• A sort of massage. Short for physiotherapy. For instance, if you had a muscle that really, really hurt and that you wanted left alone, a cruel person (Miss Stamp) would insist on giving you a violent pummelling to make it better. Ha.
rate • To fancy someone. Like I fancy (or rate) the Sex God. And I certainly do fancy the SG, as anyone with the brains of an earwig (i.e., not Jas) would know by now. Phew– even writing about him in the glossary has made me go all jelloid. And stupidoid.
Reeves and Mortimer • Are a comedy double act. They are very mad indeed. But I like them.
rucky • A rucksack. Like a little kangaroo pouch you wear on your back to put things in. Backpack.
shirty • Flustered and twitchy and coming on all pompous.
Slack Alice • A Slack Alice is someone who is all stupid and nerdy. The sort of person who is always pulling their knickers up because they are too big (i.e., Jas).
umby • Umbrella. Also “brolly”. Mary Poppins used to say “gamp” for umbrella. But what I say to that is– who cares?
wet • A drippy, useless, rterdy idiot Lindsay.
whelks • A horrible shellfish thing that only the truly mad (like my grandad, for instance) eat They are unbelievably slimy and mucuslifoe.
With love and thanks to my family – Mutti and Vati, Sophie and John, Kimmy and, of course, the magnificent three – Eduardo Delfonso Delgardo, Honor and Libbsy. To the Kiwi-a-gogo branch of the family and also in memory of Eth and Ted. Again I would like to thank my fab mates for not killing me. You know who you are: Pip “What an exciting conversion” Pringle, Jeddbox, Jimjams, Elton, Jools and the Mogul, Lozzer, Bobbins, Porky Morgan, Geff “Guildford calling”, Jo Good, Tony the Frock, Jenkins the Pen, Philip K, Kim and Sandy, Baggy Aggiss, Cock of the North and family, all my old school mates – Barbara D, Sheila R and Rosie M, etc., and thank you to Black Dog the captain. To the fabulous St Nick’s support group, in particular Aunti Haze and Doug. To the Natural Health Centre. Especial thanks again to Piccadilly – to the lovely Brenda and Jude, and Margot for selling me to Europe … and in particular to Germany: having a book called Frontal Knutschen is a marvellous thing. To my new mates at Scholastic – Nyree, and Kirsty and Gavin. And huge thanks to the truly marvy Clare Alexander and the quietly magnificent Gillon Aitken.
Contents
Thursday October 21st
1:00 p.m.
Looking out of my bedroom window, counting my unblessings. Raining. A lot. It’s like living fully dressed in a pond. And I am the prisoner of whatsit.
I have to stay in my room, pretending to have tummy lurgy, so that Dad will not know I am an ostracised leper banned from Stalag 14 (i.e. suspended from school). I’m not alone in my room, though, because my cat Angus is also under house arrest for his love romps with Naomi the Burmese sex kitten.
2:00 p.m.
They’ll be doing PE now.
I never thought the day would come when I would long to hear Miss Stamp (Sports Oberführer and part-time lesbian) say, “Right, girls, into your PE knickers!”
But it has.
3.30 p.m.
All the Ace Gang will be thinking about the walk home from school.
Applying a touch of lippy. A hint of nail polish. Maybe even mascara because it is RE and Miss Wilson can’t even control her tragic 70s hairdo let alone a class. Rosie said she was going to test Miss Wilson’s sanity by giving herself a face mask in class and see if Miss Wilson has a nervy spaz.
Jas will be practising her pouting in case she bumps into Tom.
3:50 p.m.
How come Jas got off with cloakroom duty and I got banned? I am a whatsit … a scapethingy.
4.10 p.m.
Robbie the Sex God (MY NEW BOYFRIEND!!! Yesss and three times yesss!!!!!) will be going home from college now. Walking along in a Sex Goddy sort of way. A walking snogging machine.
4.30 p.m.
Mutti came in.
“Right, you can start making your startling recovery now, Georgia.”
Oh cheers. Thanks a lot. Goodnight. Just because Elvis Attwood, school caretaker from Planet of the Loons, tripped over his own wheelbarrow (when I told him Jas was on fire) I am banned from school.
Mutti rambled on, although she makes very little sense since Vati got home.
“It’s your own fault, you antagonise him and now you are paying the price.”
Yeah yeah, rave on.
4.45 p.m.
Phoned Jas.
“Jas.”
“Oh, hi Gee.”
“Why didn’t you phone me?”
“You’re phoning me. I would have got the engaged tone.”
“Jas, please don’t annoy me, I’ve only been speaking to you for two seconds.”
“I’m not annoying you.”
“Wrong.”
“Well, I’ve only said about two words to you.”
“That’s enough.”
Silence.