Oscar’s Diary

‘Oscar’s Diary’ is an introductory piece to my characters Oscar Barnlow and Tina Garraway, and was written for the podcast ‘The Table’. Listen to the podcast of this piece here.

PART 1

Monday

Dear diary,

Since the train won’t be arriving for another fifteen minutes, I thought I’d let you know that I’m late to work. Again. The wait’s too long to just listen to people chatter but it’s not long enough for me to work on that report that’s due in on Friday. So that’s great. But, on the plus side, it’s my birthday on Friday, so maybe I’ll plan the party at lunch. Is it sad to be this excited for your 23rd birthday? Probably. Anyway, remind me to buy carrots tonight, I don’t think I have any left. Not that you can actually remind me, being a diary, but let’s hope I remember for once.

Tuesday

Dear diary,

It was potatoes I needed, not carrots. I’ve now got enough to feed a small rabbit army. I’m trying to be more positive though, so let’s look on the bright side – I’m not late today! And I’ve got a new jacket so guess who’s winning at life?! On the less positive side, the little work I had done on that report got garbled by that dodgy USB so I guess I’m starting that again. And would you look at that! It’s pelting with rain. The school kids are positively screeching. Give me strength.

Wednesday

Dear diary,

Imagine the look on Reece’s face yesterday when I walked into the nice clean office sopping wet. He had to go and ask me about that report too. Wish I had had the good sense to lie rather than blankly tell the truth but, never mind. I can see someone on the other platform right now holding a big bouquet of brightly coloured flowers. I wonder if they were giving them or had just received them? Remind me to buy some for mum tonight, she’d like that.

P.S. Only two days till my birthday! (I know no one cares, but there you go.)

Thursday

Dear diary,

Forgot about the flowers. But! I DID THE REPORT! Reece was floored. Take that, moody git. And I was early too! I don’t know who I am anymore. As for this party planning stuff, I’m just going to have a few people over at mine. Same old friends as always. Where’s the harm, right? We’re not 17 any more… Saying that, mum’s still mad about that burn mark on her carpet. Oh well. Place of my own this time.

Friday

Dear Oscar Barnlow, it seems you left your diary on the train – in addition to the multitude of things you seem to have forgotten this week. Congratulations.

Against my better judgement I’ve been reading through this and no offence, but it seems like your life is a bit of a mess. Maybe it’s just who you are as a person, but please. Take some unsolicited advice.

1. Trains are unreliable. Trains will always be unreliable! You really ought to know to avoid going through Gomshall, I never take that one. It’s up to you to make sure you’re on a train that will get you to work on time, every day.

2. Save more than one copy of your work. At 23 years old, I’m kind of surprised this hasn’t occurred to you already.

3. Write a shopping list?

4. Umbrella. I bet your new jacket would have thanked you for it.

5. Headphones can give you at least a little bit of peace. I do see your point about the school kids, they are a living nightmare. So you might as well be prepared for it.

But overall, Oscar, I suppose you don’t seem like a bad person. Since you’ve put your address in the front of this notebook, I’ll be sending this back to you. The £5 note in the front is to buy flowers for your mum since you forgot. And, well… happy birthday.

From Tina Garraway

PART 2

Monday

Dear diary,

Why did I agree to meet Tina on a Monday? This place is quiet, it’s not even ten yet, and I’m on my second slice of cake. My phone ran out of battery on the way here so I’m stuck listening to the coffee shop soundtrack. Can’t complain, it’s not that bad. But with any luck, she’ll show up early too.

Since I’ve got a bit of time, I might as well tell you exactly how I got into this mess…

After I read Tina’s entry it only made sense to, you know, look her up online. I won’t lie, I had an image of a middle-aged lady with a snakeskin handbag. Don’t ask how I came to that conclusion.

I spent a lot of time looking for her (probably a bit too much time) but I found her in the end. And guess what? I learnt later on that she’s only a year younger than me. There was just one picture of her and in that she’s covering her face with a bouquet of black roses. Maybe that should have been a warning sign? It was sort of creepy, in an artsy kind of way. But I never notice these things until it’s too late. So I messaged her.

I thanked her and then we got to talking, a little. She types like she’s waiting to kill you. I mean, who doesn’t use emojis? She ends messages with full stops sometimes, can you even imagine?

A week later, she asked me if I wanted to meet up at a coffee stop near the station where I first lost this thing in the first place. And here I am. Wishing I was at home with a cup of soup.

Come on diary, even you as an inanimate object can probably see that this was a bad idea, right? Meeting up with strangers you met online? No, worse, meeting someone you met through a diary. I’ve read Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets, and I should definitely have not agreed to this.

Why do I feel like I’m forgetting something? I know I only forget things when I’m panicking but… you know me. Always finding new things to panic about. And this is most certainly something to panic about.

Oh. I know. Damn it, I know what I forgot. Tina said that I’ll be able to recognise her by something that she’d be wearing. What… what was it again?

I need to check my messages. It’ll be in there. Let me just grab my… oh. Oh no. My phone!

Time to think. A red bag? I swear it was something to do with red. Or maybe it was a jacket. A t-shirt? Do artsy girls wear boring things like t-shirts? Maybe it wasn’t even something red, I have no idea. Maybe another coffee will jog my memory?

Okay, someone’s just come in. It’s not like I can recognise anyone without my glasses, so I should probably put those on. And… it’s an old lady. Brilliant. She half looks like my nan.

But there’s someone behind her – a pretty girl with sharp features and a glare to kill.

And she’s wearing a bright red skirt.

[Image: Lake at the University of Surrey. Source: Dani Relbyn. Used with permission]