So anyhow, that was just another small thing that made me think I wasn’t going to be a Bournemouth guy. The biggest one was hiding under my T-shirt. And in my trainers. And under my hat, if I’d had one. And in my pants. You already know what it was, only this time it felt different. I mean, I’m used to being itchy pretty much all of the time and looking like a patchwork quilt made out of leftover scabs most of the time, but ever since we left Swansea something weird had definitely been going on with my skin. And even though I was trying really hard not to think about what my body was up to, that wasn’t easy because it kind of felt like I’d drunk a humongous bottle of Coke and all the fizz was trying to escape out through my skin. Everywhere. And the more I tried to not think about it, the more I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

But actually, it was better than trying not to think about the open mic in Bournemouth, which by the way Leonard still thought I should do. When he said, I know it’ll be hard, but what could really go wrong, Norman, old chap, I didn’t say anything but I thought, well, actually, lots. Because things go wrong all the time. Like that Dan guy not wanting to see me. Like what happened at Swansea’s Got Talent. Like us nearly getting smashed to smithereens by a delivery van. That’s three big things that have gone wrong lately that I can think of straightaway.

But then again, Jax reckons that if something’s hard then that’s what makes it worth doing. Like when you know it’s going to hurt or get you in trouble and even if it’s the hardest thing you ever thought you could do in the world. Even if you know it’s all going to go south and you’re heading to hell in a handbasket, that’s when something is most worth doing, he reckons.

Like once when we were nine and Jax was trying to convince me to jump into the empty sea pool at Penzance in winter for no good reason except it’d be fun. That deep end was really deep and I was pretty sure there was a good chance I’d break my neck and die if I did it. And the shallow end was right there and we could have done that easily, but Jax didn’t want to. He wanted to jump in the deep end of course. And because Jax did it, I did it, too.

I didn’t break my neck and die, but I did break my watch and we had to make a written apology to the council for trespassing. Because even though we got out of there before anyone caught us, my library card fell out of my jacket pocket, so when they found it they knew we’d been there. My written apology sounded pretty good, Mum said, and I even found out the names of the right people in the council and everything. But Jax just wrote I think you all stink on a piece of paper in really neat writing and drew some stick kids holding their noses standing around a guy in a council uniform. Which got him grounded and no pocket money for a month. So do you see what I mean?