Lisa McGee - Erins Diary: An Official Derry Girls Book

For John Hume.
Thank you for giving Derry Girls like me a better future.

For the people of Derry.
Who laughed at my ambition and called me a mouth*.
Well, whos laughing now!

*Check my glossary

(So this is the bit where the author usually thanks the people in their life who helped them while writing the book, but I dont really think any of my family or friends deserve a mention to be honest, so Im just gonna skip it.)

I think I should open with a quote from Seamus Heaney, as hes my second favourite poet. I could quote my first favourite poet but well, is it a bit weird to quote myself in my own book? No, Im not doing that. Im just too modest.

Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests.

Ill dig with it.

Seamus Heaney

Yeah thats good. Very profound. Yeah Im definitely going to go with that. Well either that or the chorus of Hero by Mariah Carey. Hmmm. Cant decide.

Possible titles for inevitable publication:

1. The Life and Times of Erin Quinn by Erin Quinn
2. The Erin Quinn Story by Erin Quinn
3. The Trouble with The Troubles by Erin Quinn-Donnelly (might have married David Donnelly by the time this hits the shelves)
4. Derry Product by Erin Quinn (pun on words will people get it???)
5. The Life and Legacy of Erin Quinn by Erin Quinn (do you have to be dead to have a legacy?? Need to check this)
6. The Gospel According to Erin Quinn (might be blasphemy? Dont want to piss off Jesus)
7. Heart of Erin by Erin Quinn (clever double meaning because Erin means Ireland but is it maybe too clever??)

Ive endeavoured to keep these memoirs as authentic as possible. Therefore, I occasionally use colloquialisms. Ive marked these up with asterisks. The glossary below should help non-Derry natives navigate the pages that follow.

Aye: Yes.

Bars: Gossip/scandal. E.g. Have you any bars for me? Origin: some say when Derrys female shirt factory workers had exciting or scandalous news they would tap the metal bar above their sewing machine to alert their co-workers. This may well be completely made up.

Blocked: Drunk.

Boke: Vomit.

Bokeorama: A lot of vomit.

Brit: A member of the British Armed Forces.

Broke: Embarrassed.

Broke to the bone: Hugely embarrassed.

Buncrana: A popular holiday destination.

Buzzing: Very happy. E.g. to be buzzing out of ones tree.

Cack attack: A state of extreme nervousness. E.g. Im having a complete cack attack.

Cant hold their water: Someone who is very indiscreet.

Catch yourself on: Dont be so ridiculous.

Chicken Ball Special: Authentic Chinese delicacy only available in Derry.

Class: Brilliant.

Clattered: To be covered in something. E.g. I was clattered in paint.

Craic: Fun or news. E.g. The craic was great or Have you any craic for me? Important: use with caution, particularly when travelling. My cousin Nuala once asked someone if they had any craic in a Boston pub and wound up spending the night in jail.

Cracker: Beyond brilliant.

Critter: Someone who evokes sympathy. E.g. You poor critter.

Dicko: A general insult.

Dohertys special mince: The only mince permissible by law in Derry.

Dose: An unbearable human being.

Eejit: An idiot.

Fenian: Offensive term for a Catholic unless a Catholic is using it to describe Catholics in which case its sort of fine.

Football Special: The nicest non-alcoholic beverage in the world.

Free State: The Republic of Ireland.

Gone: Please. E.g. Gone give me that.

Head melter: Someone who causes you mental distress.

Hi: A sound placed at the end of almost every sentence for no particular reason. E.g. No problem hi.

Hole: Backside.

IRA: Irish Republican Army.

Jaffa: Offensive term for a Protestant.

John Hume: The MP for Foyle (Derry City). General good egg.

John Humes office: A place people ring/visit in the hope of solving a wide variety of problems.

Lurred: Absolutely delighted. Origins of this one uncertain. Some people attribute it to the Catholic pilgrimage site of Lourdes in southwestern France, i.e. a feeling of religious ecstasy. Though I can find no evidence to back up this claim.

Mind: Remember. E.g. Do you mind the time I fell down the stairs?

Mouth: Someone prone to exaggeration.

Mucker: Friend.

No bother at all: This is absolutely no trouble in the slightest and Id be thrilled to help. Not to be confused with A bit of bother: This is a huge amount of trouble and I resent being asked to help.

Not a baldies: No idea.

Orange Order: Conservative Unionist organisation who enjoy marching.

Provo: A member of the Provisional IRA.

Punt: Currency of the Free State, aka the Republic of Ireland.

Raging: Annoyed/angry.

Ride (n): A very attractive person.

Ride (v): To have sex.

Ripping: Extremely annoyed/angry. FYI a Riptor scale may be used to indicate just how ripping a person is. At the lower end theres Angela Ripping , e.g. I was a bit Angela Ripping, to be honest, and at the upper end we have Jack the Ripping , e.g. I am absolutely Jack the Ripping. If youre particularly upset about something you might even be off the Riptor scale .

RUC: The Royal Ulster Constabulary (the cops).

Ruined: Spoilt rotten.

Saunter: To stroll about in a playful manner. Also, an insult. E.g. Saunter on please be on your way.

Shite the tights: Someone of a nervous disposition.

Slabber: A show-off.

So it is/So I am: A phrase used for emphasis. E.g. Im delighted so I am.

Spoof: Fake or counterfeit goods. E.g. Thats a spoof fiver.

Spoofing: Being loose with the truth.

Stall the ball: Stop what youre doing immediately.

Start: To provoke. E.g. Dont start me.

Steaming: Drunk.

Swipe/Swiped: Steal/stole.

Tayto sandwich: A cheese and onion crisp sandwich, a local delicacy.

The Late Late Toy Show: Cultural event of the year.

UDA: Ulster Defence Association.

Wain: A child or young person.

Watch yourself now: Take care.

Whack: An unspecified amount.

Wile: Very or terrible. E.g. Im wile hungry/Shes having a wile time of it.

Wise up: Dont be so stupid and/or immature.

Yes: Hello. E.g. Yes, what about you? = Hello, how are you?

Dear Reader,

It is a pleasure to introduce you to this, my memoirs.

Now. Where to begin?

People often ask if I knew Id grow up to be a world-renowned writer.

In many ways I suppose I did. My earliest memory is being just nine months old. I grabbed hold of a purple crayon with my chubby little hands and started scrawling out a story. Obviously, it didnt make sense. I couldnt actually spell or anything I was nine months old I mean, that would have made me some sort of freak. No, it was just a load of random squiggles, really. I also did it on the living room wall, which wasnt great as my da had only just papered it. I think he cried, actually. Anyway, my point is the instinct was there. Writing wasnt a choice. It was a calling.