Wednesday September 15th
Assembly
9:00 a.m.
Does Slim go to a special evening class on how to be boring? She was going on about tiny people with small heads or the poor or something. I don’t know, who cares? Well obviously someone cares, and maybe I will care again one day, but at the moment all my caringness is used up on myself.
RE
10:00 a.m.
Despite my tragedy I did cheer up a bit in RE. Honestly. Miss Wilson lives in the land of the very mad. Where does she get her stockings from? It can’t be a normal shop. It must be a circus shop. They are all thick and wrinkly like an elephant has been wearing them. Perhaps they are Slim’s cast-offs?
Rosie sent me a note: Dear Gee, Ask miss Wilson if God has a penis.
Even in my tragedy it made me laugh and Miss Wilson said, “Georgia, what is funny? Perhaps you could share the joke with us all.”
“Er…well, I was just wondering if God had…”
Rosie looked at me in amazement.
Miss Wilson was encouraging me in my religious curiosity. “You were wondering if God had…?”
“Yes, if God had a…beardy thing?”
Miss Wilson unfortunately did not realise how very funny I was being. She went on and on about the fact that he wasn’t really a bloke with a beard in the sky but more of a spiritual entity. She didn’t need to tell me that there is no big bloke in the sky. I know that. I’ve tried often enough to speak to him and get stuff. Hopeless. That is why if she had bothered to ask me I would have told her that I have become a zen Buddhist.
1:15 p.m.
What is it with Elvis? Jas and me were innocently moaning by the back of the science block and he comes along. Ears flapping in the wind. Raving on and on.
“What are you two up to?”
I said, “Nothing.”
“Don’t give me nothing. I know you two. You’ve probably been messing about in my hut.”
What is the matter with him? And why does he always wear a flat hat? I wonder if his head is flat underneath it? Probably. As we walked away I said to Jas, “He’s obsessed with us going in his hut. He’s ALWAYS saying we go in his hut. He goes on and on about it, like a budgie. Why does he go on and on about it?”
Jas was walking along. I said, “Why? On and on and on about us going in his poxy hut. Why us? Why keep accusing us of going in his hut? Why?”
Jas said, “Because we go in his hut.”
“So?”
5:00 p.m.
Jas’s room at her house. Jas has just popped down to the kitchen to make me some nutritious snack (Pop-Tarts) to cheer me up. I’m just not interested in anything, though.
5:03 p.m.
God her room is tidy. It’s pathetically tidy. All her cuddly toys are neatly lined up in size order on her bed. I’m going to mix them up for a hilarious laugh. Ho hum, pig’s bum. She’s even got a box with “letters” written on it. I wonder if she’s got a drawer that says “enormous pants” on it. There are some letters in the box. Probably private ones. It says PRIVATE on the top of them. Probably private, then. Probably letters that Tom has written to Jas. Very personal and private, I’d better put them away.
5:16 p.m.
She calls him HUNKY!!!! This is hilariously crap!! Absolutemento pathetico!!! HUNKY!!! Tom!!! Hahahahahaha.
5:18 p.m.
He calls her Po!!! Like in the Teletubbies. Good grief, that is sad.
5:19 p.m.
Po, for heaven’s sake.
5:20 p.m.
My lips are sealed vis-a-vis Hunky and Po.
5:21 p.m.
Even though it is very very funny I must never mention Hunky or Po.
5:23 p.m.
Jas comes back in. I say, “How is Hunky?”
My bedroom
7:00 p.m.
Jas is not speaking to me because I happened to find some personal letters of hers…She’s so touchy.”
10:30 p.m.
And unreasonable.
Thursday September 16th
8:20 a.m.
On the way to school. When I got to our usual meeting place Jas had already set off, walking really fast ahead of me. I yelled, “Hang on a minute, Po!!” But she ignored me.
Honestly, people really take themselves seriously when they have got a so-called boyfriend.
In a sort of a way it was very funny walking behind Jas. She walked really fast for about five minutes but she is not in tiptop physical condition. In fact, the only exercise she gets is lifting Pop-Tarts and putting them in her mouth. Anyway, she got tired and had to slow down so then I could catch her up. I walked about half a metre behind her: it was annoying her quite a lot but she couldn’t say anything as she is not speaking to me.
By the time I got to the school gates I was walking about ten centimetres behind her. Her beret was practically sticking up my nose.
She tried to escape me in assembly by standing next to Rosie but I squeezed in between them and looked at her with my face really near hers. She was all red and furious. Even her ears were red. Tee hee.
11:00 a.m.
Followed Jas into the loos. I went into the next cubicle to her and talked to her through the walls.
“Jas, I love you.”
“What are you doing? You’re being stupid!”
“No. YOU’RE being stupid, Po.”
“It was really mean of you to read my private letters.”
“They were only from Hunky.”
“You shouldn’t read people’s private things.”
“How would I know anything if I didn’t?”
There was a bit of a silence from the other side of the wall. Then she said, “What do you mean?”
I went on reasonably, “I wouldn’t even know you were called Po if I hadn’t read the letters.”
She was on the edge of bamboozlement. “Yeah, but that’s not the point…I…”
“You shouldn’t have secrets from your very best pal.”
“YOU have secrets.”
“I don’t– I even told you about my sticky-out nipples.”
“Well, Tom says they stuck out because it was cold.”
I couldn’t believe it. The bell went for the end of break and I heard Jas flush the loo and go out. I rushed out of my loo and set off down the corridor, following her. “You told Tom…about my sticky-out nipples???”
I couldn’t believe it. My nipples had been made a public mockery of a sham…I was so incensed I barely noticed Wet Lindsay talking to some unlucky fourth former. Although I did notice that she looked like an owl in a school uniform.
I was hissing at Jas. “You discussed my nipples with Hunky…I can’t believe it!!!”
Then from behind me I heard Wet Lindsay’s voice, “Georgia, your skirt is tucked up in your knickers…I don’t think it sets a very good example to the younger girls.”
Then she went off, sniggering in a pathetic sniggering owl sort of way.
5:00 p.m.
In the bath. That is it. I am on the warpath. I am now a loner. I have no friends. My so-called best friend only likes stupid Hunky and discusses my private body parts with him. And then he probably goes and discusses it with his older brother. And he and the SG have a good laugh.
5:15 p.m.
Angus is sitting on the side of the bath. He is drinking the water even though it has got bubble bath in it. His whiskers are all soapy.
5:20 p.m.
Now Libby has wandered in. Come in, everybody, why don’t you? I’m only having a bath. Naked. I’m surprised Mr and Mrs Next Door don’t pop in for a bit of a look.
I said to Libby, “Libby don’t push Angus like that, he’ll—”
5:21 p.m.
Angus is soaking and furious. When I fished him out of the bath he savaged my hand. Libby couldn’t stop laughing. What a life.
6:00 p.m.
Jas phoned. I said, “What do you want, nipple discusser?”
She said, “Look, can’t we call it quits? I won’t mention the Hunky business again if you forget about the nip nips incident.”
I didn’t want to give in because I was in too bad a mood so I just went, “Huh.”
But then I was all agog attention-wise because she said, “Tom phoned and told me The Stiff Dylans are doing a gig at the Crazy Coconut club a week Wednesday. AND WHAT’S MORE Dave the Laugh is going to be there. AND WHAT’S MORE my mum is staying at my aunt’s in Manchester.”
6:02 p.m.
Thinking.
6:05 p.m.
Thinking and eating cornflakes. Hmmm.
6:07 p.m.
Obviously this is it!!! This is my chance to implement the elastic band theory. I have to go to The Stiff Dylans gig and get off with Dave the Laugh. In front of the SG. This will serve the twofold purpose of maturiosity (being at a nightclub) and glaciosity (getting off with another boy). SG will be very jealous. He will want to come pinging back (the elastic band theory).
11:00 p.m.
I must start softening Mum up so that she will not be suspicious when I say I am staying at Jas’s on Wednesday night.
Saturday September 18th
10:00 a.m.
Mum nearly dropped Libby when I said, “Do you want me to get anything for you while I am in town this afternoon?”
She said, “Sorry, love, I thought for a moment you offered to do something for me. What did you really say?”
Even though I was irritated by her I kept a lovely smile on my face. “Oh Mutti…as if I never do anything for you!”
She said suspiciously, “Why are you smiling like that? What have you got on that is mine? If you have borrowed my gold necklace I’ll go mad.”
I snapped then. “Look, what is the matter with you? How can I ever be a nice person if you are so suspicious all the time? What are you, a mother or a police dog? Do you want to do a body search before I go out? Honestly!!!”
Then I remembered my Operation Elastic Band just in the knickers of time. I said nicely, “I just thought you might want me to bring something back for you. I know how busy you are, that’s all.”
In the end I think I convinced her, which is a bit of a drag as now I’ve got to lumber home with waterproof panties for Libbs. Hey ho. What sacrifices I make for the SG. I’ve almost forgotten what he looks like.
10:05 a.m.
I’ve remembered what he looks like. Yum yum yum.
1:00 p.m.
Miss Selfridge changing room. I tried on a size twelve T-shirt and I couldn’t get it on. Jas (very loudly) said, “I think your breasts are definitely getting bigger, you know.”
This was in the packed communal changing room and everyone looked round.
I said, “Er…Jas…I think there is someone in Australia who might not have heard you properly.”
Rosie and Ellen met us in Luigi’s coffee bar. I told them about The Stiff Dylans gig and my plan vis-a-vis Dave the Laugh. Rosie was eating the foam from her coffee with a spoon and slurping. So was Ellen. It was stereo foam slurping. After ten years had gone by Rosie said, with the spoon in her mouth which was very unattractive but I didn’t say…anyway, she said, “So you’re going to the gig so that you can get off with Dave the Laugh and that will make the SG into an elastic band?”
How difficult can life be? Very, very difficult, that’s how. I said patiently (well, at least without hitting her), “Yes, yes, thrice yes!!!”
More slurping. She was obviously thinking about my masterplan (or mistressplan actually, as I had thought of it and I am a girlie). Then she said, “Can I borrow your brown leather boots?”
4:00 p.m.
Lugged home Libby’s waterproof nick-nacks. All quiet on the home front when I got in. Where was everyone?
9:30 p.m.
Early to bed, early to rise, makes a…whatsit.
10:00 p.m.
I may wear some false eyelashes for the gig. I must be careful though, last time I tried them the glue tube burst and I couldn’t get my eyes apart for twenty minutes.
Tuesday September 21st
4:15 p.m.
Boring day apart from when Wet Lindsay got her bag caught on her foot and fell up the science-block stairs.
11:00 p.m.
Libby in bed with me. I don’t know why she can’t sleep the right way up, her feet keep poking me in the eye.
11:10 p.m.
I wonder what Dave the Laugh looks like?
Friday September 24th
Morning break
11:00 a.m.
Ellen told me that her brother and his mates go out on “cat patrol”.
I said, “Do they really like cats, then?”
She said, “No, him and his mates are the cat patrol and they go out looking for birds…you know, chicks…girls.”
Good Lord.
Lunchtime
12:30 p.m.
Ellen says that her brother also calls breasts “nunga-nungas”.
I know I shouldn’t have asked but somehow I just had to.
Ellen said, “Well, he says that if you get hold of a breast and pull it out and then let it go…it goes nunga-nunga-nunga!”
I may be forced to become either a celibate or a lesbian.
Afternoon break
2:30 p.m.
Me and Ellen were sitting in the loos with our feet up against the back of the doors, so that the Hitler Youth (prefects) wouldn’t know we were in there and send us into the torrential rain. The Hitler Youth call it a “slight shower”. They’d still say that if the First Years were being swept to their deaths by tidal waves. Or if Elvis’s hut was bobbing along with a sail up, or…anyway, who cares what they say?
I said to Ellen through the cubicle wall, “Is your brother a bit on the mad side?”
I could hear her crunching her crisps. She thought about it. “No, he’s quite a laugh, really. He calls going to the loo ‘going to the piddly-diddly department’.”
I could hear her through the wall, laughing and choking. I just sat there staring at the loo door. After a bit she controlled herself and said, “If he’s going to the loo to do number twos he says, ‘I’m just off to the poo-parlour division’.” And she was off, wheezing and choking again. Sacré bleu. I am surrounded by les idiots.
3:30 p.m.
If it’s cold, Ellen’s hilarious brother says it is “nippy noodles”.
4:15 p.m.
Walked home. Thinking about the difference between girls and boys. For instance, when girls walk home we put on lippy and make-up. We chat. Sometimes we pretend to be hunchbacks. But that is it. Perfectly normal behaviour. When the Foxwood boys come out they hit each other, trip one another up and stuff leaves or caps down each other’s trousers. Ellen told me that sometimes her brother sets fire to his farts.
On the way to my house we passed through the park. There is a park Elvis. He is supposed to be the park keeper but mainly he prods at things with a pointy stick. Oh and his second job is to yell, “I can see you!” at innocent snoggers in bushes.
We hung around on the swings for a bit just to annoy Park Elvis. Rosie (who by the way, since the flaming fringe incident is an ex-smoker) said she had made it up with Sven her Swedish boyfriend. She fell out with him because he said to her parents, “Thank you for your daughter, she is, how you say? Jah…a great SNOG.”
I said, “How can you tell he’s sorry? No one can usually understand a word he says.”
And she said, “He knitted me a nose warmer.”
It’s really not worth asking.
Ellen said, “What about Dave the Laugh?”
I said, “What about him?”
“Well, do you really fancy him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what he looks like.”
“Well, what is the point, then?”
“Well, he’s like…erm…a red herring. In my elastic band strategy.”
They all looked at me. I
t was no use them all looking at me like I know what I am talking about. I’ll be the last one to know what I am talking about, believe me.
4:30 p.m.
My so-called private bedroom.
Angus was in my bed. I suspect not alone. I daren’t lift the cover in case it’s like in that film where there was a chopped-off horse’s head in the bed.
6:07 p.m.
Lying on the floor on cushion but at least Angus is nice and comfy. In Mum’s Cosmo it says, “Buddhism is the new optimism.”
Okey-doky. That’s what I’m going to do. Be a cheery Buddhist. Om hahaha om.
Monday September 27th
Sports
2:50 p.m.
It’s windy and rainy. Naturally these two facts mean that Miss Stamp our games mistress (who is definitely Hitler reincarnated in a gym skirt…she even has the little black moustache)…Anyway, these two facts mean that Adolfa has decided that the best thing we can do is…play hockey outside!!! I’d write to the newspapers to complain but I’ll probably drown out on the hockey pitch.
In bed
9:30 p.m.
Brrr. If I have pneumonia and die and never get to number ten on the snogging scale I’ll blame Adolfa. Just because she doesn’t have a life. Even now I’m only just getting feeling back in my bottom.
10:30 p.m.
When Mum said goodnight I took my opportunity and said, casually, “Mum, can I go and stay round at Jas’s on Wednesday night? Her mum says it’s OK if it’s OK with you. We’re doing a science project together…I mean me and Jas not me and Jas’s mother– that would be stupid.”
(Shut up, shut up now. Leave it! Don’t babble on, she’ll get suspicious and you will say something really stupid.)
Mum said, “You don’t usually do your homework, Gee. This is a bit of a change of heart.”
“Hahahaha– yeah right…I…” (Careful, careful, don’t say anything stupid.) “…I…thought I might be a scientist.” (Too late, she’s bound to rumble me now!)
“A scientist– not a backing singer, then?”
“No.”
“Hmmm.”
“So can I?”
“Oh yes, I suppose so. Night-night.”
Result!!!!!! Yesssss!!!!
Wednesday September 29th
Operation Elastic Band
Kitchen
8:00 a.m.
I grabbed a piece of toast and mumbled, “I’m off now, see you tomorrow night.”
It's OK, I'm Wearing Really Big Knickers! Page 7