Read Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 05 Online

Authors: Away Laughing on a Fast Camel

Tags: #Humorous Stories, #England, #Diaries, #Diary Fiction, #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Fiction, #Interpersonal Relations, #Love & Romance, #Dating (Social Customs), #Nicolson; Georgia (Fictitious Character), #Girls & Women, #Adolescence, #Mammals, #Romance, #Humorous, #Animals, #Friendship

Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 05 (9 page)

BOOK: Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 05
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I opened the door and it was Mark Big Gob. Crikey.
He looked a bit shifty and nervous.

“Georgia, I've got something to say about the other night.”

He wasn't going to have another attempt at storming my nunga-nunga holders, was he?

I said warily, “Oh yes, what is it?”

“Well, I'm, I'm…”

I'm what? The Count of Monte Cristo? Stupid? Wearing false lips? What???

Mark said, “I'm sorry, I apologize.”

Blimey O'Reilly's trousers. Then I noticed he had a swelling on his mouth and a split lip. Cripes, was his mouth expanding even more, like the Incredible Hulk?

He said, “Do you accept my apology?”

How weird was this? I felt like I was in a film. One of those really old-fashioned films where everyone wears pantaloons. Like
Gone with the Wind
. Maybe I should say, “Why sir, thank you kindly for apprising me of your feelings. I do declare I have never seen tighter pantaloons!!”

But I didn't get into the film thing because Mark is not the brightest button on the cardigan. I said, “Er…yes, well yes.”

As he shuffled off, Mark turned round and
said, “Will you let your mate know I've been round?”

“What mate?”

“You know, Dave.”

Then he went off.

Wow!

And three times wow. In fact wowzee wowzee wow.

What had Dave the Laugh done?

9:15 p.m.

Phoned Rosie and told her.

She was very impressed; she loves the smack of violence.

She said, “Hmmm, my kind of guy. It's a good job Sven wasn't involved; a boy at a party I went to pushed into the loo line ahead of me and Sven threw his trousers into next door's garden.”

“Why would Sven chuck his trousers into next door's garden? Was it a fit of pique?”

“Georgia, he threw the boy's trousers into next door's garden…and the boy was still wearing them.”

“Sacré bleu.”

“Mais oui.”

9:35 p.m.

In theory and especially given my special relationship with Jesus I am against violence. However, there is a time and place for everything, and I think Dave biffing Mark is one of those exceptions that make the rule.

9:40 p.m.

It slightly gives me the Horn, actually.

Unlike Cousin James, who unfortunately has arrived. He is reading Tolkien's
The Hobbit
and goes on and on about it.

He said, “It's very interesting, but did you know that even now people go on a pilgrimage to Tolkien's grave and they speak in Elfin.”

James has a bit of trouble with the word “interesting.” In fact sad sacks chatting in Elfin over some dead bloke's grave is not “interesting,” it is “stupid.”

Still, at least he is reading rubbish and not trying to play tickly bears with me.

midnight

What is it with boys and elfs?

thursday march 17th

Phoned Dave the Laugh and thanked him
vis-à-vis
the duffing-up incident. He said, “It's a pleasure, gorgeous.”

But he didn't say “see you later” or anything.

saturday march 19th

At one time I had boys snogging my ears and so on, and now I am alone for the rest of my life. How did that happen? How come I have peaked already?

11:00 p.m.

Started a letter to SG.

Dear Robbie,

It's raining here and we are doing a crap play about some Scottish fools who…

11:30 p.m.

I can't talk about school to him, otherwise he will remember that I am still at school.

friday april 1st

all fools day

You are not kidding.

friday april 8th

I have tried to write to Robbie so many times, but the sadness is that I don't have anything to say to him. He doesn't want to be my boyfriend and I just have to accept it.

I am going to take down my shrine to him.

11:00 p.m.

Mum came in after I had taken down my shrine and she caught me crying.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked my hair, which is normally a killing offence but it's all scrubbled up and greasy anyway. She said, “I'm sorry, love, I'm sorry you are so upset, but you will have fun again and you will have nice boyfriends because you are lovely and funny and my darling daughter.”

That made me cry more.

Then Libby toddled in and came up on the bed beside me.

“Look, Ginger, nice.”

She had what I think was probably once a biscuit in one hand and Gordy by the neck in the other. She put him on my bed and he started attacking my knees under the bedclothes.

midnight

Mum made me a milky pops drink like she did when I was little and ill. Which was nice. Except that I put it down on my bedside table and Gordy plunged his head in it. He has been having a sneezing attack for about ten minutes.

monday april 11th

school

Hot news straight off the press. The Stiff Dylans have got a new lead singer to replace the Sex God. Ellen was full of it in the loos. We were all holed up there at break. If any storm troopers come in we have to stand on the loo seat so they can't see our feet. The trick is to leave the door a bit open and stand right to the other edge of the loo seat, so the cubicle looks empty. We are clearly geniuses, because it works.

Anyway, Ellen said, “He's half Italian and half American and he's called Masimo.”

Jools said, “I'm going to learn how to speak American immediately.”

“Mabs reckons he's dishy and fit as a flea.”

“Angela Richards saw him arrive at the Phoenix. She lives just across from it and she said he turned up on one of those really cool Italian scooters.”

11:00 a.m.

I listened to their girlish chatter with great sadnosity. It was alright for them; they could just replace one lead singer with another. They did not know the heartbreak I had gone through because the Sex God had chosen wombats and rogue bores instead of me.

Jools said, “Angela said he is the coolest, fittest-looking boy she has ever seen. When he drew up and was parking his scooter this group of girls sort of gathered around just looking. Ogling him. He said ‘ciao' to them.”

I said, “How is he going to be able to be in the band if he can't speak English?”

Ellen said, “He can speak English, he's half American.”

I said, “Oh yeah, and that's the same, is it? I'll just say this…Americans don't know who Rolf Harris is, and they call knickers panties. That is not really speaking English, is it?”

Rosie said, “Yeah, you've got a point, Geegee, but perhaps in the spirit of neighborliness and red-bottomosity we could help him to speak properly.”

Hmmm.

swimming

Herr Kamyer was “in charge” this arvie because Miss Stamp is doing some certificate or another.

I said, “It's probably in advanced lesbianism.”

It probably is, actually.

in the pool

I swam under Jas's legs and she squealed like a girl because I surprised her.

She was very grumpy because in her panic she had got her fringe wet.

My crawl style is quite stylish I think. Unlike Nauseating P. Green's style. She really is a fiasco waiting to happen. She wears armbands and she still sinks without a trace every few minutes.

 

Anyway, the funniest bit for me was when Herr Kamyer entered stage left. He came out in his swimming knickers and we all went “Whoaar,” which made him have such a dither attack that he stepped off into the deep end by mistake. Without removing his glasses. He spent about a million years diving down to look for them. Herr Kamyer is the palest man known to humanity. His legs and arms are like a stick insect. He does a very amusing
breaststroke (in my opinion), like a cross between a human being and a twit, with just a touch of blind beaver. I could watch him for ages.

We were all having splashy fun when the fire alarm went off. Oh
merde
, now what? It can't be a real fire, and even if it is, wouldn't we be better off staying in forty-five million gallons of water, like where we are now?

 

But oh no, that would be too simple. The lifeguard is Mr. Attwood. He came perving along with a whistle and started yelling at us to get out of the water and go to our mustering points. What mustering points? What are we, bucking broncos?

I said to Ro Ro as we dragged ourselves up the swimming pool steps, “I can't believe this.”

When we tried to go and get changed, Elvis had locked the doors to the changing rooms. He said, “Come on, come on, follow the exit signs pronto.” Rosie, who was practically hitting Mr. Attwood in the spectacles with her nungas, said, “Yes but where do the signs lead?”

And he said, “Outside to safety. Now get a move on.”

“Outside??”

Minutes later we were outside, in early April, in the car park. In our semi-nuddy-pants.

We were shivering like mad when Mr. Mad came round with some bacofoil stuff. I said to him, “This is hardly the time to be roasting vegetables.”

And he, in a rather surly way for someone who was supposed to be calming me down in the face of a towering inferno, said, “It's to wrap round you.”

Marvelous.

Thank you.

3:00 p.m.

I will not easily forget standing in a car park wrapped in bacofoil next to Herr Kamyer, also in bacofoil.

He was still trying to be normal. Not that he has the slightest idea what that is, as he is German.

He said, “So girls, shall we sing a little song to practice our German? I know, let us do the funny camping one of when the Koch family go away and they forget many things which we must list.”

God save us all.

saturday april 16th

Jas has gone off to the Forest of Fools with Hunky, so the rest of the ace gang went to Churchill Square for essential shopping items. It's incredibly nippy noodles and parky, but that didn't stop us casually sitting on a wall chatting and lad spotting. There were hordes of lads ladding about. There is an all nighter at the Buddha Lounge tonight, but unfortunately since my report card I am virtually under house arrest. It is a lot of fuss over nothing. Slim said on the “remarks” part of my report card, “Georgia is an intelligent girl whose academic career is blighted by her immature japes.”

“Immature japes.” Lawks a mercy. I bet when Slim went to school they used to make their own fun with bits of old Weetabix packets. And a really great night out was going down the grocers and thinking about what you could make with dairy products. But tragically, life is not like that. We do not do “immature japes,” we do really sophisticated japes.

1:15 p.m.

Just as we were reapplying lippy after our nutritious
lunch of choc ices, Dave the Laugh and Rollo came along. When they saw us, Dave said, “Be gentle with us.”

What is he going on about? Ellen practically exploded with ditherosity. I, on the
au contraire
, was a visage of casualosity; I even remembered to smile with my tongue behind my back teeth. Dave winked at me. Shut up winking.

Rollo was looking all sheepish. I think he still likes Jools, even though he finished with her. Jools is keen but she is playing hard to get. Ellen has obviously taken my hints from our boy bible on how to make any fool fall in love with you seriously. She was flicking her hair around so much I thought she might snap her neck. And also she was combining it with darting glances. Dave said, “Alright, Ellen?”

And she said, flicky flick, “Yes, I'm alright, Dave, are…you…alright?” And she gave a very meaningful flick and darting glance. But no one got it.

As I was being a bit reddish Dave's so-called girlfriend turned up. She is not pretending to be reddish, she IS reddish. Good grief she is friendly. She said, “Oh hi, everyone, great to see you again.”

Was it? Why? Before I knew it we were all pretending to be really jolly and friendly for no reason. It was very very tiring. After they had gone, Jools and Rollo were talking to each other “privately,” so Rosie and Ellen and me went to try out makeup in Boots. When Ellen went round the other side of the “Rich Chick” range I said to Rosie, “Rachel's a bit like Jas, isn't she, only more ginger. It's all ‘ooohhh look, some cuckoo spit' and ‘ooooh have a nice day' and ‘ooooh your hair is nice' and—”

Rosie said, “Yes I think I have got the picture, Gee, and I think you are being very bitter and twisted and that is why I
aime
you so much.”

I thought Ellen was busy trying on flavored eyeshadow (a bit of a mystery that one, unless there is such a thing as eye snogging, which quite frankly wouldn't surprise me). Anyway, Ellen popped her head up really suddenly and said, “You are not very nice about Dave the Laugh, Georgia, I mean, I am, and I'm the one he…well, you know, I'm the dumpee. Not you. I mean, what has he ever done to you? You know that time when you were supposed to snog him at the Fish party, well…”

I started blabbing about my mates being like
part of me. Fortunately at that point Jools came running over like an excitable elephant in a frock.

“He says he'd like to give it another go.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon arguing about whether you should give a boy a second chance.

Who knows, the whole thing is a bloody mystery.

home

I am under heavy manners this weekend even to the extent that I am being forced to stay in and baby-sit whilst the so-called grown-ups go out and make fools of themselves. The rest of the ace gang are going to the funfair. I tried saying to Vati that we had been set “Going to the funfair” as homework, but all he said was, “Georgia, let me put it this way…no.”

Mutti said, “Anyway, you are baby-sitting for us. It's Uncle Eddie's birthday and we are going out.”

They are going to some really sad karaoke bar. Uncle Eddie won first prize the last time singing “Like a Virgin,” so that should give you some idea about how crap it must be.

Mutti was tarting herself up in the bathroom;
she said, “Honestly, when he started singing ‘Like a Virgin' it was like Madonna was there in his body.”

Christ, what an image.

As a fabulous parting gift, Mum said, “Oh, by the way, I've made an appointment to see Dr. Gilhooley, put it in your diary.”

I said, “Oh no. No, no no, there is nothing wrong with me that having normal parents wouldn't fix. I will not show him my elbows again. They are fine, I am living with them.”

Mutti said, “It's not about your health. I just want to see him because he is so gorgeous.”

She saw me looking sick and said, “No, not really, I want to fix up a work experience day for you there. I know how much you like biology.”

“What???? What??? Just because I can do a fantastic impression of lockjaw germ does not mean I want to be a doctor's receptionist.”

“It will be interesting. It will give you a taste of real life.”

“Mum, you've been in his surgery, you know it's not a taste of real life, it's a taste of pensioner hell. I am not sitting around all day in a place full of people like Mr. Next Door in incontinence trunks.”

I may as well be invisible, because she just went out tutting.

 

After Mutti and Vati had “roared” off in the clown car—or Robinmobile, as I call it—I went up to see what my little sister was up to. She is obsessed with Gordy and is trying to teach him to jump through her hula hoop. Good luck, mad toddler. It's not that Gordy can't leap; he can—in fact he leaps all the time for no apparent reason.

But it is senseless leaping, not hoop leaping.

8:00 p.m.

Gordy is so alarmingly cross-eyed, it may be that he can't even see the hoop. I wonder if you can get cat glasses?

Angus is not in. He's on the wall with Naomi snogging and wrestling. It's a bit pervy snogging in front of your offspring. I should know; my olds are always fondling each other and it's disgusting. There is some manky big black cat from up the road hanging about. I see him around Naomi sometimes, he is a rival for her love.

Naomi is a dreadful minx; she seems to entice
Manky, even in front of Angus. She is the furry-faced shame of womanhood.

8:25 p.m.

Oh
quelle dommage
, Gordy is wrestling with his own tail and the tail is winning, so Libby has turned her attention to me. Oh dear.

“Gingey, let's go play outside now.”

“Darling, it's nearly bedtime; I know…we could read
Heidi
.”

That's when the
Heidi
book hit me quite hard on the head. Libby had apparently gone off cheese and lederhosen. She was stamping her little foot.

“Outside, naughty boy…OUTSIDE!”

Oh hell's biscuits.

And she wouldn't even get dressed. I had to put a blanket over her jimmyjams (at least she had the bottoms on, for once). She was leaping around, yelling “Hickory dickory dot, the cow leapt over the SPOOOOON!!”

I opened the front door and she went leaping out into the dark night. Angus looked down at us from the wall and casually biffed me with his paw. Thanks for your help, furry pal. When we got to the
gate I said to Libbs, “There, that was nice leaping, wasn't it, let's go back to snugly buggly bed and—”

But she had undone the gate and was leaping away down the street in her blanket. I went after her and tried to pick her up. She nearly had my eye out.

 

Ten minutes later we were still leaping “over the spoon.” My plan was to leap with her and sort of round her up and head her back to our house. But I'd just get her in the right direction and she would do some quick leaps and get round me again. By this stage we had got halfway down Baron's Street, and when I looked up from another failed attempt to head Libby off I saw Dom from The Stiff Dylans getting out of his van with his guitar. Probably turning up for a jamming session at the Phoenix. Libby was leaping in a circle, so I had a chance to smile at Dom.

He said, “Hey hi, how are you, Georgia. And Libby.”

Libby ignored him because she was busy leaping. But she still managed to tell him, “Gordon pooed in the bath.”

Dom said, “I won't even ask. Have you heard from Robbie?”

I felt a bit tearful. “Yeah, he really likes it there.”

Dom said, “Yeah. I heard. Pity. Ah well…erm, come to the gig on the eighth. We've reformed and got a cool new singer, so it looks like the record deal might go ahead.”

I said, “You've got a new singer, yes, well, that's cool…”

I was thinking, “Yes, that is cool if you can replace a Sex God, which you can't, even if he is a bit obsessed with vegetables.” But I didn't say that.

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