Withering Tights. Louise Rennison

do love Georgia and wish I lived near her. I haven’t got a sister and it’s not the same having a brother. Connor mostly likes to talk about what he’s going to kick next.

      And that I am like a daddy long-legs in a skirt.

      And how he could win a kicking contest with a daddy long-legs.

      Is that normal in a boy?

      Well, all will be revealed when I start my new life at Dother Hall.

      Georgia’s also given me a secret note to read on my first day at college. She says she will write to me. But will she?

      I will look at the college brochure again to get me in the creative zone.

      Let me see.

      Aaaaaah, yes, yes. These are my kind of people.

      This is more like it.

      Here is a photo of a girl leaping around in the dance studio. The caption says:

       Eliza loses herself in the beauty of modern dance.

      As far as dancewear is concerned Eliza has gone for big tights.

      As indeed she needs to.

      Oh and here’s a photo of a boy.

      What on earth is he holding?

      Let’s see.

      The caption says:

       Martin has made an instrument. Here he is holding his own small lute.

      Crumbs.

      Martin has got very bright lips.

      Perhaps he is a mouth-breather, that makes your lips go very red.

      Or perhaps it is lipstick.

      I suppose anything goes in the crazy world of dance and theatre! Hey nonny no, this is my new world, the world of showbiz!

      But what if the course is full of people who can sing and dance and everything, and are really confident?

      And hate me because of my nobbly kneecaps?

      Uh-oh, we are arriving at my station. I must get my bag down. I’ll get up on the seat and try and reach it…Oh great balls of fire, I’ve just accidentally kicked Mr Squirrel as he was getting up.

      What does, “You great big dunderwhelp, use your bloody gogglers!” mean in English?

      I bet it’s not nice.

      His wife said, “Take no notice, love, if there was a moaning medal, he’d win it hands down.”

      I let them get off first.

      How come everyone else in my family is the right height and I have knees that are four feet above the ground?

      I swung the train door open and saw the sign:

       SKIPLEYhome of theWest Riding Otter

      There was a little bus to take us into Heckmondwhite. I didn’t know sheep could go on buses, but they can. One was sitting next to me. Not on its own I mean. It hadn’t just got on with its bus pass. There was a woman in wellingtons holding it.

      She said to me, “I’d sit upwind if I were thee, love.”

      We bundled along on the bus on a road that went up and down dales. Along the skyline I could see the moorland dotted with craggy outcrops.

      The sheep woman said, “That’s Grimbottom Peak, when a fog comes down you can’t see your chin in front of you. Perilous.”

      Heckmondwhite was just like a proper village. It had a village green, and a pub, and a post office, a church and a hall and everything. Like a postcard of Emmerdale. But without the murders. Or a plane landing on it and wiping out the whole cast. So far.

      I found the Dobbins’ house just off the green round the corner from the village shop, like the directions said. I’m not allowed to stay at Dother Hall because I was the last one to apply for the course and there was no room in the dormitory.

      And do you know why? It’s because I haven’t got normal parents. If I had ordinary parents like everyone else they would have booked early. But oh no, I had to wait until Dad could get to the post office in Kathmandu so that we could phone him. Why is he there anyway? He’s probably found the only bearded ant on the planet. Or the last of the Ice Age big-bottomed goats. He loves that sort of thing. He is like a cross between David Bellamy and an excitable Great Dane.

      And my parents don’t live together.

      Why couldn’t they just stay together, in the same place?

      And if they weren’t going to stay together, why couldn’t they hate each other, like normal people?

      Why do they have to be such great mates?

      Well, at least the Dobbins will be normal people, married and so on. They might turn out to be really cool. I expect they will be. They must be quite laid back and avant garde to take us ‘artists’ in.

      I opened the little gate and walked up the path to knock on the front door. I wonder if I will be in my own sort of extension bit? I expect so. Maybe with that ‘loft living’ sort of furniture. All minimal and shiny surfaces and a Jacuzzi bath. I hope they’ve got Sky because…

      The door opened. And a woman in a Brown Owl uniform said, “Tallulah! Yoo-hoo!! Aren’t you nice and tall!! Come in, come in. Mind your head on the low—Oh dear. Never mind. Harold is out running the Christian Youth Table Tennis Club, but the twins will be back from Playdough Hour in a minute.”

      Mrs Dobbins, or ‘Call me Dibdobs, everyone does’, gave me a long hug. She’s very pink and enthusiastic. And covered in badges. One of them said, ‘Knots. Advanced.’

      She took my bag in her sturdy arms and showed me up to my room at the top of the house.

      My room is mostly wood, with wood extras. It is quite literally loft living in the sense that it IS a loft.

      Dibdobs said, “I’m going to make us a traditional tea to welcome you. So make yourself at home. You can see for miles from your window.”

      She beamed at me through her roundy glasses. She said, “Oooh isn’t this exciting??”

      And gave me another big hug.

      I wonder if she has got a ‘hugging’ badge? Probably.

      As she went off down the steep wooden steps singing, “Bring me sunshine in your smile, Bring me laughter all the while…lalalalala,” I looked around my new bijoux home.

      It’s a sweet room really, you know, good, but I thought going to performing arts college might be more…gooderer.

      I went to the window.

      Yep, you could see for miles.

      And do you know what you could see for miles? Sheep.

      Oh no, there are some pigs.

      I put my bag down on the bed. My bed, by the way, is wooden. It’s got wood-carvings all over it. Even the bedhead has got furry things carved into it. Squirrels I think. Or maybe hairy, long-tailed slugs.

      I unpacked my suitcase and hung my clothes up in the (wooden) wardrobe. I must start planning what to wear for my first day at Dother Hall. It will be weird not having to wear a really crap uniform. I wonder if we are allowed make-up? At my school, if we had worn make-up we would have had our heads cut off. And put on the school gates as a warning to others.

      But hahahahaha I am on my own now.

      I am flying solo.

      I can cover myself in lipstick from head to foot if I feel like it.

      Not that I will, actually, as I have only got one lipstick.

      I need to get a lot more.

      I