The Complete Fab Confessions of Georgia Nicolson: Books 1-10. Louise Rennison
first. Just as well I am so popular.
10:00 p.m.
In bed listening to a tape. Sadly it is “the Teddy Bears’ Picnic”. Libby has made me listen to it five times. If I try to turn it off she has a nervy spaz and growls at me.
I phoned up my “mates” earlier to go out, but they were all busy.
11:00 p.m.
I wonder if I had an emergency, like appendicitis or something, would my mates be too “busy” to come to the hospital?
11:30 p.m.
I have got a pain in my side. It might be a grumbling appendix.
11:32 p.m.
In blodge we learned that rabbits have got some sort of shrub growing in their appendix. How normal is that?
Sunday August 29th
6:30 p.m.
Mutti and Libbs have gone to visit the elderly mad. (Grandad.) Mum asked me if I would like to go, but I just looked at her with pity. Sadly she didn’t get it and asked me again. I explained politely that I would rather put my head in a pair of Elvis Attwood’s old trousers. She said I was a “horrid, bad-tempered spoiled brat”. Fat chance I’m spoiled. I’m lucky if I get one square meal a week. I’m getting really, really thin. Apart from my nose. And basoomas.
8:00 p.m.
Ellen, Rosie and Jools came round and we sat on the wall, looking at boys. There are, it has to be said, a lot of fit-looking boys, but they haven’t got that certain Sex God factor for me.
Mark (BG) went by with his girlfriend Ella. She is practically a midget. I thought he was taking a toddler for a walk. Rosie said, “So what happened with you and Robbie?”
I said, “he sent me a note and said that I should go out with some loser called Dave the Laugh.”
Rosie said, “That’s sort of dumping by proxy, isn’t it?”
I said, “Are you supposed to be cheering me up?”
“But I thought you got to number six and everything.”
“Yeah, but he said his parents would go ballisticisimus because I am so young. They’d think I was jail thing.”
The Ace Crew were all full-on, attention-wise. Ellen even took her chewing gum out.
Jools said, “What is jail thing?”
I didn’t really know actually but I improvised (lied). “Er…it’s when you are underage and you go to…er…number eight with a boy.”
Rosie said, “What, if you let a boy touch you above the waist you have to go to jail?”
1 said patiently, “No, he has to go to jail.”
Rosie said, “Well, that’s it for Sven, then.”
I said, “Fair enough.” But I don’t know what I am talking about really. I’m all upset and confused and still have Herr Kamyer legs, even though it’s the end of August.
Monday August 30th
1:43 p.m.
Borrowed Ellen’s Kool Tan. Soon my Herr Kamyer legs will turn into sun-kissed boy magnets. Hmmm, smooth it on smoothy smooth and leave for an hour.
2:00 p.m.
If I move my bed and open the window I can sort of sunbathe on my bedroom floor. SG is going to find it damn difficult to resist the new tanned me.
4:05 p.m.
Woke up to orange Herr Kamyer legs and a huge red nose!!
5:00 p.m.
I’ve just scrubbed my legs off. They are not quite so orange but my nose looks like one of those red clown noses. Brilliant.
Wednesday September 1st
7:00 p.m.
It’s boiling having to wear stockings in this weather, but better than being blinded every time I look down at my still orangish legs.
Eight days till we go back to Stalag 14. I’m going to put my foot down with a firm hand this term and make sure I don’t have to sit next to Nauseating P. Green.
Mum has gone out to Uncle Eddie’s with Libbs. He is teaching Mum salsa dancing– can you imagine? How very sad. The tremendously old can be very embarrassing. Imagine my mum salsa dancing with Uncle Eddie the human boiled egg.
In public.
Or private.
7:05 p.m.
Jas called. Tom has gone off to work experience and she wants to come round. I am a substitute boyfriend. Well she can think again if she thinks I am going to be constantly available when Tom goes off to work experience. I am not so cheap.
7:08 p.m.
I may make her give me some expensive present that I choose from Boots. Oh no, hang on, I’ve got a better idea.
7:30 p.m.
Jas moaning on about Tom.
I listened sympathetically and said, “Shut up, now, Jas.”
Then she looked at me. “Why have you got pink panstick on your nose?”
I said, “Shut up, now, Jas.”
7:42 p.m.
I made my famous French toast for Jas. (Beat an egg and put bread in it and then fry it. The French bit comes in when you are eating the toast and you have to speak with a French accent.) As we were munching through the toast I said, “Jas, ma petite.”
“Quoi?’
“I’ve got le plan to impressez the Sex God avec my maturiosity. It involves vous.”
She almost choked on her toast. “Non.”
“You will aime it.”
“Oh mon Dieu.”
The first part of my plan was that we got dressed up to look as old as we could and get on a bus and get full fares. As an experiment. She was grumbling as she got made up but at least she was on the move.
8:30 p.m.
Ready. I must say I think we looked v. Sophis. We’d got loads more make-up on than we normally wear, and darker lipstick. And we wore all black. Black is very ageing, as I continually tell Mum so I can get her black T-shirt and leather trousers. I said to Jas, “We’d better get back before she gets home because I have borrowed her Gucci handbag. She specifically said she would kill me if I ever borrowed it. She is very, very mean with her things, which is why I have to borrow them in secret.”
As we walked down the street I had another idea. “Let’s keep pretending we are French as well.”