Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 07 by Startled by His Furry Shorts Page A

I’m Down.”
    five minutes later
    Dad has brought out a cake with a huge Roman candle in the middle of it.
    one minute later
    Dad is making a crap speech, which fortunately I can’t hear, but I can see his chins wiggling about, so he must think its funny.
    one minute later
    Now he is bending over and lighting the Roman candle.
    one minute later
    Absolutely top!!! Dad has set fire to his own mustache. Blazing!
    I think I can sleep easy now. Life does indeed have a bright side.
    tuesday june 28th
    Dad at breakfast today being very quiet. I notice he is clean shaven. I said to him, “Vati, what has happened to the little beaver that used to live on the end of your chin?”
    But he didn’t even bother to reply, just grumped around and went off to “work.”
    11:00 a.m.
    On my way to English I stopped off in the tarts’ wardrobe because I had an unexpected piddly diddly urge. When I came out by myself, I saw Lindsay.
    Octopushead is back. Will we never be free? She was walking along on her twiglike legs swishing her naff extensions around. I ignored her but she had something to say. “Georgia Nicolson, well, well, without your silly mates for once. I’m glad that you took my advice about Masimo, I’d like to say you were sadly missed at the club last night, but you weren’t. Anyway, we stayed up till way past your bedtime, it was gone 9:30.”
    She knows, she knows. Masimo must have told her what happened. Oh this is sooooo horrible, I don’t think I can stand it.
    english
gym
    I can’t think of anything except the fact that Lindsay knows about what happened. Miss Wilson wants us to “get in the mood” for MacUseless , so we arehaving yet another workshop fiasco in the gym.
    Miss Wilson was rambling on in her sad pinafore dress. Yes, pinafore dress. She was saying, “Oh this is so exciting. Only days to go till the big night. Come on! Let’s get the energy really building. Let’s feel that energy, girls!”
    Whilst she did that, we all lay down on the gym mats. Or in Rosie’s case, hung upside down on the wall bars. Like a bat in frilly black knickers. Mr. Attwood will be in in a minute with his perv antenna on high alert.
    Miss Wilson was trying to get our attention by clapping. Good luck.
    She said, “Girls, can I…could I just get you to…er, Rosie would you mind coming down from the wall bars, and the girls under the vaulting horse, would you just come out now. I want us to begin today’s intensive workshop by getting into different characters physically.”
    I said to Jools, “Lord save us, we aren’t going to have to be vegetables again, are we? I’m not in the mood for cabbage dancing or whatever.”
    Eventually we all got up and Miss Wilson shouted stuff out and we had to do it.
    She said, “Macbeth is tortured by his actions,how does that feel? What does it look like? No, Rosie, I don’t think that Macbeth would, erm, hang himself with a skipping rope. Can you just put it down now. Right, first of all, imagine the weary walk of someone who is feeling very depressed.”
    Brilliant. Thank you, God. Not.
    ten minutes later
    Actually, even though I didn’t have to imagine the weary walk of someone who is very depressed, because I WAS someone who was feeling very depressed, I did begin to cheer up at the comedy opportunities of the class. The ace gang did marvelous group limping as the Hunchbacks of Notre Dame.
    Miss Wilson said, “Very good, girls, but perhaps the person is not crippled, just very depressed. And perhaps depression doesn’t always involve so much dribbling. Let your imaginations flow. When I clap my hands and shout out, the next person quickly change into character…and (clap)…now be a happy slender young girl hurrying to meet her boyfriend…and CHANGE.”
    Oh the cruelty of life. If God is omniwhatsit, surely he is having a laugh. At me. First a