‘Stop in the name of pants!’

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Oh brilliant – Jas, Wild Woman of the Forest, was in the vicinity. Dave took his arm away from my shoulder. I looked up at him, he looked down at me and bent over and kissed me on the mouth really gently.

“Ah well, the end of the line, Kittykat. You go off with your Italian lesbian boyfriend and see how it goes and I’ll try and be a good mate to you. Don’t tell me too much about you and him because I won’t like it – but other than that, let’s keep the accidental outburst of red-bottomosity to ourselves.”

I smiled at him. “Dave, I…”

“Yes?”

“I think I can feel something moving in my undercrackers.”

Midnight

And that is when I scampered off back to Loony Headquarters. That is, our school campsite. To change my nick-nacks.

Ten past midnight

I said to Baby Jesus, “I know I have done wrong and I am sorry times a million, but at least you have been kind enough not to send a plague of tadpoles into my pantaloonies.”

Sunday July 31st

11:00 a.m.

I must say, it was a lot easier getting our tent down than up. I pulled all the peg-type things out of the ground, Rosie and Jools kicked the pole over, and though it wouldn’t go in its stupid bag thing, we made a nice bundle of it in about three minutes flat.

Jas and her woodland mates and Herr Kamyer and Miss Wilson were folding and sorting and putting things in little pockets and so on for about a million years.

Ten minutes later

Rosie, Jools and me stashed our tent bundle in the suitcase holder thing at the side of the coach and got on board past Mr Attwood. The only reason we got on without some sort of Nazi investigation and body search was because he was slumped at the wheel with his cap pulled down over his face.

Rosie said, “That’s how he drives.”

And she is not wrong if the nightmare journey home was anything to go by.

Twenty minutes later

We were having a little zizz on the back seat under a pile of our coats when Jas, patron saint of the Rambling On Society, came on board. I knew that because she came to the back of the coach and shook my shoulder quite violently. I peered at her. She was tremendously red-faced.

I said, “Jas, I am trying to sleep.”

“You didn’t pack your tent up properly.”

I said, “Oh, I’m sorry, are the tent police here?”

She said, “You have just made a big mess of yours in the boot. We had to take it out and pack it up so that we could get ours in!”

“Yes, well, Jas, as you can see, I am very, very busy.”

“You are soooo selfish and lax and that is why you have a million boyfriends, none of whom will stay with you.”

She stormed off to sit at the front near her besties Miss Wilson and Herr Kamyer.

God, she is annoying, but luckily no one else heard her rambling on about the million boyfriends scenario. I wonder if the boys are home yet?

Five minutes later

Herr Kamyer stood up at the front of the bus and said, “Can I haff your attention, girls.” Everyone carried on talking, so he started clapping his hands together.

Mr Attwood jerked to life and said, “It’s time to go.”

Herr Kamyer said, “Ja, ja, danke schön, Herr Driver, but first I vill count zat ve are all pre—”

At which point Mr Attwood put his foot down and Herr Kamyer fell backwards into Miss Wilson’s lap.

Quite, quite horrific.

We just watched the young lovers as they got redder and redder. Like red things at a red party.

Herr Kamyer tried to get off her lap, but the coach was being driven so violently by Mr Mad that he kept falling back again, saying, “Ach, I am sehr sorry I…”

And Miss Wilson was saying, “No, no, it’s quite all right. I mean I…”

Eventually, when Mr Attwood was forced to stop at the lights, Herr Kamyer got into his own seat and pretended to be inspecting his moth collection. Miss Wilson got out her knitting but kept looking over at him.

I said to Rosie, “Just remember this – he was there when Nauseating P. Green did her famous falling into the shower tent fiasco and Miss Wilson was exposed to the world having a shower. He has seen Miss Wilson in the nuddy-pants.”

I was just thinking about popping back to Snoozeland when Ellen dithered into life.

“Er, Georgia… you know when Jas said… well, when she said that you had… like a million boyfriends or something, I mean have you or something?”

Rosie said, “Ellen, gadzooks and lackaday, OF COURSE Georgia hasn’t got a million boyfriends. She would be covered in them if she had.”

Ellen said, “Well, I know but, well, I mean, she’s only got Masimo, and that is like… well…”

Mabs said, “Yeah, Masimo… and the rest.”

I said to Mabs, “Who rattled your cage?”

And Mabs said, “I’m just remarking on the Dave the Laugh factor.”

Ellen sat up then. “What Dave the Laugh factor?”

Oh Blimey O’Reilly’s nose massager! Here we go again, once more into the bakery of love. I am going to have to nip this Dave the Laugh thing in the bud.

I said, “Ellen, did you snog Declan and, if so, what number did you get up to?”

Ellen looked like she had swallowed a sock full of vole poo, which is not a good look.

“Well, I… well, you know, I, well, do you think I did or something?”

I said, “A yes or no any time this side of the grave would be fab, Ellen.”

Ellen said she had to get her cardi from Jas’s rucky and tottered off to sit next to her. Hahahahaha. I am without doubtosity top girlie at red-herringnosity.

4:00 p.m.

Dropped off at the bottom of my road. By some miracle we have arrived home not maimed and crippled by our coach “driver” and school caretaker Elvis Attwood. He hates girls.

I don’t think he has a driving licence. When I politely asked to see it after a near-death experience at a roundabout, he suggested I remove myself before his hand made contact with my arse. Which is unnecessary talk in a man who fought for his country in the Viking invasions. I said to him, “You are only letting yourself down by that kind of talk, Mr Attwood.”

Two minutes later

Walked up the drive to Chez Bonkers. Opened the door and yelled, “Hello, everyone, you can get out the fatted hamster, I am home!!!”

Two minutes later

No one in.

Typico.

I don’t know why they ramble on so much about where I’m going and what time I will be in, when they so clearly don’t give two short flying mopeds.

Kitchen

I’m starving.

Nothing in the fridge of course.

Unless you like out-of-date bean sprouts.

Four minutes later

Slightly mouldy toast, mmmmm. I think I am getting scurvy from lack of vitamin C, my hair feels tired. Perhaps Italian Luuurve Gods like the patchy-hair look in a girlfriend.

I wonder if he has left a message on the phone for me?

Five minutes later

I really wish I hadn’t listened to the messages – it is a terrifying insight into the “life” I lead.

First it was some giggling pal of Mum’s saying that she had met a bloke at a speed-dating night and had got to number six with him. How does she know about the snogging scale? My mum is obviously part crap mother and part seeing-ear dog.

The next message was from Josh’s mum, saying, “After Josh came home with a Mohican haircut I don’t think it is a good idea that he comes round to play with Libby again. I am frankly puzzled as to why she had bread knives and scissors in her bedroom. Also I cannot get the blue make-up off his eyes. I suspect it is indelible ink, which means the word BUM on his forehead will take many hours to get off.”

There was a bit more rambling and moaning, but the gist is that Josh is banned from playing with my little sister Libby.

Dear Gott in Himmel.

And that was it. No message from the Luuurve God. It’s been a week now. I wonder why he hasn’t called? Has he gone off me?

Maybe I did something wrong when we last saw each other.

One minute later

But it was so vair vair gorgey porgey.

One minute later

He said, “We like each other. It will be good, Miss Georgia.”

One minute later

What he didn’t say was, “I will call you as soon as I get there.”

One minute later

Or “I will pay your airfare to Rome, you entrancing Sex Kitty.”

Ten minutes later

God, I am so bored. And my bottom still hurts from my falling-in-the-river fiasco. So I can’t even sit down properly.

One minute later

I wonder if Dave the Laugh will tell Emma about our accidental number four episode. Probably not. After all, it didn’t mean anything and, as he said, we are mates in a matey way. And what goes on in the woods stays in the woods.

Thirty seconds later

Hmmm. He also said in the woods that he has always really liked me. Maybe he meant that in a matey-type mate way.

One minute later

Will I tell Masimo?

One minute later

If he doesn’t ring me, I won’t have to make the decision. Anyway, it was only an accidental number four, verging on the number five. It could happen to anyone.

One minute later

It could happen to Masimo and his ex-girlfriend. What was her name? Gina. Yes, it might happen if, for instance, she happened to be in Rome.

One minute later

Even if she is not there, I bet he and his mates will be roaring round Rome on their scooters smiling at all the girls in their red bikinis or whatever it is they wear there.

Probably nothing. They probably go to work in the nuddy-pants because they are wild and free Pizza-a-gogo types. They don’t have inhibitions like us, they just thrust their nungas forward proudly and untamed. Probably.

In my bedroom looking in the mirror