then let it go…it goes nunga-nunga-nunga!”
I may be forced to become either a celibate or a lesbian.
Afternoon break
2:30 p.m.
Me and Ellen were sitting in the loos with our feet up against the back of the doors, so that the Hitler Youth (prefects) wouldn’t know we were in there and send us into the torrential rain. The Hitler Youth call it a “slight shower”. They’d still say that if the First Years were being swept to their deaths by tidal waves. Or if Elvis’s hut was bobbing along with a sail up, or…anyway, who cares what they say?
I said to Ellen through the cubicle wall, “Is your brother a bit on the mad side?”
I could hear her crunching her crisps. She thought about it. “No, he’s quite a laugh, really. He calls going to the loo ‘going to the piddly-diddly department’.”
I could hear her through the wall, laughing and choking. I just sat there staring at the loo door. After a bit she controlled herself and said, “If he’s going to the loo to do number twos he says, ‘I’m just off to the poo-parlour division’.” And she was off, wheezing and choking again. Sacré bleu. I am surrounded by les idiots.
3:30 p.m.
If it’s cold, Ellen’s hilarious brother says it is “nippy noodles”.
4:15 p.m.
Walked home. Thinking about the difference between girls and boys. For instance, when girls walk home we put on lippy and make-up. We chat. Sometimes we pretend to be hunchbacks. But that is it. Perfectly normal behaviour. When the Foxwood boys come out they hit each other, trip one another up and stuff leaves or caps down each other’s trousers. Ellen told me that sometimes her brother sets fire to his farts.
On the way to my house we passed through the park. There is a park Elvis. He is supposed to be the park keeper but mainly he prods at things with a pointy stick. Oh and his second job is to yell, “I can see you!” at innocent snoggers in bushes.
We hung around on the swings for a bit just to annoy Park Elvis. Rosie (who by the way, since the flaming fringe incident is an ex-smoker) said she had made it up with Sven her Swedish boyfriend. She fell out with him because he said to her parents, “Thank you for your daughter, she is, how you say? Jah…a great SNOG.”
I said, “How can you tell he’s sorry? No one can usually understand a word he says.”
And she said, “He knitted me a nose warmer.”
It’s really not worth asking.
Ellen said, “What about Dave the Laugh?”
I said, “What about him?”
“Well, do you really fancy him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what he looks like.”
“Well, what is the point, then?”
“Well, he’s like…erm…a red herring. In my elastic band strategy.”
They all looked at me. It was no use them all looking at me like I know what I am talking about. I’ll be the last one to know what I am talking about, believe me.
4:30 p.m.
My so-called private bedroom.
Angus was in my bed. I suspect not alone. I daren’t lift the cover in case it’s like in that film where there was a chopped-off horse’s head in the bed.
6:07 p.m.
Lying on the floor on cushion but at least Angus is nice and comfy. In Mum’s Cosmo it says, “Buddhism is the new optimism.”
Okey-doky. That’s what I’m going to do. Be a cheery Buddhist. Om hahaha om.
Monday September 27th
Sports
2:50 p.m.
It’s windy and rainy. Naturally these two facts mean that Miss Stamp our games mistress (who is definitely Hitler reincarnated in a gym skirt…she even has the little black moustache)…Anyway, these two facts mean that Adolfa has decided that the best thing we can do is…play hockey outside!!! I’d write to the newspapers to complain but I’ll probably drown out on the hockey pitch.
In bed
9:30 p.m.
Brrr. If I have pneumonia and die and never get to number ten on the snogging scale I’ll blame Adolfa. Just because she doesn’t have a life. Even now I’m only just getting feeling back in my bottom.
10:30 p.m.
When Mum said goodnight I took my opportunity and said, casually, “Mum, can I go and stay round at Jas’s on Wednesday night? Her mum says it’s OK if it’s OK with you. We’re doing a science project together…I mean me and Jas not me and Jas’s mother– that would be stupid.”
(Shut up, shut up now. Leave it! Don’t babble on, she’ll get suspicious and you will say something really stupid.)
Mum said, “You don’t usually do your homework, Gee. This is a bit of a change of heart.”
“Hahahaha– yeah right…I…” (Careful, careful, don’t say anything stupid.) “…I…thought I might be a scientist.” (Too late, she’s bound to rumble me now!)
“A scientist– not a backing singer, then?”
“No.”
“Hmmm.”
“So can I?”
“Oh yes, I suppose so. Night-night.”
Result!!!!!! Yesssss!!!!
Wednesday September 29th
Operation Elastic Band
Kitchen
8:00 a.m.
I grabbed a piece of toast and mumbled, “I’m off now, see you tomorrow night.”
Mum didn’t even look up from trying to fasten Libby into her dungarees. Libby had her porridge bowl on her head. Mum said, “OK, love, bye. Kiss your sister bye-bye.”
I said, “Pass,” I had kissed Libby before when she had been eating porridge and I didn’t want the experience again. I blew her a kiss. “Byeeeeee!”
Phew. Now then, quickly out of the door. Victory!!!!! I’ve packed all my clubwear and make-up and so on in my rucky. Here we go with Operation Elastic Band.
Just at the end of the path when Mum came out of the house, shouting, “Georgie, what do you mean, ‘See you tomorrow night’?”
OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.
I laughed casually (sounding a bit like a casual hyena). “Oh I knew you would forget, I’m staying at Jas’s tonight– remember?”
She looked blank.
Inwardly I was shouting, “LET ME GO!! SHUT UP, SHUT UP!! I MUST HAVE THE SEX GOD. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. YOU HAVE HAD YOUR LIFE!!!!” Outwardly I said, “Mum, I have to go, I’ll be late– see you tomorrow.”
Yessss!!! I am cool as le cucumber. Or possibly le ice cube.
3:50 p.m.
Last bell. Jas and I ran down the hill. Only five hours to get ready.
I said