Planet Janet in Orbit (21 page)

This may be the season of
Peace and Love
and
Goodwill to All Men
in the rest of the world, but in this house it’s all systems as usual. (There certainly isn’t any goodwill towards
ME
!) Got up this morning to find the Mad Cow in one of her less attractive
MOODS
. Apparently the Abominable Brother asked her to send him the rest of his savings – only they aren’t where he said they would be. Of course, she immediately blamed her only daughter! I said that since Justin’s South of the Border and therefore probably on drugs, it’s unlikely that he remembers
where
he hid his dosh –
IF
he actually left any behind. She said to pull the other one. I pointed out that as I’d worked my fingers to the bone all summer, I had no motive for taking Geek Boy’s money. Rising to her title of Queen of the Nit-Pickers, the Mad Cow said that I hadn’t worked all summer; I’d only worked a few weeks. And she’d never known me to need a motive to spend money. I said I couldn’t believe that she was accusing me, the baby girl she’d longed for, of stealing. And she shook the empty jar in my face and said she’d hate to have to dust it for fingerprints. I said it wasn’t like I’d nicked it or anything – I’d only borrowed it. She said then I could give it back –
NOW
. Which, of course, I couldn’t, could I? I said if he put his money in the bank like normal people, I wouldn’t’ve been tempted. She said she’d lay out the money for him but she’s charging me
INTEREST
. I said I didn’t think that was showing much Christmas Spirit and she said that taking things that don’t belong to you wasn’t showing much Christmas Spirit either.

Rang Marcus to see if I could go round to his for Christmas, but turns out his family’s going to stay in a lighthouse somewhere off the coast of Scotland till New Year’s Day (he doesn’t have a clue as to why – neither of his parents has ever shown any interest in the sea). As yet another example of how unpredictable the male of the species can be, Marcus thought the Oxfam Christmas sounded like a brilliant idea (probably because he doesn’t have to do it). He said he’s pretty fed up with the gross commercialization of Christmas too. He said things are so out of control he wouldn’t be surprised if they had Harry Potter advent calendars. What did Harry Potter have to do with Christmas? It was about the coming of Jesus not Harry Potter. Somehow, when Marcus says this kind of thing it isn’t as annoying as when Buskin’ Bob says it. I completely agreed. I said did he remember that Christmas Birds Eye paid for the lights in the West End? At first everybody thought it was meant to be the Dove of Peace swinging over Oxford Street, but turned out it was the Birds Eye logo. So it was actually the Dove of Peas! Marcus thought that was hilarious. He said he’d be
très
relieved if his family decided they should all make their own presents – then he wouldn’t have to go shopping. He says shopping takes
years
off your life.

As much as I like the idea of not having to spend any money on Christmas presents (especially since I’m
IN DEBT
!), I am v busy as per usual and don’t see when I’m going to have the time to make anything. Also, I don’t know what I
can
make – unless it’s a gag for Lucrezia. (I’ve got that book for Nan, which I reckon is all right since I didn’t actually
BUY
it. So that’s one down.) Went over to see Willow today to see if she has any ideas. Apparently Willow and Jupiter have all been invited round for Christmas dinner too. I said she did realize we’re having bread and water, didn’t she? She said it’d be a relief not to have to stare at some poor dead turkey all through the meal. Willow’s doing everyone a Personal Horoscope and Jupiter’s doing the illustrations. I said, “Well, there goes that idea.” Willow got out this book she bought in that cheap shop in Camden. It tells you what you can make out of stuff you find around the house and is full of things like papier-mâché jewellery boxes, bottle-top earrings and coasters made of dried macaroni and beans. (You can see why it was sold for pennies – I’m surprised they weren’t giving it away.) I pointed out that I’m a
Creative Artist
not a craftsperson. Willow couldn’t see the difference. She said well, why not knit everybody a scarf (something only a hippy would think of!)? I said I couldn’t knit. Ditto crochet. Woodworking, pottery and metal sculpture are also out. As are candles since the time I poured hot wax all over the cooker. Willow said, “You’re always talking about your poetry – why not write everybody a poem?” I said that was a typical layperson’s attitude. I said you don’t just sit down and
write
a poem. Just one poem takes months, not a couple of weeks. Also, you have to be in the mood. Willow said what about biscuits? I asked if she was offering or just hungry? She said no, really. Why don’t I make home-made biscuits? My question was: Why would I want to do that? Apparently I’d want to do that because home-made biscuits are special and a
Gift of Love
. And they don’t require Inspiration. I said I didn’t see what was so special and
Full of Love
about something you can buy for 59p in Safeway (assuming you’re
allowed
in Safeway). Willow said that was the point, wasn’t it? What makes them special is that I make them myself. I can decorate them with coloured sugar so they look really Christmassy. She says the cheap shop always has really nice gift boxes and tins for under a quid, so after they eat the biscuits they can still use the container. I said I thought she was forgetting one teensy thing – which is that my culinary skills pretty much start with a cup of tea and end with a hard-boiled egg (I’ve given up on soft-boiled). Apparently biscuits are dead easy. Willow gave me a book (another bargain!) and a cutter in the shape of a star.

Disha’s still avoiding me like I have some
MAJOR
communicable disease. She was all over Catriona Hendley at lunch like honey on a spoon. I wish there really was an Aunt K to console me. (I mean, one who isn’t
ME
–
oh, physician heal thyself
, right?) I just can’t believe that the bus of friendship has moved on without me. Especially over an
AUSTRALIAN
with hairy ears.

Since I haven’t come up with any more ideas on what inexpensive and easy presents I can make for Christmas in the Third World, I snuck into the supermarket after school today to check out the baking section. You wouldn’t believe what they want for this tiny little tub of green or red sugar! Unless it was hand-dyed by Father Christmas, it’s
ABSOLUTELY OUTRAGEOUS
. And forget the other stuff like the chocolate bits – you’d think they were made out of gold and they’re not even made out of chocolate! (I can’t stop reading labels now – no matter how hard I try.) Was on my way back to Green Army Headquarters when who should I see with her arms loaded with shopping but
SKY
?!! (I’ve always said there’s
NOTHING
spiritual about her, haven’t I?) I believe I was divinely inspired because, instead of turning right round and acting like I hadn’t seen her, I actually accosted her. Blah blah blah… How are you…? Blah blah blah… Been Christmas shopping…? Blah blah blah… It was all pretty mindless and excruciatingly boring. But then Sky said something about Durango and I said (and this is where
Divine Inspiration
comes in), “Oh, are you still working there? I thought Disha said you’d left.” Sky wanted to know who Disha was. I said, “You know, Ethan’s girlfriend. She’s my best mate – he met her through me.” That was the moment when I finally understood why Justin always lugs a camera round with him. Oh, how I wish I could’ve photographed Sky’s face when I said those magic words “Ethan’s girlfriend”. Not that I’m likely to ever forget it, of course, but it’d be nice to show people. Sky wanted to know what I was on about. She said, “
I’M ETHAN’S GIRLFRIEND
.” I pretended to be all flustered and shocked (acting is
definitely
another of the many career possibilities open to me). I said I thought they hardly knew each other, and she said they kept quiet about it at work because of Saduki and all his rules. I was still stammering apologies and muttering about me and my big mouth as Sky stalked off with
Blood in her Eye
! It is definitely the season to be jolly! I was half tempted to get Flynn and Marcus and race round to Durango to watch the fireworks.

I was having an absolutely fascinating conversation with Sappho tonight about
Birthing Horror Stories
(thirty days in labour … twenty-pound babies …. quadruplets two days apart … the sorts of things that make a young girl long to be pregnant) when the doorbell rang. Normally I’m not that eager to drag myself all the way down the hall to find out it’s a family of Jehovah’s Witnesses or some bloke selling tea towels, but I was pretty worn out by Sappho’s tales of
suffering and pain
(you’d think having a baby would be easy – I mean,
EVERYTHING
does it; how can it be so hard?). You can imagine my
SHOCK
and
SURPRISE
when I opened the door to find
DISHA PASKI
standing there! She was wearing the orange top I gave her and had a package wrapped in silver paper with a purple ribbon round it, and she was crying. I said well, it was nice that she was so glad to see me. She said she was sorry for everything, especially for
DOUBTING ME
. She met Ethan tonight and Sky suddenly jumped out from behind a building and let rip. Disha said she couldn’t believe that all this time Ethan was two-timing her by two-timing Sky. It really is true that we’re at the mercy of our feelings. Here was my chance to be v sarky and get even, and what did I do?
I STARTED CRYING TOO
!!! I said I was sorry for not being more sensitive (though I don’t know how I could have been when she never told
ME
anything!). Disha said I was right about Ethan’s jealousy but she hadn’t known how to handle it. Being a rabid feminist, Sappho doesn’t usually have any time for weeping women, so it must be her impending motherhood that’s changed her because Disha and I weren’t halfway down the hall before she came shuffling out of the kitchen wanting to know what was wrong. I said nothing; everything was all right now. Sappho offered to make us tea! (Which means it truly is the
Season of Miracles
!!!)

Buskin’ Bob has returned from saving Malaysia with a new hat (batik) and a tan. He was in the kitchen
POPPING
CORN
when I got back from Disha’s this afternoon. I said he did know you can buy it in bags already buttered and salted, didn’t he? And he said it wasn’t for eating; it was for stringing. I said
PARDON
? He said strings of popcorn are much nicer than environmentally unfriendly tinsel on the tree. If you ask me, this is a matter of personal taste. I like tinsel and I don’t care if takes three billion years to decompose either. To add insult to aesthetic injury, he expected
ME
to do the stringing! I said I had a previous engagement and went over to Marcus’s.

Today’s the winter solstice, which is Sappho’s Big Holiday. She turned on all the fairy lights that are still up from my party and it looked well cool. (That was the highlight.) Next Sappho put on a CD of some pagans chanting. Then she lit some incense and candles and read a poem about a tree, and then we had sweet cider and oatcakes. That was about it really. (You can understand why people turned to Christianity, can’t you? The food and the music are
très, très
better.) Since the solstice isn’t over-commercialized like Christmas, Sappho bought our presents. I got a postcard book of Frida Kahlo paintings (because I
once
mentioned her to Sappho). I was hoping for another diary. Was saved having to pretend to be too enthusiastic because the incense made Sappho nauseous and she wobbled off to the loo as soon as she gave out her gifts, and spent the rest of the night vomiting. [Note to self: Did the Virgin Mary have to go through this?]

The MC had a party to go to tonight and Sappho was beached on the sofa, so I decided it was a good time for biscuit-making. I’d already picked my recipe (Basic Sugar Cookies). I think Willow must still smoke pot because her sense of reality is v distorted – she was
très
wrong about just how hard this home-made biscuit lark is. First I had to dye the sugar for the tops with food colouring. Then I had to melt the margarine to get it soft enough to mix with the flour. After that, I discovered that we were right out of vanilla flavouring, so I had to use a dollop of the Christmas sherry instead. And then I had to
ROLL OUT
the dough, which is v time-consuming and not as easy as it sounds. The first lot stuck to the counter. The second lot stuck to the table. Rang Willow, who said you’re meant to roll it on a
floured
surface. I said well, why didn’t it say that? And she said it did. Had to move all the small appliances to the floor to make enough room on the counter. And something went horribly wrong with the coloured sugar. First of all, the colours weren’t too brilliant. Also, it turned into a paste! I’d been at it for hours, so I wasn’t about to do it all over again. Spread it on with a knife. Put the baking sheets in the oven, set the timer and went to take a quick shower since I was
COVERED
in flour. When I came out of the bathroom the flat was filled with smoke, the alarm was shrieking away and Sappho was hanging out of the back door being sick in the garden. (I don’t know why they call it Morning Sickness; she does it morning, noon and night!) The MC was at the sink with a tea towel across her face looking v unfestive. Of course, she blamed
ME
! She wanted to know what I was trying to do –
BURN THE HOUSE DOWN
? I said I was making my Christmas presents, wasn’t I?
WHICH WASN’T MY IDEA
. I’m perfectly happy to have a commercialized and materialistic Christmas like everybody else. Also, now I’m going to end up giving everyone empty boxes.