The Complete Fab Confessions of Georgia Nicolson: Books 1-10. Louise Rennison
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“No, I mean why?”
“Just parce que, ma petite pal.”
Midnight
Oui!!! Treès, treès bon!! Merveilleux!!!! It was treès, treès bon plus les grandes knobs.
The bus driver was like a sort of mobile version of Elvis Attwood, our school caretaker– i.e. very old, mad and bad-tempered, but sitting in a bus rather than a hut. I said to Mobile Elvis, “Bonsoir, mon très old garçon. Mon amie et moi désire deux billets pour Deansgate, s’il vous plaît.”
He understood we wanted to go to Deansgate but unluckily, like all very old mad people, thought he could be funny and witty. He gave us the tickets (full fare! Yesss!!! Result!!!!). I handed over the money and he said, “Merci buckets.” Then he laughed himself senseless (easy enough as he was mad in the first place). I thought he would choke to death because he was laughing so much, but sadly he didn’t.
What is the matter with people?
12:20 a.m.
Snug in my bed. Maybe I should leave school as I look so old.
2:30 a.m.
I could go off and have sophisticated adventures instead of hanging around with very young people.
12:35 a.m.
I could go to India and visit the Dalai Lama, or is it Gandhi who lives there? I don’t know. We haven’t done India in geoggers yet. All I know is what Mum tells me about it, and that is mostly, “Oh it was just so…you know…great.” Anyway, even if we had done India in geoggers Mrs Franks is so bad at explaining things that I wouldn’t know any more than I do now. She called concentration camps “contraception camps” while we were doing world affairs.
1:00 a.m.
Now on to part two of the plan. The glaciosity bit. I must look for an opportunity to show SG how stand-offish I can be.
Saturday September 4th
5:50 p.m.
Five days to Stalag 14 (school) and counting. I got my uniform out of the back of the wardrobe. Angus must have been using it as his lair by the look of it. I bunged it in the washing machine and hoped the bits of feather would come off.
I did cheer myself up a bit because I thought of something funny to do with my beret. Which we are forced to wear by the Oberführer (Miss “Hawkeye” Heaton).
6:00 p.m.
Phoned Rosie.
“I’ve thought of something really cool to do with the beret this term.”
Rosie said, “I thought we were going to do the rolling it up into the sausage and pinning it under our hair at the back routine again?”
“Yeah I know, but what about this…what about if we use it as combination beret and lunchbox?”
Rosie said, “How do you mean?”
I had to explain, patiently. It is not easy being the leader of the gang. I sympathise with Richard Branson on this one, although I still see no reason for his ridiculous beard.
Anyway, I said, “Pop your sandwiches or crisps or whatever into the beret, then tie it on to your head with your scarf. Voilà, beret and lunchpack all in one.”
“Hawkeye would go mad.”
“Exactamondo, ma petite amie.’
Rosie said, “You are a genius.” She is not wrong.
Sunday September 5th 5:10 p.m.
Au secours and sacré bleu!! Just walking to the park to meet the gang when I saw Call me Arnold, the vicar. I ducked down behind a car to hide until he had gone by. But the car was his car. When he got in he saw me crouching down. I had to pretend I was looking at a really interesting pebble.
God will know that I was hiding from his maidservant. Still, I don’t know how I could possibly be made to suffer more than I am already.
5:45 p.m.
Now I know. Cousin James is coming round tomorrow.
Midnight
If he gets all weird like he has done in the past and attempt to kiss me or anything, I may go mad.
Monday September 6th
10:00 p.m.
Cousin James asked me if I wanted to play strip poker. I was so embarrassed, I just said, “I don’t know how to play poker,” and he said, “Well, let’s play strip snap, then.”
I pretended I could hear the phone ringing. When he left, five million years later, I noticed there was something lurking under his nose. I thought it was a bogey at first, but sadly I now think it was a sort of moustache. Erlack!
Wednesday September 8th
10:00 p.m.
Mum came in my bedroom and asked if I wanted a wake-up call for Stalag 14 tomorrow. I said, “Oh, hello Mum, what are you doing in?”
She patted me on the head and said, “Goodnight, my sweet-natured little elf.”
Nothing seems to bother her now that Vati is coming home. She might have put his moustache out of her mind but I haven’t. In fact, to remind her I have drawn a moustache on the heart she put in the calendar.
10:30 p.m.
Washed my hair but couldn’t be bothered drying it. I know if I sleep on it while it is damp I will wake up with the “stupid hedgehog” look. There will be bits sticking up all over the place, so I am sleeping with my pillow tucked under my neck and my head sort of drooping over the other side.
This is how Japanese Buddhist people sleep– it’s probably whatsit…zen. They probably do it because it lets their chi flow free. Chi is energy that is in your body it says in my Buddhist book. Heaven knows I need as much energy as I can get for working out my plan for SG retrieval.
I think all the blood may have drained into my head from my shoulders.
11:00 p.m.
What happens if you get too much extra blood in your head? If you were meant to have two shoulders and a neck’s worth of extra blood in your head you would have a bigger head, surely?
Or inflatable ears that could accommodate the extra blood and so on. Do Japanese have big ears?
Perhaps that is why Wet Lindsay’s ears are so huge– because she’s got Japanese ancestors. I wouldn’t be surprised.
That would explain her tiny legs.
But not her big goggly eyes.
Thursday September 9th
8:00 a.m.
Woke up all snuggled down under the covers. I must have dropped asleep and forgotten about my zen position. My awake mind said, “Ha-so, I am a Japanese zen person hasleep with head h-over end of bed.” But my English subconscious took over when I was asleep and said, “Snuggle down, you know you want to…”
Bathroom
8:10 a.m.