and jogging off backwards, waving at us. Then he turned towards the team and started doing run run leap like a mad gazelle. When he was a few metres from them, he did slow-motion running with his arms outstretched and his team started doing the same towards him. When they reached each other, they had a minor ruck.
Boys never cease to amaze me, never.
I wonder if he will phone me though? Masimo hasn’t turned up. Perhaps he already has a new girlfriend.
Half time Dave’s team are winning one-nil. I’d like to say it is down to superior skill, but largely it’s because Sven fell on to the St Pat’s goalkeeper and the ball went over the line. St Pat’s protested, but it’s pointless arguing with Sven. He took the player who was arguing with him and lifted him off his feet and kissed him on the mouth.
The bloke was nearly sick, but he shut up and the goal counted.
Wet Lindsay did have half-time oranges. Sadly not down her bra.
But even so, half-time oranges. How crap is that? Vair vair crap.
Three minutes later I went and stood really near to Jas. She ignorez-voused me. So I gave a pretendy piece of half-time chocolate to one of her owls. She snatched her owly away.
Tom was there and he said, “Oh, come on, you two. Put your handbags down. Come on, Jas, speak to Georgia.”
She said, “Who?”
And went off flicking her fringe to speak to Emma, who turned up to hang around Dave. Jas has only known Emma for about a minute and a half. I do hate her. It’s official.
She should be on my side in my time of neednosity.
After all I have done for her.
I said that to the Ace Gang as the second half started. I said, “She is ignorez-vousing me after all I have done for her.” Ellen dithered into life (unfortunately) and said, “Er…what, erm, what have you, erm, done like, for her?” Where to begin?
I said, “For a start, I have put up with her stupid fringe-flicking for about a million years.”
But it was pointless trying to get anyone’s attention because they were all acting like divs in front of their boyfriends.
5:15 p.m. I thought I might have to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on Ellen when Declan asked her to the cinema at the end of the match. Well, actually, I say “asked,” but what happened is that he nodded his head at her and she trotted over to him like puppy dog girl. It was like a horrible love fest at the end.
I would have more pridenosity with my boyfriend. If I had a boyfriend.
6:00 p.m. All alone at home.
Phone rang. I nervously picked it up, but it was only Mum telling me that they are at Grandvati’s for tea and did I want to go over. Is she mad?
6:02 p.m. The rest of the gang have gone to the cinema. With their boyfriends. Not even a thought for my tragicosity. Well, to be fair, they did ask me to go, but I would have just been goosegog girl among the snoggers.
6:15 p.m. Angus seems to understand what I am going through. He has leaped up on to my lap.
Nice.
Aaaah. He’s purring.
Really loudly actually.
Nice though.
All comfy and warmy.
One minute later Now he’s snuggling into me.
Nice.
He’s all cosy on my knee and I can read my Vogue.
One minute later He’s snuggling into my chest now, which is nice, but a bit difficult for me to move my arms.
But he’s all comfy and…
Now he’s on my shoulders, like a fur cape.
He’s settled down now-that’s nice. He’s doing his snuggling and purring.
One minute later Now he’s back on my lap…he’s actually on my magazine now.
One minute later Now he’s back on my chest.
I CAN’T STAND ANY MORE OF THIS!!!!!!
Five minutes later It’s no use him just staring at me through the window. I’m not letting him in.
Three minutes later Staring and staring.
I’m going into the kitchen to see if there is anything to stave off scurvy.
Two minutes later Now he’s staring in through the kitchen window.
6:30 p.m. He can’t stare at me in the bathroom because there is frosted glass. Hahahahaha.
He’d better not burrow in through the sewage system and pop up out of the loo.
No calls from anyone.
Not Masimo, not Dave the Laugh.
Too busy with his girlfriend I suppose.
Really, I’m too upset and tired to do my beauty routine, but as someone once said, possibly on Big Brother, “When the going gets tough, the tough get moisturising and plucking.”
If I am once again going to be spinster of the parish, I will at least be smoothy smooth.
In the bathroom What does Dad do with his razors? They are so blunt! I’ve torn my legs to ribbons. I look like I’ve been playing hockey with the Piranha family. Ouchy ouch ouch!!!
And ouch.
I must staunch the flow. I’ve probably lost an armful of blood already.
Phone rang Oh my giddy god’s pyjamas. I hobbled over with my legs covered in bits of loo paper and picked up the receiver. I tried for a casual, nonchalant sort of voice, one that didn’t sound like I was bleeding to death.
“Hello.”
“Hello, you cheeky Fräulein. You know you love it.”
It was Dave. Oh, I felt so happy I wanted to cry.
He said, “So what’s up, Kittykat?”
And I started.
“After you went on Saturday night, the Luuurve God got on his huffmobile.”
Dave said, “And he didn’t say anything?”
“No, he just looked at me all sort of sad.”
“Was he crying?”
“Er no.”
“Probably worried his mascara would run.”
“Dave.”
“I’m just being jovial Dave the Biscuit to lighten the mood.”
“Well, don’t be. I’m too upset.”
“Look, Georgia, this is a bit tricky for me. There’s Emma and well…”
“Well what? I’m only asking you to be like the Hornmeister and tell me what to do.”
There was a pause and then he said, “OK, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll casually bump into him…”
“And not mention pants or anything.”
“No, I will leave pants out of it. I’ll just say that there is nothing going on to have a girlie tizz about and…”
“You won’t actually say the