Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 09 by Stop in the Name of Pants!

wonder if Mum has one lurking about in her drawers. Oo-er.
    in mum’s bedroom
    Honestly, this house is like living in a tart’s handbag. I’ve found a card but it is of a girl walking by with huge nunga nungas and a bloke on a veg stand holding two melons in front of his chest and the caption is “Phwoar, what a lovely pair of melons.” What is the matter with my parents?
    two minutes later
    But even if I did manage to send a card, when would I say I was coming? I still haven’t managed to steer the conversation around to Mutti and Vati giving me the spondulies for my trip.
    one minute later
    However, I have more than romance on my mind. Masimo will have to understand that my career comes first sometimes. There is a rehearsal round at Rosie’s tonight for our planned dance inferno extravaganza, so I’d better get my dance tights out.
    sunday august 7th
    Waited for the postie at the gate yesterday, but he didn’t have any letters for me. I asked the postie ifhe was hiding my mail, but he didn’t even bother to reply.
    More damned rehearsals for Sven’s djing night. I am so vair vair tired. I am a slave to my art.
    9:45 p.m.
    I am quite tuckered out with dancing. Even though it is still practically the afternoon, I may as well go to bed.
    in bed
    Sven turned up at Rosie’s whilst we were there and snogged the pants off her (oo-er).
    We all felt like a basket of goosegogs.
    In fact when we were walking home, Jas said, “I felt a bit jealous.”
    I tutted.
    But actually I felt a bit jealous as well.
    in my room
9:50 p.m.
    The door slammed and I heard Vati come in. Accompanied by Uncle Eddie, a.k.a. the baldy-o-gram since he took up taking his clothes off for women. They pay him to do it, that is the weird thing.
    Dad yelled, “The vati and the baldy-o-gram are home, sensation seekers!”
    ten minutes later
    I can hear the sound of sizzling from the kitchen and the cats are going bananas. That will be the twenty-five sausages each that Dad and his not very slim bald mate will be having.
    Now I can hear the spluttering of cans of lager being opened.
    Neither of them will be able to get through the kitchen door at this rate.
    five minutes later
    They must have chucked a couple of sausages out into the garden for Angus and the pussycat gang because there is a lot of yowling and spitting going on.
    And barking.
    And yelling.
    Oh, here we go now. Mr. Next Door is on the warpath.
    I looked carefully through the curtains as I didn’t want the finger of shame pointing my way.
    Yes, there was Mr. Next Door in his combatgear (slippers and terry toweling robe), shouting out, “Clear off!!!”
    He’s a fool, really. Angus will think he wants to play the sausage game with the Prat poodles.
    one minute later
    Ah, yes. Angus has bounded over the garden wall and he is having a sausage tug-of-war with Whitey. Mr. Next Door has gone for his broom.
    I’m not going to look anymore as I may accidentally glimpse Mr. Next Door’s exposed bottom in the furor.
    10:15 p.m.
    Dad and the baldy-o-gram are arsing about laughing and giggling like ninnies in the front room. Then Dad yelled upstairs, “Georgia, my dove, your pater and his friend are engaged in a very serious business matter, would you get another couple of cans from the wine cellar. You may know it as the ‘fridge.’ Thank you so much.”
    I just shouted down, “Not in a million years, O Portly One.”
    He shouted back, “I will give you a fiver.”
    Huh, as if bribery is going to make me his slavey girl.
    two minutes later
    When I went into the front room with the cans of lager, Dad was lying on the sofa like a great bearded whale.
    Uncle Eddie winked at me as I came in.
    Dad said, “So, Eddie, what is your life like, now that you are a sex symbol?”
    Uncle Eddie belched (charming) and said, “Well, Bob, Georgia, it has its ups and downs like most celebrity lives. For