Love Is a Many Trousered Thing

by Louise Rennison

  She is a sophisticate and no mistake. Tom waved us off and Jas cried and blew him kisses. What has she got to cry about? She hasn’t been in the mangle of love like me.

  Miss Wilson is delirious with excitement, her bob is practically dropping off. As we drove off, she stood up and said to us all, “Now then, girls, just to get us in the mood, shall we sing a few songs? What about ten green bottles?”

  Is she mad?

  But then we discovered that we had a bus-driving Mr. Attwood at the wheel, because he said to her, “There is no singing on the bus, madam, without the full permission of the vehicle transportation facilitator.”

  Miss Wilson said, “Erm, well, when, er, who is the vehicle, erm, facilitator?”

  Mr. Grumpy Arse said, “Me.”

  And Miss Wilson said, “Well can we, erm, would it be alright for us to sing a few songs to…”

  He just said, “No,” and accelerated so hard that Miss Wilson fell over and onto Herr Kamyer’s knee.

  We all went “Whey hey!!!”

  an hour later

  I told the ace gang about the Robbie evening.

  They were all going “Oh that is so sad” and so on. And it was.

  Even Jas put her arm round me. I gave her a little brave smile.

  It is quite tough being a boy magnet, actually. More tiring than you would think.

  Then Jas said, “Well I hope you have done the right thing. If Masimo decides you are too silly to go out with, you will be on the shelf of life again.”

  I didn’t even bother replying to her, she is so annoying. I just pulled her stupid outdoors camping hat down over her eyes.

  half an hour later

  In the middle of nowhere in the middle of a field. What is the point of that? Jas is practically skipping around with excitement. She went off to “explore” in the woods. Or Twig heaven, as some people might call it.

  I went to look at the bathroom facilities.

  ten minutes later

  I said to the ace gang, “I will not be going for a poo for the next two days and that is a fact.”

  The “bathroom facilities” are some chemical toilets and a sort of overhead tap that is supposed to be a “shower” in some crap hut thing. I wouldn’t be surprised if a pig pops its head up the lavatory pan when you sit down. Not that I will be sitting down.

  I said to Miss Wilson, “This is inhumane treatment of youth. I want to make a complaint to the European Court of Human Rights, get them on the blower.”

  Miss Wilson said, “Well, of course, yes things are rather basic. But that is half the fun of it. I remember when I was a girl, we went camping and there were no toilet facilities at all. We had to take our little spades and dig a hole in the woods for our bowel movements.”

  Oh oh, Miss Wilson had mentioned her poo in front of me!!! I feel abused and dirty.

  an hour later

  Rosie and Jools and I are still trying to put the sodding tent up. I said to Herr Kamyer (who is sitting on a deck chair outside his tent, which even has a sort of awning over the opening), “Herr Kamyer, as you are so gut at putting stuff up, why don’t you put ours up?”

  And he said, “I zink it vill be more satisfactory for you if you achieve this thing yourself. It is gut for the personality.”

  Well he is very very wrong if he thinks that the fact that you can put a tent up is good for your personality. For instance, the people who have put their tents up are him, Miss Wilson and Jas. That speaks volumes in my book.

  Jas is incredibly irritating, even for her. And that is really saying something. She is scampering around like a fool, and doing her teacher botty kissing thing. She said to Herr Kamyer, “Herr Kamyer, shall I go foraging for firewood for the fire?”

  And he said, “Vat a gut idea, Jas. Do you know the right kind of vood to look for?”

  Jas said, “Ooh yes, Herr Kamyer, Tom, well, he’s my boyfriend, we often have fires when we go out rambling. In fact we went on a special fire-making course, so actually I can make a fire without matches.”

  I felt like shouting, WHO CARES??? JUST PUT OUR BLOODY TENT UP FOR US, YOU TWIGGY TWIT!!!

  half an hour later

  At last we have got our tent up and are sitting in it. Is this it? Is this what people go on and on about? Sitting in a pokey thing looking at a field?

  ten minutes later

  God I’m bored. When’s tea?

  I went over to Jas’s tent and knocked on the flap. Which I thought was amusing. Jas popped her head through the gap.

  “What do you want? Your tent looks a bit of a funny shape.”

  I said, “Don’t start me on things that look a bit of a funny shape, Jas. What are you doing in your tent? What are we supposed to do? Let me see.”

  She said, “Well, be careful where you put your big fat feet, it’s all nice and organized in here.”

  Blimey. They really did have personal toothbrush mugs.

  Jas said, “I’ve already found a great crested newt in one of the pools by the river.”

  I looked at her ironically, but she didn’t get it.

  Babbling on and on like Lord Baden-Powell.

  “Miss Wilson took a microscope with us to the pools and there were some hydra around the edge and—”

  I interrupted her, “Jas, I believe I may have mentioned that I am not interested in great crusted newts.”

  “Crested.”

  “Whatever. Crusted, toasted, fried—I am and will always remain a newt-free area. Have you got any snacks stashed around your person? I’m really peckish.”

  I made her give me one of her secret Jammy Dodgers, which she had hidden inside her owl pillowcase. Honestly.

  darkness falls on the camping fiasco

  As it got toward dusk, Herr Kamyer and Miss Wilson started busily getting pans out and lit a fire.

  Miss Wilson said, “Girls, you will notice that Herr Kamyer has made a fire break between the fire and the meadow. One must always be aware of the danger of forest fires in high summer.”

  Oh yes indeedy, forest fires are high on my list of worries. Has she any idea what my luuurve life is like?

  half an hour later

  Actually I hate to say this, but it really is quite good fun sitting round the old campfire eating spangleferkel and beans from tin plates. I don’t know why, but I felt a rawhide moment coming on.

  I said that to Rosie and Jools. “I feel a touch of the cowboy coming on.”

  Rosie said, “Oo-er, shall we do a bit of cattle rustling after supps to fill in the long hours until we can get back to civilization and snogging?”

  I said, “Alrighty.”

  So we are going to skip off and find some cows to rustle after our fruit tarts. Leave it.

  fifteen minutes later

  Us “campers” were all sitting around the fire as some of the eager beavers, i.e. twits and fools, went to wash the plates in the river. Jas was of course one of them. Laughing and giggling and saying stuff like, “Why, isn’t that a meadowlark? And I think I spotted a badger trail. It will be exciting to watch for them tonight.” Absolute tosh. Why is she so happy in the outdoors? Perhaps she has a touch of the wild pig in her gene bank. When everything was stashed away in stashing land, Herr Kamyer said, “Now then, girls, ve haf now the entertainment.”

  I said, “Yes, I was wondering where the TV would be plugged in.”

  Herr Kamyer said, “Nein, we have something sehr better, besides which I haf not got any equipment.”

  Oh we laughed. I must be giddy with crying and fresh air because I couldn’t stop hooting with laughter for ages. Whilst Herr Kamyer just looked at us in bewilderment.

  “Vat is the joke about? Why when I say I haf no equipment do you laugh? Anyway, for ze entertainment, Miss Wilson has brought some cocoa tins and we vill fill them with der rice like so.”

  He got a tin and filled it with rice and then Miss Wilson started filling other ones. Then the worst thing in the world happened. They started shaking them like maracas and singing �
��Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport.” By Rolf Harris.

  Oh it was awful.

  When they tried to get everyone to join in, shaking the tins and so on, I said, “Well I am just going see what the cows are doing on this fine evening.”

  Rosie and Jools leapt to their feet saying, “We’ll come. We’ll come.”

  ten minutes later

  We couldn’t find any cows. Well actually there were some, but the field was about a hundred miles away. Anyway I didn’t want to see them really, I just wanted to rustle them.

  There were some dozy-looking sheep nearer, though, so we went into their field. Blimey, sheep poo a lot. Like little pellet things. Angus would love it here, things to chase and annoy, poo, sausages, tiny innocent voley things to massacre. Cat heaven.

  Rosie has decided to “improvise” cattle rustling using the sheep and her wedding horns.

  eight minutes later

  Rosie strapped the bison horns onto a sheep with some of her tights and she is attempting to ride it like a sort of mustang. The sheep stands there in its horns and when Rosie gets nearly on it, just shuffles away a bit. She came at it from its bottom end and managed to stay on it for a second before plunging into some sheep poo. What hilarious country larks we are having.

  9:00 p.m.

  Surely it must be time for bed now? The sheep were no fun. In the end they just huddled together at the far end of the field. How dim can animals be? We headed back for the campfire because we had nothing else to do. The nearest village is about an hour away and that is probably full of the elderly insane.

  9:12 p.m.

  After the excitement of the singing fiasco, the atmosphere really hotted up because for our further “entertainment” Herr Kamyer started doing shadow animals in his tent with a lamp. He said people couldn’t get enough of it when he went camping in the Black Forest. Do we know any German comedians? “No” is the answer you are searching for. Anyway, live and let live, I say. Herr Kamyer would make the shape and then we would have to guess what it was. Jas was keen as mustard, she got the rabbit, and the eagle, etc. On and on it went. I don’t know how anyone knew what animals they were supposed to be when it was clearly just Herr Kamyer’s hands.

  9:20 p.m.

  Then he said from inside his tent, “I zink that is enough, girls, I finish now.”

  And he reached to get something from his haversack. You could see him all silhouetted in the tent. I shouted out, “Erm, an elephant.”

  He said, “Ach no I haf now finished, I am not making the animals anymore.”

  And he came out of his tent with his toothbrush.

  Rosie said, “A llama on holiday.”

  Herr Kamyer started going over to the “bathroom facilities.”

  “Nein, nein, I have finished now.”

  As he went into the facilities I yelled, “A Koch!”

  But he didn’t hear me.

  Jas did, though. Jas, representative for the Wildlife of Great Britain club, said, “You are being silly, Georgia. I’m off to the hide now to see if I can see any badgers. Anyone want to come with me?”

  Is she insane?

  two minutes later

  Actually, amazingly some people did go with her.

  Is it time for bed yet?

  Rosie, Jools and I went into our tent and got into our sleeping bags. The tent is a bit droopy and saggy. I couldn’t actually see Rosie in her sleeping bag because of the droopy bit in the middle. And she is next to me. Ah well.

  I will never be able to sleep for all the hooting and scurrying going on. And that’s just Jas….

  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

  midnight

  The tent collapsed. I woke up struggling with what felt like a big duvet and couldn’t see a thing. I could hear muffled voices and Rosie saying, “I’ve gone blind, I’ve gone blind!!!”

  Eventually we managed to get free of the tent and stood shivering in our pajamas. All the other tents were in darkness and I could hear snoring from Miss Wilson’s tent. I wonder what she sleeps in? Can you get corduroy pajamas? Well if anyone can, she can.

  I said, “I’m not going through all that putting-the-tent-up-again fiasco. We will have to crawl in with our best mateys.”

  ten minutes later

  Jas is sooooooo unreasonable. We crawled into her tent and I tried to squeeze into her sleeping bag with her, but she wouldn’t let me. Then Rosie trod on the special toothbrush mug and all hell broke loose.

  12:30 a.m.

  In the end, Mrs. Grumpy Knickers and her gang put our tent back up again just to get rid of us. It wasn’t as droopy this time. Jas said, “You had the main tent pole in the wrong place.”

  So? What is that supposed to mean?

  1:00 a.m.

  I am dying to go to the loo. I made Rosie come with me. Pooooooooo. How horrible is it sitting on a sort of box full of stinky stuff in a tent? Vair vair horrible. It makes Gordy’s kitty litter box seem like luxury.

  saturday july 30th

  morning

  What a racket: birds chirping, cows mooing, sheep bleating. People jogging. Oh yes. That is a sight for sore eyes first thing in the morning, Miss Wilson and Herr Kamyer in their running shorts. Good Lord.

  I looked in my mirror. Yep, tent head.

  I don’t care, though, as this is deffo a Sex God–free zone.

  afternoon

  An action-packed day full of getting up, eating more sausages, having to play a game of rounders. Actually I must say I did quite enjoy that—I socked the ball into a marshy bit and Jas had to go and get it.

  She said to me, “You did that on purpose.”

  And I said, “Don’t be so silly, Jas.”

  And then next time I was in, I smacked the ball into exactly the same place. Zut alors!!!

  Herr Kamyer showed us how to make a hammock and Miss Wilson told us how to identify poisonous fruits of the forest, which she couldn’t find, and ended up having to show us pictures of in a book.

  I said to Ellen and the gang, “The whole forest can be poisonous for all I care. I will never be coming into the wilderness again anyway.”

  Rosie and I managed to escape the forced march to the newt pond by slipping off and finding a tree that we could climb and hide in. We hoisted ourselves up and we could look down at the “merry campers” scampering around looking at stuff and drawing it. How anyone can be interested in drawing amoebas—I will never know. Why would you bother coming miles and miles into Nowheresville when you could get much the same effect at home drawing some snot?

  3:00 p.m.

  It was nice and dreamy up in the tree, actually; the sun was lovely and warm and we could stretch out on a branch in our shorts. I could do tanning work, so at least I wasn’t completely wasting my time. Rosie was plaiting her hair into tiny little plaits.

  I said to her, “It makes you look like a halfwit.”

  And she said, “Really? It looks that nice?”

  Then she started missing Sven.

  “Are my lips shrinking?”

  I looked at them.

  “No.”

  “They feel like they are. I’ve been snogging Sven every day for months.”

  I said, “Don’t you do anything else?”

  Rosie looked at me.

  “Of course we do.”

  “What?”

  “Pardon?”

  “What do you do?”

  “We make things—furry shorts, Viking drinking boots and so on. It’s not an easy life being the bride-to-be of a Viking, you know,” and she fished out her beard and put it on.

  Just then we heard some voices and had to shut up so that no one would see us. We could see down through the leaves. It was Miss Wilson and Herr Kamyer. Both in shorts. Good grief.

  Herr Kamyer said, “It is ver varm nicht var?”

  Miss Wilson was dithering about with a towel, and said, “Yes indeed, I think I’ll have a refreshing shower.” And she bounded off to the “bathroom facilities.”

  Herr Kamyer busied
himself with his magnifying glass. I think he was trying to start a fire with it. What is the point of that?

  Rosie whispered, “I do hope he sets fire to his shorts.”

  five minutes later

  Some of the merry campers have come back from the newt pond and are having another game of rounders. Nauseating P. Green, who has been keeping a low profile this weekend, thank the Lord, is a fielder out by the bathroom facility.

  I said to Rosie quietly, “I don’t want to be mean or anything, but Nauseating P. Green is unusually unusual-looking.”

  Rosie stopped plaiting for a minute to look. “Please let her fall over. There’s nothing funnier than seeing her trying to get up again.”

  At which point Melanie Griffiths socked the rounders ball really hard over to where N. P. Green was on fielding duties. Melanie ran for first base, and even Herr Kamyer stopped setting fire to things to look up. As I may have mentioned before, Melanie’s nunga-nungas have a life of their own when she’s running.

  I said to Rosie, “Any minute now she will come careening past us and into the woods.”

  Everyone was shouting at N. P. Green. “Catch the ball, four eyes, catch it!”

  I said, “She can’t even see the ball. The ball would have to be the size of her arse to see it through those glasses.”

  At which point the funniest thing known to humanity happened.

  N. P. Green was running backward, trying to catch where she thought the ball might be, and she crashed into the bathroom facility. Half of the bathroom facility (also known as a piece of old tent) collapsed around her, to reveal Miss Wilson blinking out from underneath the shower.

  Rosie and I nearly fell out of the tree.

  three minutes later

  My ribs hurt from laughing. Seeing Miss Wilson in the nuddy-pants, apart from a spotted shower cap, is possibly the sight of the century. She just stood there blinking in the sun with her soap on a rope.

  Rosie said, “Cor!”

  ten minutes later

  Miss Wilson managed to crawl under the rest of the bathroom facility and has just come out with her clothes on.

  As she came out, Herr Kamyer walked quickly into the woods.

  five minutes later

  I said to Rosie, “Imagine if it had been Slim.”

  Rosie said, “No.”

  ten minutes later