the spirit. You see, that is why coming to Hamburger-a-gogo is sooo good for you – it will broaden what there is of your mind.”
I started to sing, “I want to be a part of it, New York, New YORK!!!!!”
I stopped because of intense pensioner-glaring when we passed the post office.
Jas was slouching along by my side like a trusty…badger.
“Jas, why do they call it that? New York, New York? We don’t say London, London, do we?”
“Hmmmm.”
“Perhaps it’s because Hamburgese people are a bit on the slow side and don’t get it immediately, so they have to say it twice.”
9:30 p.m.
Vati made us watch a really old film tonight with John Wayne in it.
Midnight
I was right to be worried about them being a bit on the slow side. Crikey, John Waaaaaaayne speaks slowly. If all Americans speak so slowly, I’ll be there all day queueing up behind people as they ask for a cup of “caaaaaawwwwwfffeeeee”. (And I won’t even know why I am in the queue, as I don’t even like caawwfffee.)
Also, if Dad doesn’t stop singing Elvis songs I may go insane.
Friday May 13th
Nine days to Hamburger-a-gogo land Dawn
Dad burst into my room in his pyjamas and Elvis quiff, singing “Heartbreak Hotel”.
Still, now that I’m up, I’ll make a list of stuff to take to Hamburger-a-gogo.
7:25 a.m.
This is my packing list:
1 Make-up essentials
2 Really gorgey clothes
I’ve gathered my make-up essentials together and they fill a suitcase.
I wonder if I can get Jazzy to put some of my make-up in her bag. Mind you, knowing her, she’s already filled her bag with her ginormous knickers – or big “panties”, as we must learn to call them now.
Although “big panties” reminds me of incontinent knickers.
Still, let the Americans have it their way. I love them all. And I mean that most sincerely. Even though I have never met them.
Chaos headquarters 8:00 a.m.
Mutti was dragging Gordy out of Libby’s rucksack, and Libby was hitting Mum on the head with her spoon.
“Bad Mummy, bad.”
Libby had hidden Gordy in her rucky because she wanted to take him to nursery school with her. But even Mum noticed the rucksack walking around by itself.
Then the phone rang.
Mutti yelled at me, “Get that, Georgia, it’s bound to be one of your daft friends.”
Oh, that is nice, isn’t it? It’s much more likely to be one of her daft friends.
I answered it and said, “Yes, hello. Reception speaking, Hotel Insane.”
It was Dave the Laugh. Oh my giddy God, and I hadn’t even got any lip gloss on.
He said, “Hi, Sex Kitty, Hornmeister here. I’m in a hurry, but thought you would like to know that the extremely flash Masimo, who I personally feel might be on the gay side handbagwise—”
“Dave…”
“OK, OK. All I can find out is that he is staying in Manhattan and his surname is Scarlotti.”
I said, “Oh, thank you thank you, Dave.”
“It’s cool. I’m sure we can think of some way you can repay me – it may involve heavy snogging. Bye.”
And he put the phone down.
Yipppppeeeee!!!
Manhattan, here I come!
8:30 a.m.
Ran to meet Jas.
She was all flustered like a fringey loon.
I said, “Howdy.”
“Come on, Georgia, we’ll be late.”
As we galloped along, I said, “I am going to speak American all day today.”
Jas went, pant pant, “They speak English.”
I said, “Don’t be mad,” pant pant.
We arrived on time, but only just. Wet Lindsay was on sadist duty. She looked at us as we panted by her like we were a couple of turds in uniform.
“Can’t you two grow up and be on time for once?”
I gave her a big smile while gazing at her ear, and said, “Howdy. Now you all have a nice day. You hear?”
She stomped off to terrorise some first formers, but she was fingering her lugholes. Hahahahahaha. And also hasta la vista, baby.
Maths
God, maths is boring. And complete bollocks.
When I marry Masimo, I will have manservants to do my adding up for me.
And my quadratic equations, which I will never use.
Lunchtime Operation Track Down the Luuurve God
Made Jas come to the library with me.
Miss Wilson almost fell off her stool when we came in.
I calmed her by saying, “Alrighty? Now you all have a nice day.”
We lugged the big atlas to a table, and I leafed through the maps until I got to America and found New York, New York.
I said to Jas, “Now, where is Memphis, Memphis?”
Jas found it and said, “It looks a bit far down.”
For once she is not wrong. On the plus side, Manhattan is only about an eighth of an inch long.
But it is about two feet from Memphis.
Still, there must be buses. Surely?
4:30 p.m.
On the way home I was singing “Home, home on the range, where the deer and the antelope play” to Jazzy. She loves a bit of a singsong.
I said that. I said, “You love a bit of a singsong, don’t you, Jazzy?”
“No.”
“See, I knew you did. You do a little dance while I sing the chorus. You could do a dance based on a deer. Go on, do the little deer dance, make your feet like—”
And that is when she kicked me. She can be very violent.
She said, “I haven’t told him yet.”
“What? Who?”
“Hunk—er, I mean Tom, about Hamburger-a-gogo land.”
I looked at her in amazednosity. Radio Jas, the voice of the nation, had not told Hunky something?
She said, “I can be just as independent and adventurous as him.”
I didn’t laugh, even though I have seen the amount of knickers that Jas thinks she will need for seven days.
I