did a few lines, then I got bored so I wrote a song about boys not phoning. Then I had an idea. Miss Hartley said if anyone speaks we’d get another fifteen minutes. She didn’t
say anything about singing.
It is Christmas after all. I started up a hymn and soon everyone joined in.
‘ We Three Kings of Orient are,
One in a taxi, one in a car,
One on his scooter,
Tooting his hooter,
Following yonder star.’
At last, term was over. A Merry Christmas one and all.
Cut the Connection
by Izzie Foster
You think you’re going out tonight, but you’ll be staying in,
You’ll sigh, you’ll cry, you’ll wonder why the phone will never ring.
You know he’s playing games like every other boy,
But you don’t care though you’re aware he treats you like a toy.
He says he’ll be there for you when all the chips are down,
But he’s said the same to every girl in town.
He doesn’t care you’re in despair as tears burn in your eyes.
You’ll sigh, you’ll cry, you’ll wonder why all he says is lies.
Cut the connection, turn off the phone, grab hold of life and you won’t be alone.
Believe in yourself and no one else and you’ll find that you have grown.
So cut the connection, turn off the phone, grab hold of life and you won’t be alone.
Chapter 12
Happy Eater
The next morning , Mum was up early and decorating our Christmas tree in her usual immaculate manner. White and silver, each bauble placed with
precision and each necklace of tinsel making a perfect circle round the branches. What a contrast to the tree at Lucy’s, I thought. Theirs looks like someone got out a box of coloured balls
and tinsel and threw it at the tree. Mum’s does look nice though, elegant, very Homes and Gardens.
‘Want to help?’ asked Mum.
‘Not really,’ I said, flopping on one of the sofas. I knew from past experience there wasn’t much point. She had it very clear in her head what she wanted it to look like and
I’d be bound to put a star or something in the wrong place.
‘What’s up, Izzie?’ asked Mum, putting down the tinsel and sitting on the sofa opposite me.
‘Nothing,’ I said.
‘Oh, that again,’ she smiled. ‘Nothing always gets me down as well.’
‘It’s just, I dunno, end of term and everything . . .’
‘You’re usually ecstatic at the end of term.’
‘Yeah, but you know, I dunno . . .’
Mum sat, looking at me with concern. ‘I do wish you’d talk to me, Izzie. Perhaps I can help.’
No chance, I thought. No one can help.
‘I just feel I think one thing then go and do another. Like I’ve been trying to eat healthily then I decided I could have the odd treat. Then found I was having loads of
treats and only the odd healthy thing. I can’t even get that right. I’m hopeless.’
‘You’re only human, Iz,’ said Mum. ‘But it’s not just that, is it?’
I shrugged.
‘Is it that boy who called?’ Mum asked.
‘Who didn’t call, you mean,’ I said. ‘And I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.’
‘Probably nothing. Boys can be strange creatures. Call when you don’t expect but never when you do.’
‘Tell me about it,’ I said. ‘There should be classes in all that Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus stuff. You know, we do all these classes in school but none of
it really helps. Not with real life.’
‘I know,’ said Mum. ‘I remember when I was your age, or perhaps a little older, and just getting interested in boys. All the Latin, maths and literature wasn’t much use
when I had a crush on someone.’
‘That’s just it. No one teaches you how to handle it. What to do if he phones, or doesn’t? I seem to have got it all wrong.’
Mum smiled. ‘Our school wasn’t much help either. It was a very strict convent school. At least you get some sex education these days. I remember when I was about sixteen, we were all
called into see the Mother Superior who explained about periods. “It happens to everyone, even the Virgin Mary,”
say anything about singing.
It is Christmas after all. I started up a hymn and soon everyone joined in.
‘ We Three Kings of Orient are,
One in a taxi, one in a car,
One on his scooter,
Tooting his hooter,
Following yonder star.’
At last, term was over. A Merry Christmas one and all.
Cut the Connection
by Izzie Foster
You think you’re going out tonight, but you’ll be staying in,
You’ll sigh, you’ll cry, you’ll wonder why the phone will never ring.
You know he’s playing games like every other boy,
But you don’t care though you’re aware he treats you like a toy.
He says he’ll be there for you when all the chips are down,
But he’s said the same to every girl in town.
He doesn’t care you’re in despair as tears burn in your eyes.
You’ll sigh, you’ll cry, you’ll wonder why all he says is lies.
Cut the connection, turn off the phone, grab hold of life and you won’t be alone.
Believe in yourself and no one else and you’ll find that you have grown.
So cut the connection, turn off the phone, grab hold of life and you won’t be alone.
Chapter 12
Happy Eater
The next morning , Mum was up early and decorating our Christmas tree in her usual immaculate manner. White and silver, each bauble placed with
precision and each necklace of tinsel making a perfect circle round the branches. What a contrast to the tree at Lucy’s, I thought. Theirs looks like someone got out a box of coloured balls
and tinsel and threw it at the tree. Mum’s does look nice though, elegant, very Homes and Gardens.
‘Want to help?’ asked Mum.
‘Not really,’ I said, flopping on one of the sofas. I knew from past experience there wasn’t much point. She had it very clear in her head what she wanted it to look like and
I’d be bound to put a star or something in the wrong place.
‘What’s up, Izzie?’ asked Mum, putting down the tinsel and sitting on the sofa opposite me.
‘Nothing,’ I said.
‘Oh, that again,’ she smiled. ‘Nothing always gets me down as well.’
‘It’s just, I dunno, end of term and everything . . .’
‘You’re usually ecstatic at the end of term.’
‘Yeah, but you know, I dunno . . .’
Mum sat, looking at me with concern. ‘I do wish you’d talk to me, Izzie. Perhaps I can help.’
No chance, I thought. No one can help.
‘I just feel I think one thing then go and do another. Like I’ve been trying to eat healthily then I decided I could have the odd treat. Then found I was having loads of
treats and only the odd healthy thing. I can’t even get that right. I’m hopeless.’
‘You’re only human, Iz,’ said Mum. ‘But it’s not just that, is it?’
I shrugged.
‘Is it that boy who called?’ Mum asked.
‘Who didn’t call, you mean,’ I said. ‘And I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.’
‘Probably nothing. Boys can be strange creatures. Call when you don’t expect but never when you do.’
‘Tell me about it,’ I said. ‘There should be classes in all that Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus stuff. You know, we do all these classes in school but none of
it really helps. Not with real life.’
‘I know,’ said Mum. ‘I remember when I was your age, or perhaps a little older, and just getting interested in boys. All the Latin, maths and literature wasn’t much use
when I had a crush on someone.’
‘That’s just it. No one teaches you how to handle it. What to do if he phones, or doesn’t? I seem to have got it all wrong.’
Mum smiled. ‘Our school wasn’t much help either. It was a very strict convent school. At least you get some sex education these days. I remember when I was about sixteen, we were all
called into see the Mother Superior who explained about periods. “It happens to everyone, even the Virgin Mary,”
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