BBA & HBWC Administrator
Andrea Reece
30 Winton Avenue, London, N11 2AT
Tel: 0208 889 1292
Mob: 07807 893369
Email: branford.boase@gmail.com
Press Enquiries
Andrea Reece
Tel: 07807 893369 | Email: branford.boase@gmail.com
The juicy, heart wrenching, horrible life of Peter Elkington and how his life is oh so miserable
It all started with a slam on the table and a “Hand your phone over young man, I’m absolutely fuming with you”. My mum and stepdad were clearly unimpressed with the very ‘positive’ email home from scouts that night. Effectively what happened was that we had a sort of PSHE lesson in scouts, and my friend Rocco thought it would be hilarious to put a half punctured frilly thing on his head and be in the same group as me. Obviously, as any child would think, I thought I had some sort of a saving grace so I said “What! I have no knowledge of this! That can’t be me?” But sure enough, in big bold letters on the top of the email the words: “Your son had been misbehaving and ignoring leaders in scouts”, popped up. This is the moment I knew I was in for it. A cold sweat trickled across my gleamy forehead. Then, MOST LIKELY, four things happened: Firstly, my Mum took my phone away, 2) My Mum doesn’t trust me anymore 3) The TALK… 4) Early bedtime. Surprise surprise, it really didn’t pay off in the end, but usually that’s the deal when you’re lying. My parents were BALLISTIC. Not only had I failed the science test but now this.
Everything had been going downhill. Then, the next day, my caring, loving, “supporting” school decides to throw a curveball and announce a maths test. In my household, tests are affiliated with the dreaded word revision, which means HOURS of sitting, screaming and tears. If I managed to fail the test, EVERYTHING I ever loved would be gone. So… I had two choices, revise and do well OR do nothing and rely on instincts. To be frank, I did a bit of both. Test day couldn’t come fast enough. Today was the day life could redeem me, in the eyes of my parents, or ruin me further. Anyway, I sat the test and anxiously waited the next few days for the result. So much was on the line: my phone, my alexa, the next 4 years of my life. As it turned out, we got the results the next thursday, and the rush of fear mixed with relief turned to happiness when I flipped the paper over to get 75%. This may not seem much but in my eyes all I saw was redemption. But that was short lived as I saw my dad the next day and I received absolutely NO MERCY. I received the talk, no treats and I had to do whatever he pleased me to do. But sooner or later (10 minutes after we talked), he got over it.
It’s like the Alanis Morissette song that says, “An old man turned ninety-eight, he won the lottery, but he died the next day”, as something good happened, only for it to all turn sour, for about 10 minutes. You should also know I’ve been saving up for a PS5™, as my grandma, who in all fairness doesn’t know the difference between a PS4 and PS5. BUT she knows the difference in the price tag, so a year ago she brought me a PS4. Obviously I was grateful for it but a primal urge in me wanted more, better gear. So I saved and saved and saved a bit more. Then the scout thing happened, and the science test happened and all dreams of a PS5™ were snatched away and stomped on. That brings us pretty much to today, where I’m sitting at my desk, with my clanky keyboard, writing for a panel of judges that remind me of a court case to read my story with their stone-cold expressions and to only laugh at the fact that I thought this was interesting. This however boils down to the point that I put the effort in, and frankly that’s more than enough to me. Maybe not for my mum though. Although, don’t take this as a sign that I don’t want to win, I would like to win but it’s fair game to anyone. PLEASE PICK ME, I’M DESPERATE FOR A PS5 … Hint Hint.