Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me?

  Also Radio Jas tells me that there has been a change of plan cinema-experiencewise. I can’t decide if it is good or bad.

  Or a combo of good and bad. Goba. Or maybe even bago. Depending how you look at it. Shut up, brain.

  Rosie’s parents have gone away for the night and she is planning on having the cinema experience at her place.

  Hmmmmm.

  I phoned her and said, “When you say ‘cinema experience,’ what exactly do you mean by that?”

  She said, “You know what I mean, my little pally. All of us in the dark, snogging and eating popcorn.”

  I said, “Yes, but the added mystery ingredient in the usual ‘cinema experience’ is that there is a film on.”

  Rosie assures me that there will be a film on, a “special” film. But she won’t tell me what it is as she wants it to be a “lovely surprise.”

  Now I am frightened.

  And I can’t quite be sure that Dave the Laugh will be there. And I can’t ask anyone to check. If I ask Radio Jas and say, “Please will you not tell anyone I am asking, just use subtlenosity,” Dave would be on the blower within five minutes saying, “Why do you want me to come to the cinema experience? Can’t you resist my Magnetic Horn?”

  What shall I do if he isn’t there? I will be the goosegog fool of all time. But I can’t just leave if he’s not there because otherwise that looks like I really meant to see him.

  And then the cat would be out of the bag.

  Racing down the hill with the bag over its head.

  Why is it in the bag, anyway?

  Speaking of cats, when I went down to the kitchen for a soothing plate of cheesy wotsits to calm my nerves, Angus was playing with his tartan toy mousy.

  He was biffing toy mousy with one paw and then biffing him back with the other. Then picking him up by his neck and shaking him.

  Then he biffed toy mousy really hard and it went under the fridge.

  Angus started trying to reach under with his paw. But he couldn’t reach. Then he started his croaky miaowing and the looking at me pathetically fiasco.

  three minutes later

  I was chomping away on the cheesies. I must keep my strength up for my maybe goosegogging experience tonight.

  one minute later

  Angus was still trying to reach toy mousy and still looking pathetically at me.

  two minutes later

  Oh, I can’t stand this.

  I lay down on the floor and put my arm under the fridge to try to reach toy mousy. Angus was pressing my bottom with his paw as I was doing it. Sort of encouraging me, I suppose.

  two minutes later

  It’s right at the back. I can sort of touch it with my fingers, but I can’t reach it to pull it out.

  two minutes later

  I got the washing-up brush and nearly got it.

  Oh, bloody hell, it’s gone a bit farther back.

  three minutes later

  Just about got it.

  Just a centimeter or two more.

  one minute later

  Got it!!!

  Stood up. Blimey, I’m a bit dizzy.

  I said to Angus, “There you are, now don’t…”

  He’s just biffed it straight back under the fridge.

  And started his croaky miaowing and looking thing.

  6:30 p.m.

  When I went back in the kitchen for more cheesy wotsits, Mum was down on the floor scrabbling under the fridge for toy mousy.

  I didn’t say anything.

  6:45 p.m.

  She’s got it out.

  6:46 p.m.

  He’s biffed it back under the fridge again.

  7:00 p.m.

  Libby is being taken over to Grandvati’s because Mum and Dad are going out on a “date.” Which is sad. They even said “date.” Erlack.

  As I was setting off to Rosie’s “cinema experience,” Vati was faffing around adjusting his fur steering wheel. I tried to just sneak off past him but he spotted me and said, “Have a nice time, but you won’t be having as nice a time as us because your mother and I are off to paint the town red.”

  I said, “Don’t you mean beige?”

  And just for a moment I caught sight of my dear old dad, the dad I know and…well, the dad I knew. He went all red and ballistic looking and started shouting, “You’re not bloody funny, and what time will you be in? Because I am telling you this for free….”

  Then he sort of stopped himself as Mum came out all tarted up and forced this very scary smile on his face. I watched while he opened the mirthmobile door for her and put Libby in the back.

  Then I watched as Libby did a bit of kicking of the car seats and shouting. “Me want Bum-ty, me want Bum-ty!!! Go get her, Big Uggy!!!!”

  And Dad went back into the house and came out with Bum-ty in her cage. Bum-ty seems to have fewer and fewer feathers. And she has gone off her Trill.

  I’m not surprised with the twenty-four-hour cat staring that goes on.

  Tonight Angus even managed to get on top of Bum-ty’s cage. Even though Dad has fixed it to the light fitting and it’s suspended from the ceiling.

  Angus must have used the sofa as a launch pad, leapt up the curtains and hurled himself onto the cage from there. In a Devil take the hindmost kat-i-kaze diving episode. It’s only because his paws are so huge that he couldn’t get them through the bars.

  7:15 p.m.

  Anyway, at last the Swiss Family Mad streaked off at one mile an hour.

  Some people live life in the fast lane. My dad lives life in the bus lane.

  As I strolled along, I nearly caught up with them. I had to take really tiny steps to avoid walking alongside.

  at rosie’s

  Sven answered the door in an usherette’s uniform. If you can imagine that. It’s not easy, I know. He had a sort of miniskirt on with platform boots. And a lot of eye shadow and lippy.

  Not expertly applied I have to say.

  Sofas and chairs were arranged in front of their big-screen TV and Rosie was in charge of popcorn. I say in charge. What I mean is she was stoking up the popcorn maker, a duck that made popcorn that came shooting out of its beak.

  The ace gang were all there by the time I arrived. Hons, Jools, Ellen, Mabs and Sophie, all snuggling up to their “boyfriends” already.

  It was so crowded, I even wondered if the Little Titches might pop up from behind something. I’m not kidding. I wouldn’t be surprised. If they have even a whiff (half a whiff) that Dave the Laugh might be in the area, they would be scampering around trying to get near to him.

  Is he in the area, though?

  fourteen minutes later

  No sign of Dave the Laugh.

  Goosegog land was approaching.

  Oh God, this was going to be horrific.

  Even now it was horrific and the film hadn’t even started.

  The one hilarious moment was when Ellen did the classic bobbing around like a pigeon wondering which side to put her head for the snog.

  Maybe I could pretend I had a sudden pressing piddly-diddly scenario and sneak out through the bathroom window.

  Just then the doorbell rang. Sven the usherette went to answer it and carried in Dave the Laugh.

  Dave said, “I like a big girl.”

  I didn’t say anything. I felt a bit shy actually. And sort of nervy.

  Dave got his popcorn and then came and sat down next to me.

  I have to say, even though I am not interested in this sort of thing, that he looked, well, quite fit. For a matey-type mate.

  The film was the sing-along version of The Sound of Music.

  No, I am not kidding.

  Sven (the usherette) introduced it by saying, “This is a film about the untergarments. We are haffing the singing about pants and the lederhosen. Let’s groove!”

  And then he switched the lights out.

  We were plunged into complete darkness. Everyone was going, “Oo-er.” And “Phwoooaar,” etc., for a bit.

  Then, in the dark
ness, Dave the Laugh said loudly, “Oy, Georgia, is that your hand on my knee, you cheeky, cheeky minx?”

  What what???

  It turned out to be Sven’s hand. Sven was crawling around trying to find the control for the screen.

  We sang, we ate popcorn. The film even had the bouncing ball lyrics because it was the sing-along one.

  It should have been crapnosity personified, but it was not.

  And the best thing was that the goosegog factor was vair low because no one really had any time for snogging.

  My ribs really, really did hurt from laughing so much. Sometimes we reversed the film so that we could get the song. We sang them all:

  “The Hills Are Alive with the Sound of Pants.”

  “Idlepants,” as I have said many, many times, is one of my all-time hits.

  Rosie said, “I am deffo going to have songs from The Sound of Music at my Viking wedding. The Vikings love a bit of yodeling.”

  I had hoped we had heard the last of Rosie and Sven’s Viking wedding fiasco.

  It was after midnight before we came out. When we got to the end of Rosie’s road, the rest of them walked off because they all lived in the same direction. They were yelling, “Pants for the memory!”

  “Gute Nacht, Volltrottel!”

  “Abschiedskuss all round!”

  Till there was only Dave and me left.

  It was a lovely soft night and as we walked along, I felt all warm and yummy inside.

  Dave said, “I’ll walk back along your way in case you are attacked by voles.”

  I said, “Fanks.”

  We didn’t link up or anything and walked a bit apart. You know, in a sort of matey way. I think.

  Then Dave said, “Well, I don’t know what you think, missus, but I thought that was quite literally a hoot and a half. I thought your yodeling in ‘The Lonely Goatherd’ was, well, good is not the word.”

  I said, “Oy, mate, I have practiced yodeling for weeks. Libby makes me read Heidi at least four times a day.”

  As we got near my house, Dave said, “Ah well, better say Auf Wiedersehen, pet.”

  And we both stood looking at each other in the half-light.

  He has got the most dreamy eyes. I don’t know what it is, but I always feel like I could look at him for ages and ages. (Not in an Angus and Gordy looking at Bum-ty way.)

  I don’t know how much time went by because for once my brain froze.

  I sort of felt like Baby Jesus, all full of love.

  Dave put his hand on my face and just gently stroked it. Then he traced his finger around my mouth.

  Oh no, stop puckering!!!

  He looked down at me still with his finger on my lips and said, “I don’t know what it is about you, kittykat, but for me you are the most beautiful girl in the world.”

  Then he kissed me, just a little kiss.

  I sort of reached up to kiss him back, but he stepped back then and pulled his coat collar up.

  He breathed in really deeply and then cleared his throat and said, “Hmmm, that was a bit unexpected…but, anyway, dig you later.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Or do.

  I just stood there.

  I wanted to do all sorts of things. Grab him, run away, laugh uncontrollably. Snog, go to the loo, do a bit of the flame dance. I don’t know!!!! Who is in control here?

  As I dithered around, he walked off home.

  When I got in, Mum and Dad were still up. And they weren’t alone. Uncle Eddie was there. He’s just “popped” by after a baldy-o-gram night. He hasn’t been round much since the undercrackers at midnight scenario. Dad said they were “letting things cool down” neighborwise.

  I said, “Why, are you pretending that you and Uncle Eddie are not gay?”

  Anyway, sadly, they seem to be together again.

  As I tried to scamper upstairs, Uncle Eddie said, “This is one for you, Georgia. A man goes to the doctor and says, ‘I keep thinking I’m a cartoon character. One day I’m Mickey Mouse, this morning I was convinced I was Bambi.’ And the doctor says, ‘It sounds to me like you’re having Disney spells.’”

  I looked at him as he rocked and hooted with laughter, going, “Do you see??? Do you see…Disney spells!!!”

  What is the point of Uncle Eddie?

  in bed

  1:00 a.m.

  Blimey.

  Well, the “cinema experience” turned out to be a hoot and a half. The laughter, the pants, the yodeling.

  one minute later

  The nearly accidentally snogging Dave the Laugh AGAIN!!!

  What in the name of arse is going on?

  two minutes later

  What about Masimo?

  I think I may have a touch of guiltosity.

  two minutes later

  Although I don’t know why I should have guiltosity, I haven’t really done anything wrong as such. Involuntary puckering is not a capital offense.

  one minute later

  In fact, I will probably mention it in a lighthearted way to the Luuurve God.

  You know, tell him what larks we had at the “cinema experience.”

  two minutes later

  Although explaining the “Idlepants” thing might take the rest of my life, given that I can’t even say “What time is it?” in Italian.

  Oh, I am just a crazy, mixed-up kid!!! It’s not fair. If you look at the relativitosity of time and pretend that my life is a big clock…and I’m at three o’clock, it’s only about five minutes since I first learned to do my shoes up at kindergarten. And so how come I am supposed to be an expert at relationships???

  I only started snogging last year. (Half past two.)

  Shut up about the clock fiasco!!!!

  I didn’t even have any basoomas eighteen months ago…(i.e., quarter to one…shut up, shut up, brain!!!).

  I was practically just a nose on legs.

  two minutes later

  Ooohhh. I’m never going to be able to go to sleep now.

  I wonder if Dave is feeling the same.

  I hope he is because it’s his fault. He snogged me. I only did accidental puckering up.

  It was him who said I was beautiful.

  Am I?

  Had a look in the mirror.

  Erm, well, as I said, I have sort of grown into my nose, but I don’t exactly as such look like a supermodel.

  Perhaps boys like all sorts of girls, not just supermodelly types.

  Dad likes Mum, for instance, and does not think she looks like a mad prostitute.

  In fact, he is very bloody keen on her these days.

  I wonder if she is putting something in his food?

  five minutes later

  I’m going to count sheep to get to sleep.

  three minutes later

  Oh buggeration, the sheep keep changing into Masimo, and then Dave, and then Robbie, and then Masimo and then two Daves. And then Dave with a clown nose on, leaping over the fence. And then Masimo with a handbag. Then Dave and Masimo fighting and leaping over the fence.

  I will never ever sleep again. I zzzzzzzzzzz-zzzzzzzzzzz.

  i may have a slight fence burn

  sunday october 2nd

  Yipppeee, I persuaded Mum to take Angus to the kittykat park! I told her that he luurves his cousins and he’s going to be a really good kittykat.

  two minutes later

  Mum has gone ballistic because Angus was going on and on, miaowing and rubbing round her legs. Tripping her up when she tried to walk anywhere. He’s had his food so she put some water down for him in his bowl. He looked at it and then instead of lapping it up, he leapt in it and splashed it all over the floor and her.

  She tried to chuck him out, but he ran off into the front room and he’s managed to get himself into the back of the armchair.

  She said, “He’s not coming with us.”

  I said, “Mum, he’s excited. He is hearing the call of the wild.”

  She said, “Go and get his lead. I’m putting my gardening gloves on.?
??

  We eventually got Angus out of the armchair and on his lead. It was all going quite well until he had a spontaneous spaz attack and wound himself round and round my legs….

  When Pippy turned up in her car, Mum said to Dad, “You don’t mind not coming, do you, Bob? Perhaps you could fix the shed roof this afternoon. I would be so thrilled if you did.”

  I looked at her in an “Are you mad?” way.

  As if Dad will agree to that. The last time he fixed a ceiling, he went into the attic to have a look, walked in between the rafters and there were his big fat footprints there forever.

  To my absolute amazement, he gave her a big kiss on the mouth (oh dear God) and said, “Alright, my queen. Missing you already.”

  As we got in the car, I said to Mum, “Is Dad on drugs?”

  And Mum said, “No, but the whole thing I have learned from Madame Betty is—”

  I said, “Mum, can I just stop you there. If this is anything to do with boiled eggs and so on, I would rather not know.”

  She didn’t take any notice of me, but just went on chatting to Pippy about stuff they had learned in their stupid workshop thingy.

  I was trying not to listen because it was making me feel a bit queasy. Stuff about thinking you are the sexiest woman alive, etc. Telling yourself how gorgeous you are.

  On and bloody on.

  When Mum said, “Next week we are doing how to release your inner lusciousness,” I had to stuff two bits of scrumpled up paper handkerchief in my ears.

  wild park!!!

  Angus luuurved his wild cousins. The wildcat ladeeez luuurved Angus, too, the little furry minxes, lying on their backs with their girlie parts flying free.

  He really howled when we finally managed to get him away.

  To cheer him up because he was still yowling and bonking about in the car, I sang “Wild Thing” to him.

  I even improvised a little kittykat disco inferno dance.

  And I did the paw actions for him.

  He let me work his paws for a bit before he started spitting.

  home

  Dad had hit himself with the hammer, and also the door of the shed had fallen off. So an excellent result DIYwise.

  He was in a foul mood when we got in.

  I thought it was too good to last.

  It was a bit of a relief to see the Portly One back to normal.

  He was vati-ing around, moaning and limping. Which is ironic, seeing as he had hit his thumb with the hammer.