‘… then he ate my boy entrancers.’. Louise Rennison

just can’t stand this hanging around waiting to go on the Luuurve Plane.

      Come on come on!!!

      I’ve been trying out arrival outfits. Boots or shoes? It’s hard to know what to do weatherwise. Also, I may have to go from day wear to evening wear, depending on the timezone business.

      I am practising speaking Hamburgese, even in my own head. The key seems to be to add stuff, so instead of weather you say weatherwise. Timewise. Daywise. Luuurvewise, etc.

      But on a more seriouswise note, this time business is v.v. aggravating fashionwise.

      I said to Jas on the phone (she is opting for sensible sports casual for travelling)…I said to her (Mistress of the Time Lords), “Are we flying backwards in time, or what?”

      “Yeah, they are six hours behind us.”

      “Why are they? Why can’t they just keep up with us? Didn’t we invent time?”

      “What?”

      “You know, Greenwich Mean Time – didn’t we invent it? So why can’t they just be the same as us?”

      “Because they would be getting up in the middle of the night.”

      “So?”

      But you can’t reason with Jas.

      Wednesday May 18^th

      Four days to Hamburger-a-gogo land Evening

      Grandad has come round for instructions about looking after the house and cats.

      I am still in a ditherspaz about what to wear. I’ve been through all of my clothes about a million times.

      Still, on the plus side, I have definitely decided what to wear nailwise. I’ve chosen Pouting Pink.

      I am absolutely full of exhaustiosity.

      8:15 p.m.

      Dragged myself downstairs for a reviving snack.

      In the front room

      Grandad started fiddling about in his pockets.

      “I’ve got something for you.”

      Oh, joy unbounded. A boiled sweet.

      I love him and everything, but why does he have to be so, you know…so…grandadish?

      The TV was on, with my extremely unfit vati lolling around in front of it. As I sat down to try and get my tights away from Gordy, Vati said, “Now then, Georgia, why don’t you tell me how much spending money you expect for the holiday. Then we’ll have a good laugh and go from there.”

      Vair vair amusing. Sadly though, I have to humour him. I said, “Well, it’s only for a week, isn’t it? And we’ve got the hotel rooms and food and so on, so actually, all in all, I think a thousand quid would just about cover it if I don’t buy anything extravagant.”

      Mum said, “Don’t be silly, Georgia.”

      Grandad said, “Do you remember when you took Georgia to the doctor’s surgery when she was a couple of weeks old?”

      Mum ruffled my hair (very annoying) and looked all nostalgic. “I remember every single thing about your life, darling girl. You’ve been a pleasure and joy to me from the moment you were born.”

      Dad said, “Bloody hell, Connie! Calm down.”

      But Mum had gone off into Mumland, “Do you know you had no hair when you were born – all baldy, like Uncle Eddie. So sweet.”

      Oh God.