Brilliant. Thank you, God. Not.
ten minutes later
Actually, even though I didn’t have to imagine the weary walk of someone who is very depressed, because I WAS someone who was feeling very depressed, I did begin to cheer up at the comedy opportunities of the class. The ace gang did marvelous group limping as the Hunchbacks of Notre Dame.
Miss Wilson said, “Very good, girls, but perhaps the person is not crippled, just very depressed. And perhaps depression doesn’t always involve so much dribbling. Let your imaginations flow. When I clap my hands and shout out, the next person quickly change into character…and (clap)…now be a happy slender young girl hurrying to meet her boyfriend…and CHANGE.”
Oh the cruelty of life. If God is omniwhatsit, surely he is having a laugh. At me. First a depressed person, now a young girl going off to meet her boyfriend. God pretended he didn’t mind about me not rescuing Our Lord from Libby’s toy box sooner than I did, but this is his revenge. Nauseating P. Green was skipping round like a fool. If I were her boyfriend that she was skipping to meet, I would have run off quickly to the boyfriend asylum seekers home.
Rosie was doing her famous orangutan impression. Actually it was very realistic, and it is how she goes off to meet Sven. Jas had a field day, fringe–flickingwise, and actually when she thought I wasn’t looking she was puckering and relaxing. And doing a bit of darty tongue. She is still haunted by her lip spasm fiasco. Ah well, how sad, never mind. Ellen was still sitting down on a bench dithering about. The bell will have gone before she manages to even set off to meet her imaginary boyfriend. So no change there.
Miss Wilson was encouraging people and walking round showing us what she would look like going to meet her boyfriend. (Scary, sad, and with an alarming smile on her face.) Then she said to me, “Georgia, you’re still limping. And your back is all hunched over.”
Yeah, and it’s not just on the outside.
4:30 p.m.
Walking home. Talking about the Wet Lindsay nightmare scenario.
Rosie said, “What makes you think that she knows?”
I told them what she said about the club and everything.
Rosie said, “Ah I see, say no more, say no more, wink wink, nod nod.”
And started doing the mad nodding dog thing, and chewing. They were all joining in. I was in the nodding dog parlor of life.
Jas for once came up with a sort of sensible plan. “Look, I’ll ask Tom what is going on.”
She looked at me from underneath her fringe and did quite a nice smile. “I’ll tell him to be, you know, well, not shoutey or anything.”
I almost kissed her. I said to her, “Fanks, Jas, you can be a real pally sometimes and I, well, I…”
Rosie noticed I was about to go off on a blu-bathon and said quickly, “Hey, do you know what book Tarzan wrote? Eh eh?”
We all shook our heads, expecting the worst. And we got it.
“Lord of the Swings.”
It was so crap, I must say it did make me laugh. A bit.
Jools said, “Oh by the way, I meant to tell you Katie Steadman is having another party at the weekend and we are invited.”
I don’t really feel like parties, but I suppose I have to go on being me.
friday july 1st
1:00 p.m.
Something unusually good has happened! I think. Maybe.
We normally are made to go out at lunch and freeze around in the grounds whilst the Hitler Youth loll around in the warmey warm inside. So that is why we creep back inside and lurk around the Science labs. Usually the Physics lab. So that if there is a sudden Hitler Youth investigation we can leap into the fume cupboards and pull down the blinds. And crouch there until they go out again.
As an additional security measure we crouch down underneath the windows so that we can’t be seen from outside. And we heap our Science overalls on top of us in case someone comes in and we don’t have time to do the leaping into the fume cupboard scenario and we can pretend to be a pile of Science overalls.
Actually as it happens it is absolutely boiling today. At least 180 degrees in the shade.
Ellen said, “Can’t we just go outside? Instead of you know, er, being nearly dying from heat underneath a pile of old overalls. Or something.”
The rest of the gang started nodding. I had to take a firm grip of the situation. I said, “Yes, yes, of course it would be nice sitting outside in the sunshine, maybe sunbathing and so on. But remember Good Queen Bess and so on, a principal is a principal and we will never give in to the tyrannical ways of…anyway, everyone under the Science overalls. Look natural.”
one minute later
Where was I? Oh yes, under the window. Which was open. We were just chatting about the wedding.
Rosie said, “Sven is wondering what to wear.”
I said, “Oh dear. And, anyway, why is he bothering to worry about it? It’s never going to happen. Even in five and a half year’s time.”
Rosie said, “Ah well, you have always been cynical, Georgia, that is because you have been in the oven of love too many times. But as it happens we are going to have a pracice wedding quite soon.”
“Don’t talk absolute WUBBISH.”
Rosie raised her eyebrows at me. And said, “So what do you think about flares versus lederhosen?”
We were just about to start discussing flares versus lederhosen when we heard voices and had to shut up sharpish. Especially as we realized it was Wet Lindsay and ADM. We could hear them clearly talking outside the open window. We formed ourselves into a convincing pile of Science overalls and earwigged.
ADM said, “Well, what did he actually say?”
Wet Lindsay said, “He said that he didn’t want to be serious because he had had a relationship before and he was, you know, having a break from serious relationships.”
ADM said, “What are you going to do?”
Wet Lindsay said, “Well, of course I’m going to get him to change his mind. The only slight worry is that he started saying that he had had to upset someone he really liked already, and it sounded like he meant someone here, not in Italy.
But he wouldn’t say who it was.”
ADM said, “Do you have any idea who it is?”
Then Wet Lindsay said the fateful words: “I don’t think it can be possible, because she is the most sniveling idiot I have ever come across, but…well…no, it can’t be possible. He’s not stupid enough or desperate enough.”
ADM went on, “You don’t mean…not…?”
Wet Lindsay said, “I know, it would be unbelievable, wouldn’t it? But I’m going to keep an eye out and if I see it is her, well…I just wouldn’t be her, that’s all.”
Then they went off.
Rosie stuck her head out of the overall pile and looked at me. I looked back at her and she gave me the thumbs-down: “Oh giddygodspajamas, you are dead meat. Deader than the deadest meat in a dead meat shop. Give me back your wedding invite. I’ll give it to someone who is going to be alive for the wedding.”
afternoon break
emergency ace gang meeting
I said, “Do you think she thinks it’s me?”
Jas said, “Well, it’s pretty conclusive, isn’t it? She said, ‘the most sniveling idiot I have ever come across.’”
I said, “I didn’t know that YOU had been seeing Masimo. Tom the Slug King is going to be very upset.”
That shut her up. But it didn’t shut me up. “If it is me, then that’s quite good in one way because he said he really liked the maybe it’s me person. Which is really good, isn’t it?”
Jools said, “Yes, but what if it isn’t you?”
Oh god. What if there are two sniveling idiots that he likes?
double physics
Is it me?
Is he sorry he upset me?
Oh buggeration, I am on the rack of luuurve again. Pass the agony cakes.
Physics is unusually boring today. We were doing statistics. Why? Rosie wrote me a note:
/> Guess what Slim’s vital statistics are: 84 76 84…and that is just the chin area.
I gave her my Klingon salute.
I can’t help thinking and thinking about the Wet Lindsay scenario. On the one hand, I am sooooo happy that he might be upset that he upset me, because that would mean he was upset about upsetting me. Which is bon. On the negative side, if it is me, Wet Lindsay will kill me.
But even if it is me, it still means that he is not going out with me.
But he might secretly sort of want to.
five minutes later
I need to make him see that it is me that he wants. I must take advice from the How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You book and increase my mysteriosity and glaciosity so that he can come pinging back like an elastic band. Maybe if I had a pretendy boyfriend, he would get jealous and realize the error of his ways.
five minutes later
I’ll ask Dave the Laugh what he thinks I should do.
one minute later
No, I can’t do that because of what he said about the liking business and about messing it up. Also he would start all that Pizza-a-gogo thing again and pretend that Masimo was a girl in disguise and only cared about his hair, etc.
two minutes later
But in essence, Dave the Laugh likes me.
two minutes later
And I like him. Dave the Laugh likes me, I like him. What could be more simple pimple?
one minute later
It is not like we are silly children. What is needed here is maturiosity.
Which I have in abundance. Dave and I could go out together just liking each other. That would be OK. It would be fun.
one minute later
Lots of fun.
Lots and lots of fun.
What is wrong with a boy and a girl who like each other having fun?
I like going out, Dave likes going out. We both like having fun.
I can think of all sorts of things we could do. All kinds of places we could go out to.
one minute later
We could go to, oh I don’t know, we could maybe, er…well, for instance just off the top of my head, er…well, there is a Stiff Dylans gig on in a couple of week’s time. We could say, for instance, me and Dave go there for fun.
one minute later
And dance about having fun.
one minute later
Dancing about having fun in front of Masimo and then see how he likes that!!!
two minutes later
Oh God, I have once more, in my mind, made Dave the Laugh my decoy duck.
A nip libbling decoy duck. Who is vair vair good at snogging.
But I would never use Dave like that. Not in a trillion years.
one minute later
He would suss me out, anyway.
one minute later
Unless I was full of subtletosity.
And snogged him to within an inch of his life.
two minutes later
I have got an internal red bottom that must be struck down. Get thee behind me red bottom!!!
mad headquarters
4:30 p.m.
Otherwise known as MacUseless rehearsals.
Miss Wilson gave us her “rousing” rehearsal speech, but Rosie spoiled the effect by burping really loudly. She told Miss Wilson it was “pre-performance gaseous interchange.” Let no one say that we don’t learn anything in blodge.
Funnily enough, there is no sign of Dave the Laugh. I hope he’s not got the lurgy.
five minutes later
I don’t know if it’s just me, but there is a mood of hysteria about the company today. Probably because it is only a week to the performance and no one apart from Old Swotty Knickers Jas knows their words properly.
Just as we were having to brief Spotty Norman on taking over on lights for Dave, the door crashed open and he walked in with his tie knotted round his head like a fool.
Miss Wilson started giving him her idea of a ballocking, i.e., “Well, this is really…I mean, it’s ten minutes since we started and really it would be nice if you could, erm, be on time.”
Dave said, “Time waits for no pants. But I am here now, let’s get this show on the road.”
He said hello to his mates and then came over to where I was standing at the side of the stage. I kept my eyes down because I thought he might be able to read my mind and see that I had been planning to use him as my decoy duck. Actually, he said, “Oy missus, stop looking at my manly parts.”
I tried to have a strop, but he does make me laugh so I ended up smiling at him.
We started the rehearsal on a high note with the witches’ scene, “Hubble bubble toil and pants.” Rosie in a fit of inspiration stopped stirring the cauldron and segued into a bit of the Viking disco inferno dance. She still had her branch that she used for stirring, but she was free forming with it. Stab stab to the right, stab stab to the left and “Hoooorn.”
Dave and I burst into spontaneous applause, but Miss Wilson said she was being silly. Rosie said, “I have just introduced a note of Vikingness into the play, Miss Wilson, I think Billy would have liked it.”
Miss Wilson was madly doing her buttons up. “Rosie, Vikings had nothing to do with Shakespeare’s Macbeth.”
Dave said, “Are you sure, Miss Wilson? Perhaps Billy didn’t tell you everything.”
Eventually Miss Wilson managed to get us all back in our positions and on with the play. For a while things were going relatively smoothly.
But then it all went downhill. Nauseating P. Green accidentally set off the starting pistol used for the battle scene, and Dave started yelling, “Save yourselves, save yourselves,” and racing around. Elvis Attwood came panting up with his fire bucket ready to bury someone in sand should fire break out. He told Nauseating P. Green to mind where she put her bum in future and stomped off to fiddle with his extinguishers. Miss Wilson managed to get us back on stage again, but then we got to the banquet scene. Now I have to say in all fairness, none of us really thinks that the juggling and fire-eating improvised scene is a good idea. Melanie is absolutely hopeless at the juggling oranges bit. She more or less just chucks them in the air and they fall all over the place and then she picks them up. It is not as such my idea of juggling. It is actually chucking oranges about. And as I said to Miss Wilson, “Wouldn’t Billy Shakespeare have written it in if he thought it was a good idea?”
Miss Wilson said, “Now, er, that is an interesting point, Georgia, because you see, in Elizabethan times, the play would be, er…well, a sort of moveable feast, the players would take the text and use…well, their own ideas. Like, er…I have had an idea about the juggling and er, fire and so on.”
Rosie said, “Well, what did the Bird of Avon think about your idea?”
Miss Wilson started fiddling with her cardigan buttons. “Well, of course he isn’t, well, he couldn’t comment on my idea because as you know…”
Dave said, “Was he angry with you because you wouldn’t go out with him, miss?”
walking home together
The usual suspects. Ellen is going to develop very very strong legs if she keeps on walking home with us. She must be doing an extra ten miles walking a day, such is her luuurve for Dave the Laugh.
Rosie said, “I saw the way Nauseating P. Green was looking at Spotty Norman and I think I could smell romance backstage.”
Rollo said, “Sorry about that. I let off during the Witches bit.”
Jools laughed like a loon on loon tablets. Honestly. Girls can be such divs around boys. Ellen dribbling about Dave, Jools laughing at fart jokes, and Jas hand-in-hand with Tom. Thank goodness I have some pridenosity.
Dave said, “Mr. Attwood’s a plucky little woman, isn’t he?”
Ellen said, “Oh well, he’s not, I mean, he’s not a woman.”
I looked at her, Dave looked at her. I see no romance made in heaven for her and Dave.
fifteen minutes later
Just me and Dave. Ellen once again will be nearing home
by midnight. She caught the bus at last, still looking moonily after Dave. He gave her a bit of a lazy peck on the cheek and she almost fell over. After he had done that, he looked at me and went, “What? What?” but he knows what. The sunlight caught his eyes and he looks really, I don’t know, sort of, well, maybe it’s the time of year, but I think I have slightly got the general horn. But no no no, mine is not the way of the Horn.
Dave said, “I wouldn’t mind being a girl for a day.”
I said, “Wow, you mean so you could really know what it feels like to have girlie like stuff?”
He looked thoughtful. Dave can be really deep and nice and he is good looking. Oh blimey, if he tried to snog me, I don’t think I’ve got the power to resist. Then he said, “Yeah exactly, if I were a girl for a day, I would just stand in front of a mirror and look at my nungas all day. And feel them whenever I wanted to. S’later, kittykat.”
And he went off quite quickly. How weird. Usually he comes nearly to my house with me, but he didn’t. Maybe he’s got footie practice or something. Or maybe he’s meeting someone. A girl, maybe. A date.
nearly home
Good. That would be good for him to have a date. Nothing to do with me.
in my room
I wonder who will be at Katie Steadman’s party? Masimo probably won’t be there.
Dave will be, though, I should think.
Maybe with his new mystery girlfriend.
I bet she is vair plain.
mate of the century
saturday july 2nd
downtown
lunchtime
Even though I am not in the mood, the ace gang had a spontaneous danceathon outside a record shop. It was playing a really loud song that you could hear in the street, so we thought, Give the shoppers the benefit of our disco inferno. I think they were impressed, although there was the usual grumbling from the pensioners.
1:30 p.m.
Churchill Square was full of lads all marauding about slapping their hands and fingers and generally acting like prats. One of the prats was looking so hard at our nungas as we passed that he crashed into a shop window.
The theme of Katie’s party is “Rock.” We have to go as rock chicks and air guitarists and so on. I suppose it will be a laugh and, anyway, I’m not impressing anyone, so who cares what I look like?