It’s Junior Cert D-Day, but it’s the ‘ball’ that I’m worried about...

THE Junior Cert results are pending. Secretly I’m not in the least bothered.

It’s only the Junior Cert after all. Who ever asks ‘what did you get in your Junior Cert?’ Nobody.

Having said that, if he fails I’ll kill him! He’s warned me already that Irish is looking a bit dodgy but I’m remaining optimistic. No child of mine is going to fail Irish.

To celebrate the day that’s in it the 16 year old has asked to go to a ‘Results Ball’ in a town 45 minutes away.

We all know ‘Results Ball’ is just code for a p*** up but I told him he could go on three conditions: he didn’t get into any fights, he didn’t do drugs and he was contactable by phone at all times.

Himself said I was mental letting him go and it took a substantial amount of not so gentle persuasion to get him on board.

‘ They’ll all be drinking!’ he admonished. Yes, I said, they probably will but I would hope we have instilled enough cop on in the young fella for him to know that if he comes home in The Horrors that will be the end of his social life until he’s 18.

‘I went to the cinema when I got my Inter results,’ Himself tells the 16 year old proudly. Even I rolled my eyes at that. ‘God you were a dry shite,’ I tell him. ‘Anyway that was 35 years ago, times have changed.’

‘Why, what did you do?’ ‘Well I told my parents I was going to the cinema but really I was in a pub called Randalls drinking Ritz and shifting fellas.’

Himself jumps up and starts pacing the living room floor. ‘Jesus Christ will you stop telling him stuff like that! He’s going to think it’s perfectly alright to...’

‘ To what? Drink Ritz and shift fellas?? Firstly I don’t think they make Ritz anymore and second- ly I don’t think he’s into fellas... You’re not...are you?’

The 16 year old looks highly amused. ‘No mam. I’m not gay.’

Thank God for that because I really don’t think his father would cope. He’s really looking forward to the day when his son brings home good looking girls and he can cast a gamey eye over them! If the child turned out to be gay that would spoil all his fun.

I can only hope in this case, the apple DOES fall very far from the tree and he doesn’t become the terror of a teenager that I was when I was his age. Please God let him have inherited some of his father’s common sense and squareness.

And if he does turn out to be a chip off the old block, I’ll just have to suck it up and chalk it down to penance. But I really do hope what goes around doesn’t come around.

Me nerves!