The Taming Of The Tights. Louise Rennison
Читать онлайн.| Название | The Taming Of The Tights |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Louise Rennison |
| Жанр | Детская проза |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Детская проза |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn | 9780007476404 |
First published in Great Britain in hardback
by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2013
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins
HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication
Copyright © Louise Rennison 2013
Source ISBN 9780007323920
Ebook Edition © July 2013 ISBN: 9780007476404
Version: 2018-07-16
Dear Eagle-eyed mates,
Some of you may remember that in ‘A Midsummer Tights Dream’
I hilariously (in my opinion) mentioned that my mum and sister
would not let me have the dead rabbit in Cain’s hand wave its
paw bye-bye to Tallulah.
I said at the time (and I’m not wrong) that it is a tip-top comedy idea.
But oh no – my so-called family said it would make me seem ‘childish’ – which clearly I am not. Anyway, I hid this book from them so
the crying rabbit is in, see here.
So ha ha ha ha for calling me childish.
Peace.
To my Family Tree and my Tree Sisters and Tree Brothers and
to the various saps – I mean – saplings. Also to the naughty
Skipton Flossies (Katie and Eve).
And of course to the Tree Doctors with their Tree pruning,
Tree mulching and their Tree hugging: Gillie, Lizzie, Tara,
Elorine, Clare, Cassie (actually officially a sap) and Gillon xxxx
CONTENTS
Chapter 1: Filling my tights again
Chapter 2: Lullah’s Lulu-luuuve List
Chapter 3: Return of the lunatic twins
Chapter 4: Snogs ahoy!
Chapter 5: The Blubberhouses Large Ladies Who Pole Dance For Fun Society
Chapter 6: Boy Ambush
Chapter 7: You don’t want to do any more winking back
Chapter 8: The fire escape of desire
Chapter 9: I’ve eaten snail shells
Chapter 10: Snogging and Jazzles
Chapter 11: The magic of puppetry
Chapter 12: Return of the beast in trousers
Chapter 13: See you there, cheeky miss
Chapter 14: My inner snogger
Chapter 15: Naughty bumberskite
Chapter 16: The church bells of doom
Chapter 17: Should I put nail varnish on my hoofs?
Chapter 18: The Dark Black Crow of Heckmondwhite
Chapter 19: He’s got the right amount of lip
Chapter 20: Praise the knees!
Chapter 21: Fir-cone earrings and knitted onesies
Chapter 22: The Taming of the Tights
Extract: The Corker-holding with winter socks scene
Georgia’s Ace Gang Snogging Scale
Woo-hoo! And chug-a-lug-a-ding-dong. I’m on the train, chugging back to Dother Hall, the Theatre of Dreams.
Once more getting ready to fill my performance tights! Chasing the golden slippers of success! Preparing to let my feet bleed if necessary. That’s what Sidone Beaver, our headmistress, says we must do if we want to be stars in the thea-tah, dahlings!!! And this term I’m going to fill my tights as much as is humanly possible!!!!
Who would have thought that I, me, Tallulah Casey, a gangly Irish person, would be back here for the autumn term at a Performing Arts College in the heart of the famous Dales of Yorkshire? Ooh, I think we’re stopping at Skipley station. I’ll get my case down and hop off.
Uuuumph. Jumping Jehosophat and his dad, it’s bouncing down. Skipley is famous for its otters. I’m not surprised. If this rain keeps up, I’ll be part otter by Wednesday.
Skipley is so proud of its otters that the station sign reads Skipley Home of the West Riding Otter.
But last time I was here some Yorkshire hooligan altered the sign so it read Skipley Home of the West Riding Botty.
Honestly …
I am squelching across towards it. That’s where Cain was standing when I left at the end of last term. Cain Hinchcliff. Local bad boy made … er, bad.
I remember him winking at me as the train pulled out. With his dark hair whipping around his face and his dark eyes looking and looking at me. Licking