“Jas, shut up about minutes—you are not a Time Lord, more’s the pity. Tell me everything that happened at Stalag fourteen today.”
6:00 p.m.
Well, that was a very interesting conversation. Not. I will tell you what happened at Stalag 14. Nothing. I said to Jas, “Were people worried about me, that I had this tummy bug and so on?”
She said, “No, because we all knew it was because your shoes were too small. We said they were too small for your huge feet.”
“Jas, I haven’t got huge feet.”
“You have now! Hahahahahaha.”
Oh charming. I said, “Oh yes, very funny, Jas. If you want a really good laugh why don’t you just pop down to casualty.”
6:35 p.m.
Anyway, the short and short of it is that no one said anything interesting and even Wet Lindsay wasn’t there because she was doing home study.
6:45 p.m.
Ohmygod. I’ve just had a horrible thought. Home study—that could mean home study with Masimo.
Surely he couldn’t like her.
Surely.
tuesday june 7th
I’m sick of being an invalid now.
I am sooooo bored and I am, it has to be said, completely hairless. I have spent hours plucking.
6:30 p.m.
Phoned Jas.
She is not home; they have all gone off to the pictures.
Boo.
I am even looking forward to my family coming home—that should give you some idea of how desperate I am.
6:50 p.m.
Mum and Dad and Libbs came in.
“Gingee, Gingee, it’s meeeeeeeeeeee!!!”
I could hear her panting up the stairs to my room. She kicked open my bedroom door and ran from the door and leapt onto the bed, covering me with kisses.
“I LOBE you, my big big sister.”
I couldn’t get her off me.
“Libby, just let me…”
“Kissy kissy kiss, snoggy snog.”
“That’s enough, now let me…”
“Mmmmmm, groovy baby.”
What is she talking about? She is supposed to be going to kindergarten to learn how to grow up, not turn into an even madder person.
Then she stood up on the bed and started thrusting her hips out and singing her favorite:
“Sex bum sex bum I am a sex bum.”
Quite spectacularly mad.
7:30 p.m.
Mmmmm, quite nice supper of shepherd’s pie. On a tray in bed. Mum didn’t make it herself, of course, but at least she bothered to buy it. I think it may have given me the strength to go downstairs and watch TV to try and forget my sorrows.
7:33 p.m.
Oh no, I can’t, otherwise Dad will spot the shopping bags I have on the end of my feet.
Maybe I can ask him to bring the TV up to my room. It’s the least you can do when there is a sick person in the house.
7:35 p.m.
Just about to suggest this when I heard the roar of an engine.
Knowing my life, it will be Grandad on a motorbike in a leather all-in-one suit. And Maisie on the back in a knitted bikini.
I peeped out of my window and practically fell out of it.
It was Masimo!!! Honestly. On his scooter. He was under my window and just switching the engine off.
I must run run like the wind to…oh no, I couldn’t run. I must hobble hobble like the wind to…no, no, what I must do is I must remain calm. Calm calm. Whilst all around you everyone is losing their minds you must, you must…put some bloody makeup on immediately, you complete arse!
7:38 p.m.
Scrabble, scrabble, mascara…lippy and gloss…eyeshadow, please please don’t do shaky hand now—I don’t want to be a panda with huge feet!!!
Fluffy hair fluffy hair…
What was going on now? What? What???
Mid-mascara, did a hobble trot to the window and looked out.
There was just his scooter there. Had Angus eaten him? Then I heard the doorbell ring.
Oh, god god.
Put something on, disguise the feet!!!
Easier said than done.
I must have something.
Scrabbled through my wardrobe.
What about my extralong jeans? Yes, yes, good thinking. Extralong jeans, bit of a crouchy leg and…I looked in the full-length mirror. Yes, yes, that would do, you couldn’t see my feet at all. I must remember to crouch, though. And not hobble.
Right, right, I am ready for when Dad starts his ludicrous shouting up the stairs. It’s OK, though, because he will just say tummy bug, not shoes cut off.
I must not mention shoes cut off. No one should.
Good, good, that is good.
Excellent.
7:40 p.m.
What was going on?
Couldn’t they understand what Masimo was saying? His English wasn’t that bad.
8:00 p.m.
What was going on? Surely Masimo hadn’t come round to see my mum and dad, had he? With my life, I wouldn’t be surprised by anything. Perhaps like Dave the Laugh, Masimo fancies my mum.
I crept and shuffled to the top of the stairs. They were in the living room, so I could just hear the muffled sound of voices. Then Libby came bustling along the hall and opened the door to the front room.
She waddled into the lounge, saying, “Gordy has done a big poo in his din dins.”
Dear Lord.
8:10 p.m.
I had to rush back into my bedroom because Mum suddenly came out of the room to the kitchen and shouted up to me: “Georgia, I know you are at the top of the stairs. Come down—you have a visitor and your father wants to speak to you.”
My father?
Wants to speak to me?
I have a visitor?
It’s like Blithering Heights. If Masimo is dressed in tight breeches and wearing a cravat I will truly go mad.
I felt really really sick.
I went into the kitchen first.
Mum was making filter coffee. Blimey. I said to her, “What is going on?”
She said, “Oh, we were just having a chat with Masimo. He’s lovely isn’t he?”
“Having a chat? Having a CHAT? You have left Vati having a CHAT with someone I never ever want him to talk to about anything. Having a chat about what?”
“Well, he has come to ask us, and in particular your father, if it is alright for him to take you out to dinner next week.”
I was quite literally speechless.
8:15 p.m.
Mum made me go into the front room.
Masimo was sitting on the sofa with Libby on his knee. He stood up with her in his arms when I walked in and then he smiled. And when he did that my heart sang. Despite the fresh hell that was about to occur he was soooooo gorgey.
Vati was standing up in front of the fireplace with his hands behind his back. Then I realised he was smoking a cigar. He never smoked cigars except at Christmas, and then he was sick. What the hell was going on?
He said, “Ah, hello, Georgia. Masimo and I have just been having a chat.”
Oh dear God, he was using that word again.
Masimo said, “Ciao, Georgia.”
My vati said, “Do sit down, Georgia. Connie.”
It was like being in a cross between a horror film and My Fair Lady.
I didn’t know what else to do, so I sat down and so did Mum. As soon as we did, Vati and Masimo sat down as well. I fought an overwhelming desire to stand up again to see if they would stand up as well.
Dad said, “Masimo has come round to ask if it is alright for him to take you out and I think after careful thought and a few ground rules that…it would be…acceptable to your mother and myself.”
Has he really snapped? He works for the Water Board, drowning people and driving them out of their homes, but he is not in the Mafia.
He went rambling on about curfews and behavior. Like the Godfather. He will probably expect us to call him Il Ministrone. Complete and utter bollocks. About ho
nor and his family reputation and so on. I was so so embarrassed. And Masimo just said stuff like “Of course, I will, how you say, take molto—mi dispeagia, I am sorry for my English, I will take great care of your daughter.”
He smiled at me. “She will even have her own helmet.”
And Mum laughed like a crazy person, like “helmet” was the funniest word she had ever heard.
9:00 p.m.
I only got a chance to speak to Masimo right at the end of the nightmare scenario. When he went out to go off on his bike I went out to the gate with him. I said to him, “Masimo, I am so sorry about my parents. I am dispiaggio times a million about them.”
He smiled and said, “I thought it was the only way I will get your attention. Now I have your attention, no?”
“Oh, yes, you have sure as sure as…eggs have my attention, matey.”
He laughed.
“I like it when you speak, it is like…”
“Rubbish?”
He laughed again and handed me a piece of paper.
“Here, this is for you. Phone me, caro, and let me know if you still would like to see me on Tuesday. Ciao.”
He looked at me with that unwavering look he has. Oh dear God, I had crumbly knees and jelloid knickers and I sooo wanted to go to the piddly diddly department.
Then he roared off.
9:05 p.m.
Went back into the house. With a bit of luck I could get in without being seen by the seeing-eye dogs. But oh no, no such luck. Vati came out of the front room.
“He seems like a nice young chap. Keen on sports and so on. Good family, healthy lifestyle.”
I said, “Shiny nose, glossy coat, that sort of thing.”
He said, “I said to your mum that you are not old enough for boys, you should be concentrating on your studies.”
Oh blimey, I had wandered into the twilight world of Daddom. I wandered off as quickly as I could hobble, saying, “Oooh, do you know, Dad, I’ve come over all queasy. I must go back to bed.”
in my bedroom
Yessssss! Double yesss and wow! I had a date with the Luuurve God. I looked at the piece of paper he had given me. It said “Masimo 766739. Phone me. Please.”
I had his phone number. No waiting around for him to call me. No more S’later for me!! I am a s’later-free zone!
10:00 p.m.
God, I’m happy.
The photo of the guitar plucker was on the bed looking at me.
Maybe I will write to him.
As a friend.
A loving old friend.
A loving friend who has gone on to more Italian Stallion–type things!
I wish I could ring everyone and tell them. I am deffo going to school tomorrow even if Jas has to carry me there.
10:30 p.m.
I will never sleep from excitemondo!
What shall I wear? Are we really going to go out to dinner or is that just a snogging ploy?
I’ve never been out to dinner with a boy before.
11:00 p.m.
I tell you this, I am not having cappuccino and the foam beard experience.
If we are going to dinner I’d better plan what I am having in advance, because I don’t want the attractive dribbly tomato sauce effect on my snogging arena (mouth).
but soft, what pants through yonder window breaks
wednesday june 8th
stalag 14
Feet miraculously better. I am down to light bandages now!!
But even if I had no feet I would be walking on air…. hahahahahaha that is quite a good joke.
I said that to Jas.
“It’s a good joke, isn’t it, Jazzy Spazzy?”
She said, “What is?”
in the corridor
10:00 a.m.
Saw Wet Lindsay hahahaha. She glared at me and told me to hurry up to class. Hurry up yourself, Old Dumpee Thong.
five’s court
Emergency tactical meeting.
Rosie said, “‘Be prepared’ is always my motto.”
Ellen said, “I didn’t know you were a Girl Guide.”
Rosie said, “Didn’t you? Oh yes, Sven and I are keen Girl Guides, dib dib dib and so forth.”
The whole thing would have disintegrated into madnosity, so I quickly said, “So what do you think I should do? How shall I handle it? Do you think he is really going to take me out to dinner?”
After much consultation and nodding the gang have decided that we should have a mock date to prepare me for my date.
We are all going to meet round Ro Ro’s place on Saturday when her parents are at the cricket. We are going to practice for my hot date. There will be snacks. But no Sven. I had to beg and plead with Rosie.
She said, “He would be vair vair useful, he could give us the boy point of view.”
I said, “Couldn’t he give you the boy point of view and then you pass it on to me? Or will you just snog all day in front of us? Also he is bound to smash something to smithereens.”
Rosie has reluctantly agreed to ban him.
at home
6:00 p.m.
I am dying to tell Dave the Laugh.
Phoned him when the olds went out to a parents’ evening for Libby at the local school. Surely no school is going to take her on. She has been forbidden to sing the “Bum Arse Song” and is not allowed to take Gordy. I still think it was a mistake to let her wear her leopard outfit because a) it is for a child half her size and b) she becomes a leopard in it. But you can’t tell people.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Dave the Laugh.
I called him. I hope my best friend Rachel is not there.
Dave answered.
“Hello, sensation seeker.”
“Dave, it’s me. Something vair vair great and bonne has happened. I am going on a date with Masimo; he came round on his scooter and asked my dad if he could take me to dinner. He asked my dad if he could take me to dinner!!!”
Dave said, “What an amazing bunch of crawlers the Italians are.”
“Dave!!! Don’t you get it? He has asked me out! I am going out with him!”
Dave said, “Well, I’m glad for you, Sex Kitty, but remember what I said. He may be playing the field. He may just be blowing his Cosmic Horn.”
He sounded a bit funny.
“You sound a bit funny, Dave, are you alright?”
Dave said, “Well, not really, I had to finish with Rachel.”
Finish with Rachel? I said, “Why? I mean, she’s so…Well, she is so, you know…Isn’t she?”
Blimey, I have turned into Ellen.
Dave said, “It just wasn’t right. But anyway, she is very upset, she’s just gone actually, she came round and cried and I feel pretty bad.”
I said, “Oh, I’m sorry.”
But actually I am not sorry at all. After I had rung off I told Jas that, because she was my next phone call. It’s not often I get a telephone window of opportunity in my house, so I am packing all my calls in.
Jas said, “Why are you bothered who Dave goes out with? He is not in your harem or anything. And another thing: Rachel was nice, not like you.”
God, she can be annoying. I wish I hadn’t called her now, especially as she did that “Guess how many minutes it is until Tom gets home?” thing again.
saturday june 11th
2:00 p.m.
All the gang gathered at Rosie’s for my practice date.
Rosie said she would be Masimo and the rest of them would watch and be judges.
2:10 p.m.
Rosie went off to her bedroom. She said, “I am going to be Masimo, so I have to get in the mood for luuurve.”
She came back five minutes later wearing a false beard with a banana down her jeans.
I said, “Why have you got a banana down your jeans?”
Rosie said, “It was Sven’s suggestion. He said it is representative of the pant python.”
Ellen said, “I, er…do you mean like a boy’s, er, well…”
Rosie said, “Exacto
mondo, my little pally.”
Jas said to me, “OK, let’s get on, because I have to get home earlyish. It’s only ninety-nine hours till Tom gets home and I must prepare myself. What will you do when you first see him?”
She pointed to Rosie, who was walking in a very peculiar way and waggling her beard.
“There he is tall, tanned, Italian, sophisticated. So what do you do?”
I said, “Er, leap on him and snog him within an inch of his life? Taking care not to strangle myself on his false beard, or disturb his banana.”
Jools said, “What does it say in the How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You book?”
Mabs was officially in charge of the book, so she looked up “first impressions.”
3:00 p.m.
I have to hip wiggle up to him. Look at him, look away, fiddle with my hair and do a bit of flicking. If I have any spare time I need to lick my lips a bit.
Mabs said, “The book says you should say something light and interesting to start the conversation. Also if he says anything funny you have to laugh like the proverbial drain.”
I did hip wiggle, flicky, licky over to Rosie. Whilst the rest of them sat looking and chewing. Rosie said (in what she imagines is an Italian accent but actually sounds like a fool), “Ciao.”
I said, “Ciao. Er, prego.”
“Ciao.”
All the gang were ogling me.
I said, “Masimo, did you know that the Spartans…you know, in the old days of Sparta, which is quite nearish to Italy…”
Rosie had pretended to fall asleep. She said, “Get on with it.”
I said, “Well, they used to keep teenage boys half-starved so that they had to go out and steal food, and if they got caught they would beat them to within an inch of their lives.”
They all just looked at me.
Mabs said, “Do you call that light and interesting?”
I do, actually. That is the deep sadnosity of my life; I find it vair difficult to be as superficial as others.
Jools said, “Think of something that he is interested in, think of something to do with Rome or something.”
I tried again.
“Did you know that the Pope has people who watch him poo to make sure he is a bloke and not a woman, because of Pope Joan?”
Rosie said, “You are not, as such, getting the hang of this, are you?”
an hour later