so he's being very supportive. It's only a teensy bit annoying that he keeps saying: `When I broke my leg ....'

Ggggrrrr! Doesn't he realise this isn't about him - it's all about me!