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Thank the Lord, Grandad has gone. Unfortunately not before giving me a present from his “girlfriend” Maisie. I am sorry I ever suggested that Grandad was mad. His girlfriend has reached new and giddy heights of bonkerosity. Have you ever been given knitted toeless socks? In green, yellow and purple?
No, I thought not.
Grandad is going to house-sit the kittykats for the week we are away.
I said to Mutti, “Let’s just burn the house to the ground before we go. Because that’s what it will be like when we get back. Face it.”
Mum said, “You are so rude, Georgia. You’ll be old one day yourself.”
I was going to go put my toeless socks on to give her the gist of what I was saying about the elderly insane, but then I realised I was on a charm mission. Also, Jas’s parents were coming round in half an hour. So I said, “Shall I make some snacks for when Jas’s M and D come round?”
She looked at me as if I had turned into a talking egg.
Even Gordy stopped eating Mum’s mules and looked at me with one eye.
9:30 p.m.
Phew. Jas and I did secret thumbsie-upsies as she and her mutti and vati left. Yessssss! And thrice yesss! We are off to Hamburger-a-gogo land!!
Jas has got one hundred squids for spendies.
How far can Memphis be from where Masimo is? Wherever that is.
11:00 p.m.
All’s well that ends well. Libby is in her own bed with Barbie and Our Lord Sandra, and the big cats have been thrown outside to lay waste to the vole population. Gordy is in his basket in the kitchen. So I can get some wellearned beauty sleep. My nose doesn’t seem any more swollen than normal.
11:15 p.m.
Dad says that Elvis Presley lived in Memphis and he was a musician (not that you would know that from the crap songs that Dad sings). Anyway, he was a musician and Masimo is a musician, ergo Memphis must be somewhere that musicians hang out.
Midnight
Pray God that Dad doesn’t take his Elvis Presley quiff with him. Sometimes for a “joke” he sticks the quiff on and starts shaking his hips about. It’s disgusting – and also probably very dangerous hipwise for a man of his years.
He and his lardy mates, the “lads” think it’s hilarious.
It isn’t.
12:05 a.m.
Anyway, what do I care, I am on Cloud Nine in Luuurve Heaven.
We go on 22nd May, which is eleven days away. I am sooooo excited.
12:10 a.m.
Hawkeye called me a ninny and said that I “had the attention span of a pea” but what she doesn’t know is that I have powers of discipline that would surprise a lot of people who accuse me of laziosity. When I put my mind to it I can do stuff. For instance, even though I’m tired now and it’s midnight, it is imperative that I get up and go to the bathroom and cleanse and tone my…zzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Thursday May 12
Ten days to Hamburger-a-gogo land on the way to school
“Jas, I am so vair vair full to the brim with excitementosity. Aren’t you?”
“Hmmm.”
“Yes, so am I. Let’s sing ‘New York, New York’ to get us in the mood.”
“No.”
“That’s the spirit. You see, that is why coming to Hamburger-a-gogo is sooo good for you – it will broaden what there is of your mind.”
I started to sing, “I want to be a part of it, New York, New YORK!!!!!”
I stopped because of intense pensioner-glaring when we passed the post office.
Jas was slouching along by my side like a trusty…badger.
“Jas, why do they call it that? New York, New York? We don’t say London, London, do we?”
“Hmmmm.”
“Perhaps it’s because Hamburgese people are a bit on the slow side and don’t get it immediately, so they have to say it twice.”
9:30 p.m.
Vati made us watch a really old film tonight with John Wayne in it.
Midnight
I was right to be worried about them being a bit on the slow side. Crikey, John Waaaaaaayne speaks slowly. If all Americans speak so slowly, I’ll be there all day queueing up behind people as they ask for a cup of “caaaaaawwwwwfffeeeee”. (And I won’t even know why I am in the queue, as I don’t even like caawwfffee.)
Also, if Dad doesn’t stop singing Elvis songs I may go insane.
Friday May 13th
Nine days to Hamburger-a-gogo land Dawn
Dad burst into my room in his pyjamas and Elvis quiff, singing “Heartbreak Hotel”.
Still, now that I’m up, I’ll make a list of stuff to take to Hamburger-a-gogo.
7:25 a.m.
This is my packing list:
1 Make-up essentials
2 Really gorgey clothes
I’ve gathered my make-up essentials together and they fill a suitcase.
I wonder if I can get Jazzy to put some of my make-up in her bag. Mind you, knowing her, she’s already filled her bag with her ginormous knickers – or big “panties”, as we must learn to call them now.
Although “big panties” reminds me of incontinent knickers.
Still, let the Americans have it their way. I love them all. And I mean that most sincerely. Even though I have never met them.
Chaos headquarters 8:00 a.m.
Mutti was dragging Gordy out of Libby’s rucksack, and Libby was hitting Mum on the head with her spoon.
“Bad Mummy, bad.”
Libby had hidden Gordy in her rucky because she wanted to take him to nursery school with her. But even Mum noticed the rucksack walking around by itself.
Then the phone rang.
Mutti yelled at me, “Get that, Georgia, it’s bound to be one of your daft friends.”
Oh, that is nice, isn’t it? It’s much more likely to be one of her daft friends.
I answered it and said, “Yes, hello. Reception speaking, Hotel Insane.”
It was Dave the Laugh. Oh my giddy God, and I hadn’t even got any lip gloss on.
He said, “Hi, Sex Kitty, Hornmeister here. I’m in a hurry, but thought you would like to know that the extremely flash Masimo, who I personally feel might be on the gay side handbagwise—”
“Dave…”
“OK, OK. All I can find out is that he is staying in Manhattan and his surname is Scarlotti.”
I said, “Oh, thank you thank you, Dave.”
“It’s cool. I’m sure we can think of some way you can repay me – it may involve heavy snogging. Bye.”
And he put the phone down.
Yipppppeeeee!!!
Manhattan, here I come!
8:30 a.m.
Ran to meet Jas.
She was all flustered like a fringey loon.
I said, “Howdy.”
“Come on, Georgia, we’ll be late.”
As we galloped along, I said, “I am going to speak American all day today.”
Jas went, pant pant, “They speak English.”
I said, “Don’t be mad,” pant pant.
We arrived on time, but only just. Wet Lindsay was on sadist duty. She looked at us as we panted by her like we were a couple of turds in uniform.
“Can’t you two grow up and be on time for once?”
I gave her a big smile while gazing at her ear, and said, “Howdy. Now you all have a nice day. You hear?”
She stomped off to terrorise some first formers, but she was fingering her lugholes. Hahahahahaha. And also hasta la vista, baby.
Maths
God, maths is boring. And complete bollocks.
When I marry Masimo, I will have manservants to do my adding up for me.
And my quadratic equations, which I will never use.
Lunchtime Operation Track Down the Luuurve God
Made Jas come to the library with me.
Miss Wilson almost fell off her stool when we came in.
I calmed her by saying, “Alrighty? Now you all have a nice day.”
We lugged the big atlas to a table, and I leafed through the maps until I got to America and found New York, New York.
I said to Jas, “Now, where is Memphis, Memphis?”
Jas found it and said, “It looks a bit far down.”
For once she is not wrong. On the plus side, Manhattan is only about an eighth of an inch long.
But it is about two feet from Memphis.
Still, there must be buses. Surely?
4:30 p.m.
On the way home I was singing “Home, home on the range, where the deer and the antelope play” to Jazzy. She loves a bit of a singsong.
