‘It’s OK, I’m wearing really big knickers!’. Louise Rennison
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had to creep into the kitchen and finish off the chips she had left.
4:00 p.m.
In my room. Practising feeling lonely and friendless in preparation for the months ahead.
4:05 p.m.
I haven’t heard from my so-called mates for days. Well, since this morning, anyway. I don’t need to practise. I AM lonely and friendless.
4:10 p.m.
I went into the front room to watch TV. Libby was snoozing but woke up when I sat down. She stood up on her little fat legs and put her arms up to me.
“I love my Georgie, I lobe my Georgie.”
She made it into a little song:
“Haha, I lobe my Georgie,
I love my little Girgie, Gingie, Gingie.
Hahahaha. Ginger, I love Ginger…my Ginger.”
In her tiny mad brain I am half cat, half sister. I picked her up and we snuggled down on the sofa together. At least I have someone who loves me in this family, even if she is bonkers.
Mum came in and said, “You look really sweet together. It only seems a little while ago that you were that size, Georgie. Dad and I used to take you to the park and you used to have a little hat with earflaps that were like cats’ paws. You were such a sweet little girl.”
Oh good Lord, here we go. It will be, “How did my little girl get so big…?”
Sure enough, Mum’s eyes got all watery and she started stroking my hair (very annoying) and doing the “How did my little Georgie get so…” routine.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on where you were sitting) Libby let off the smelliest, loudest fart known to humanity. It came out of her bum-oley with such force that she lifted off my knee– like a hovercraft. Even she looked surprised by what had come out of her.
I pushed her off my knee and leaped up. “Libby, that is disgusting!!!! I blame you, Mum, for the bean extravaganza. It’s not natural, the amount of stuff that comes out of such a little girl.”
Phwoaar…
Grandad farted once when we were out in the street. Really loudly. When he looked around behind him there was a woman walking her dachshund dog. You know, those little sausage dog things. The woman heard Grandad’s fart (who didn’t?) and she said, “Well, really!!”
And Grandad said, “I’m terribly sorry, madam, I seem to have shot the legs off your dog.” Which was possibly the last semi-sane thing he said. I’d still rather stay here with him than go to Kiwi-a-gogo.
I said to Mum, “Well, can I go and live with Grandad, then?”
And she said, “He lives in an old people’s home.”
And I said, “So?”
But she is so mad and unreasonable she wouldn’t even discuss it.
11:30 p.m.
All my mates came and did a candlelit vigil underneath my bedroom window. Sven wore a paper hat. I don’t know why. Does it matter? It was just his Swedish way of saying goodbye. They all sang “Mon Merle a Perdu une Plume” as a tribute. Well, they sang the first verse before Mr and Mrs Next Door came and complained that they were frightening their dogs. Jas said, “I’m going to stay silently here all night.”
But then Sven said, “Chips, now.” And they all went off.
It was so sad.
Friday July 23rd
The day the world ends
Midday
Decided to have to be dragged out of bed by the police so that the world will know how I have been treated. I have tied myself to the bedhead with my dressing-gown sleeves. I can imagine the newspaper headlines: Promising hockey superstar teenager fights attempts to force her to Kiwi-a-gogo land. I’ve put on a hint of make-up just in case, for the photos.
12:10 p.m.
Mum surprised me by bursting into my room all flushed like a pancake.
“Guess what?!!!! We’re not going to New Zealand because your dad is coming home!!!!!”
I said, “What?”
She was hugging me and didn’t seem to notice I was like a rigid hamster in bed.
I was a bit dazed. “Vati, home, coming?”
Great news!!!!!!!!
1:00 p.m.
My dad has had his shoes blown off by a rogue bore!!!!! All this hot steam shot out of something he was fixing and he leaped off and broke his foot. Mum has put her foot down with a firm hand and said she will not take her children to a place where steam shoots out of the ground.
She said to me, “It’s hard enough getting you to get out of bed as it is, I’m not giving you more excuses.” Which is incredibly unfair, but I didn’t say anything, because inside I was saying “Yessssss!!!!!!”
The only fly in the manger is that Vati is going to be coming home when his contract is finished. Still, if it is a choice of going to live in Kiwi-a-gogo land or having to put up with Vati snooping around my bedroom and telling me what it was like in the seventies, I suppose I will choose having the grumpy moustachioed one.
Mum is hideously happy. She won’t stop hugging me. Which I think is on the hypocritical side but I didn’t say anything. I just hugged her back and asked her quickly for a fiver. Which she gave me. Yesss!!!!
Beautiful English summer’s day. Lovely, lovely drizzly rain!!! We don’t have to go to Kiwi-a-gogo!!!
Thank you, God. I will always believe in you. I was only pretending to become a Buddhist.
3:00 p.m.
I put on some really loud music in my room and started to unpack my bikini. Lalalalala…fabbity fab fab. Marvy and double cool with knobs.
Uncle Eddie turned up with a bottle of champagne and Angus in a basket. I noticed Uncle Eddie had put a muzzle on him. What a week. Angus soon had it off and I could see him strolling around his domain. (The dustbins.) When I went downstairs Uncle Eddie had picked up Libby and was dancing around with her. She was singing, “Uncle Eggy, Uncle Eggy,” which is quite funny when you think about it.
4:20 p.m.
My little room. I love you, my little room!!! Lalalalalalala. Fabbity fab fab. Ho-di-hum. Everything is so lovely: my little Reeves and Mortimer poster with them in the nuddy-pants, my little desk, my little bed…my little window overlooking next door’s garden.
5:00 p.m.
Phoned the Ace Crew and they went mental. Just put the phone down when there was a ring on the doorbell. It was Mr Next Door. His glasses were on all sideways. He did not say, “I am so glad you are not going, Georgia.” In fact, he didn’t say anything but just handed over a sweeping brush and stomped off.
Attached to the bottom part of the brush was Angus. He dragged the brush into the kitchen. There was the sound of pots and pans and chairs crashing over. I called out, “Libbs, Angus is back.”
11:00 p.m.
Before I went up to bed I looked into the kitchen. Libbs was feeding Angus cat food by hand. Aaahhh, this was more like it!! Back to normal.