Are these my basoomas I see before me?. Louise Rennison

Kamyer looked like a goldfish in a knitted tie. He said, “I’m afraid I do not know dis expression.”

      I said, “It is int der Bible, Herr Kamyer, int der Song of Songen. It ist about der Knutschen!”

      Rosie was in her own German snogging world by now.

      She said, “Would it be Abscheidskuss?”

      I said, “Or perhaps AUF GANZE GEHEN!!!!!!!”

      4:30 p.m. Walking home with the gang.

      Funnily enough, I sort of forgot about the Luuurve God for a while. But after the others had gone I felt really miz.

      I let myself in to my “home”.

      No one in.

      Do you know, Jas even knows what she is going to have for supper most nights.

      More to the point, she GETS some supper.

      Still, as long as my mum can waggle her enormous basoomas around in the swimming pool with her mates.

      That’s what counts.

      Two minutes later Had a bowl of Shreddies. The milk was past its sell-by date so with my luck I’ll get milkytosis. Which will make my nostrils flare up to twice their size, and I will start eating grass.

      In the front room Libby, my charming but insane little sister, has christened the budgie Bum-ty.

      Bum-ty doesn’t look very chirpy.

      Who would with two cats staring at you.

      Have they been there all day?

      5:30 p.m. Ooooh, I am so vair bored. And depressed at the same time.

      6:00 p.m. The Family Mad have come in.

      And Uncle Eddie is here. Hurray!!!

      They caught me by surprise so I couldn’t barricade myself in my room.

      Uncle Eddie larged in first.

      He said, “I’ve got one for you. Two nuns driving along at night on a lonely forest road and a vampire leaps out and on to the bonnet. The nun who’s driving says to the other nun, ‘Quick, show him your cross!’ and the second nun shouts, ‘Get off the bloody bonnet!’!!!!!”

      And he went wheezing and cackling off into the kitchen.

      Grown women pay money to see him taking his clothes off to music.

      I don’t know what to say.

      Yes I do.

      I would pay him not to take his clothes off.

      In fact, I might go along one night to one of his baldyman gigs and shout, “Get ’em on!!!”

      No. I won’t do that.

      I may as well go and get my jimjams on. When you are visiting the cakeshop of agony, they don’t mind what you wear in there. Most of their customers are in their jimjams. With big swollen eyes. And covered in dribble.

      God, I am really depressed now.

      In the lounge in my jimjams Vati came in with a pork pie. Taking his health seriously then.

      He said, “What’s the matter with you?”

      Not that he cares.

      I said, “I’m depressed actually.”

      He said, “Depressed, at your age? You’ll be saying you’re bored next.”

      “That is what I was going to say next.”

      Vati looked at me and sat down. He patted my knee with his pork-pie-free hand.

      Oh dear God, he had touched my jimjams.

      He said, “Do you know what my mum used to say when I was bored?”

      Oh, this would be good. It was bound to be something to do with making hats out of eggboxes.

      I was about to say, “I’m bored enough as it is without you telling me about prehistoric hats.”

      But he was rambling on.

      “She used to say, ‘I’ll tell you what…bang your head against a wall and that will take your mind off it.’”

      Charming.

      In bed 7:00 p.m. I can hear Libby trying to teach Bum-ty the words to “Dancing Bean”.

      I think Bum-ty might not be long for this world. He’s got two cats staring at him night and day and now a mad toddler is shoving a sausage through the cage and singing.

      Three pairs of mad eyes looking at you.

      7:30 p.m. Was that a scooter coming near?

      7:32 p.m. No.

      Oh, good. Now I’m having hallucinations.

      Of the earhole.

      Ear-lucinations.

      7:55 p.m. No.

      Oh yes.

      Oh my God.

      It IS a scooter coming up the road.

      I looked through the window.

      It was Masimo!!!!

      Oh merde.

      I hadn’t got time to do anything.

      I was in my jimjams.

      I had plaited all my hair because I was so bored and depressed.

      I ran down to the front room and said, “Mum, quick, I need you.”

      For once, Mum did what I asked her.

      I told her to tell Masimo that I was out.

      As the scooter came to a halt outside, I was scarpering up the stairs and I whispered to her, “Don’t start a conversation with him, will you? Don’t tell him about yourself.”

      She said, “Don’t make me change my mind.”

      And at the top of the stairs I said, “Don’t let him see Dad in his leisure trousers. Please.”

      Then the doorbell rang.

      I bobbed down and looked through the banisters. I could only see the bottom bit of the open door.

      I heard Masimo’s voice. He said, “Ciao.”

      I had thought I might never hear “ciao” again. Oh, what was he here for???

      Mum said, “Masimo, what a lovely surprise. You look, er…lovely.”

      Oh nooooo, she was talking to him like he was a boy and she was a girl! Did she have her cardigan buttoned up? I couldn’t remember…

      Masimo said, “Er, I have come, scusi for my English, I have come for to give Georgia…”

      Mum interrupted. “I’m afraid she had to stay late for, erm, hockey.”

      Masimo said, “Ah yes, she is good for hockey, I think…but I come for to give her…a letter. Grazie mille.”

      And he was gone.

      I crouched down by my window and looked out. Masimo accelerated away down the street. He was wearing a leather coat. My heart skipped a beat to see him.

      In a way, I didn’t want to go down and get the letter.

      What if it said, “Ciao, bella… you are…how you say in English…dumped.”

      Mum came rushing up to my room.

      She handed me the letter and said, “What does it say?”

      I