Louise Rennison - ‘…startled by his furry shorts!’

She said, “Could you tell me why you’ve got a corn plaster on your chin?”

I said, “Oh, leave me alone, will you?”

“Georgia, what is the matter with you? Seriously, you seem all worried and upset – what is it?”

And then, I don’t know what happened, but I told her. “I said to the Italian Stallion that I wanted him to be like my proper boyfriend, and he said, ‘Oh, this is a serious thing’, you know, in that really groovy accent-type thing, and then Dave the Laugh said, ‘What if you really liked someone and then you lost them’, and Jas said, ‘Wet Lindsay has got nice feet and he might like that’… maybe they do, the Italians, they are an ancient race and maybe they like feet… and then a lurking lurker situation occurred, so I got out the corn plaster… and he’s going to choose on Friday, that’s five days away… and the coup de whatsit is that the Original Sex God, whose name I will never mention this side of the grave, had his shorts on, in a river, probably showing off to his wombat friends… Oh, what is the point?”

Actually, for a complete fool and someone who tosses her nunga-nungas around with gay abandon, Mum was quite nice. And she seemed to understand.

Which I am surprised at, as I don’t know what I’m saying myself most of the time.

And I’m in my head. Sadly.

Mum gave me a kiss, and I even let her cuddle me. A bit. She said the corn plaster wouldn’t work, but she would get me some cream tomorrow that will dry the lurker up.

She said I should keep myself busy with a list of things to do until Friday so that I don’t have time to go mad.

Good idea. I will start on the list now.

This is my list:

Practise not being mad.

Mum brought Bibbs into bed with me. She was asleep, still clutching her swimming goggles and snorkel. She was also clutching the statue of Our Lord Jesus, or Sandra, as he is now called in his Barbie frock and make-up. He is Libby’s new best “fwend”. I looked at Bibbs in the half-light in my bedroom. She is so sweet when she is asleep. Her little eyelashes are long and curly and her mouth all pouty and pink. I cuddled up to her, and she turned over in her sleep and put her little arms round me. Ooooohhhhh. I said softly, “Night-night, my little sister. I love you.”

And she said sleepily, “Night-night, Ginger. I lobe you.”

Ooohhh. At least she loves me.

Then she whispered, “Ginger, I poo my jimjams, oh dear.”

After emergency removal of my pooey sister, I eventually snuggled down into my bed of pain alone. Not entirely alone because there is a bit of a residual pong and Sandra/Jesus is still in bed with me.

Woke up from a dream.

I dreamt that I had a conversation with Jesus. He had the hump because he didn’t like his frock and he said his lipstick didn’t suit his complexion. It brought out the orange in it.

I wonder if it is a message from my subconscious that I must be more religious?

The Portly One (Vati) yelled up, “Georgia, up NOW! You’ve got five minutes to get your bum down here.”

Oh, he is so crude. And how dare he take my bum’s name in vain?

My delightful little sister unexpectedly burst into my room to collect Sandra. She was wearing a see-through plastic Pacamac and some tiny tiny pants that she must have had when she was a baby. Or, more likely, she has nicked them from a poor unfortunate child at playschool. I must tell Mutti to remind the mothers not to leave their toddlers unattended when Libby’s around. She came over, quite slowly because the tiny pants were making her walk with small steps, got into bed with me and grabbed Our Lord and started to cuddle him.

I said, “I’m getting up for school now, Bibbs.”

She said, “Snuggle buggle.”

We had a bit of a cuddle and I kissed the top of her head. Is it normal to be able to snack on Rice Krispies from your little sister’s head?

Mutti came bustling in wearing a costume designed for a teenage prostitute. “Georgia, GET UP! It’s ten past eight. You’ll be late.”

I said, “Late for what? Six hours of misery at Stalag 14 being tortured by the Hitler Youth, followed by twelve hours of extreme boredom and starvation at home?”

She didn’t even listen. She said, “Don’t be so silly. You are such a drama queen.”

Is everyone’s life like this?

I wish it was Friday and I could just get it all over with. Masimo comes round and says, “I am sorry, Georgia, I cannot be your one and only one. How do you say in English language? Ah, yes… so long, loser. Loser, loser, double loser, snap snap get the picture?”

Then I could just go back to being ordinarily bored and depressed.

I grabbed a piece of toast from the kitchen to ward off death. Angus was happily chewing on something in his basket. He is better fed than me.

On the way out of the front door I heard Mum screeching like a banshee. “Bob, Bob, that horrible furry thing is eating my tights. Stop him, stop him!!! Trap him with that chair!”

Then I heard some crashing and Dad shouting and cursing. Mum hadn’t finished: “Of course you haven’t broken your leg, Bob. Anyway, never mind about that, get him… Oh bugger, now he’s in the laundry room. Oh dear God, he’s doing a poo in the ironing. That is it! They are going, they are going!!!”

Jas was on her wall with Tom when I puffed up the hill. They were looking at something in a brown paper parcel. Jas was talking in a really silly girly voice that she uses when Hunky is around. I swear to God she will be developing a lisp soon. Pathetic. She went, “Ooooooohhh, Hunky, that is soooooo interesting. Look at this, Georgia.” And she held out the brown paper bag.

There was a newt in the bag. How beyond the Valley of the Really Quite Mad and entering the World of the Certifiably Bonkers is that?

Jas said, “It’s got very unusual markings. I’m taking it into Biology to show Miss Baldwin.”

I said, “Yeah, good idea. Crawler.”

But she didn’t even notice that I’d called her a teacher’s botty-kisser because she was so busy being an idiot around her boyfriend.

Tom left us at the corner to go off to college. As he kissed her on her cheek, Jas was fiddling with her fringe so much that I thought she’d had sudden onset of rampant disco inferno dancing. At last they parted. But only after she had blown kisses at him and then he had to pretend to catch them and blow them back for about two trillion years.

She was completely lost in Jasland. “Oh, it is so so so so nice to have him back.”

I said, “Is it nice to have him back then?”

But she didn’t get it. She just started again. “Oh yes, it is so so so so nice to have him back. I could never not have a boyfriend; it would be so sad. Imagine not having a boyfriend. Oh, actually, I suppose you can imagine not having a boyfriend.”

What a cow she can be. I didn’t hit her because I think violence is wrong, and also she was walking too quickly for me to kick. I just said, “You are a very caring person, Jas. It’s almost uncanny how empathetic you are.”

“I know – do you know what? Sometimes it’s like I can actually read Tom’s thoughts.”

“Really, you mean when he’s looking at you and not saying anything, and yet you know what he is thinking?”

“Yeah, like that.”