‘…startled by his furry shorts!’. Louise Rennison

by the way, what do you mean she has got nice arms? She’s a stick insect, therefore she’s got sticky thin stupid arms. And unusually enough for a stick insect, it doesn’t stop there – she’s got a stupid forehead and stupid feet and—”

      “I’ve not seen her feet unclothed. Have you? When did you see her feet?”

      “Jas, I don’t know that I have seen her feet, but I know that they are sad. Anyway, stop going on and on about her feet. I’m not interested in her bloody feet.”

      “Well, I didn’t start the feet business. I was only being polite.”

      I slammed down the phone. I may be having a nervy spaz.

      I’d better eat something sweet.

      In the kitchen

      Nothing to eat, of course.

      I must and shall have sugar.

      Five minutes later

      Never have sugar on bread. It is disgusting.

      7:30 p.m.

      I had better plan what I’m going to wear the day he comes round to see me. It may be the deciding factor between happinosity and sadnosity.

      I must make sure he doesn’t see me in my school uniform. It will only remind him that I go to school.

      I think I’ll practise smiling in the mirror.

      7:40 p.m.

      Oh, what larks, I’m developing a lurker on my chin. Perfect. It should just be nicely ripening into a massive red pus-filled second chin by Friday.

      Five minutes later

      Typico, I have run out of spot cream. I could squirt some perfume on it; that sometimes works. What does it say in CosmoGIRL! vis-à-vis lurker alerts?

      Five minutes later

      Apparently you are supposed to lure out the lurker by encouraging it to come to a head. You should steam the area. With a steaming thing.

      Ten minutes later

      I’ve had my face over a boiling saucepan for the last year and a half, and although my face is bright red and dripping with water, the lurker is still lurking there happily.

      In Cosmo’s beauty hints it says you can use a poultice to draw it out. What can I use as a poulticey-type thing? It says a muslin bag with herbs and stuff in it.

      In the bathroom

      I have just looked in the “medical chest” and it has got some mouldy old oranges, a leg from Libby’s Pantalitzer doll, and some dried cat poo in it. How disgusting.

      In Mutti and Vati’s bedroom

      I’ve found some corn plasters in a drawer. Maybe they would do as a poultice. I’ll stick one over the lurker.

      One minute later

      Well, that is attractive. Not.

      But who said that love was painless?

      One minute later

      And who said it involved corn plasters?

      8:10 p.m.

      God, the lurker is throbbing. I hope the corn plaster poulticey thing isn’t drawing anything else out. I don’t want to wake up with no chin.

      Wandering lonely as a clud round the house

      8:15 p.m.

      I may as well be an orphan, for all the notice my family takes of me. They went out gaily laughing and singing years ago, leaving me with a measly fiver for a whole day. Just out scaring people for hours and hours.

      I hate them.

      It’s a bit spooky in the house by myself. Even the kittykats are nowhere around. What if an escaped prisoner came in out of the night and broke into the house to get food and so on?

      He wouldn’t stay long, I can tell you that.

      Ten minutes later

      I never thought the day would come when I would be glad to hear the whine of Vati’s half-horsepower clown car, but it has.

      I scampered up to my bedroom.

      Loony alert

      One minute later

      Bang bang, crash. Why can no one in my family open a door normally? Crashing around when starving people with two chins are trying to sleep.

      Mum came upstairs into my room. I don’t know why she bothers having her own room.

      She sat on the bed and looked at me. What am I? A looking at person?

      She said, “Could you tell me why you’ve got a corn plaster on your chin?”

      I said, “Oh, leave me alone, will you?”

      “Georgia, what is the matter with you? Seriously, you seem all worried and upset – what is it?”

      And then, I don’t know what happened, but I told her. “I said to the Italian Stallion that I wanted him to be like my proper boyfriend, and he said, ‘Oh, this is a serious thing’, you know, in that really groovy accent-type thing, and then Dave the Laugh said, ‘What if you really liked someone and then you lost them’, and Jas said, ‘Wet Lindsay has got nice feet and he might like that’… maybe they do, the Italians, they are an ancient race and maybe they like feet… and then a lurking lurker situation occurred, so I got out the corn plaster… and he’s going to choose on Friday, that’s five days away… and the coup de whatsit is that the Original Sex God, whose name I will never mention this side of the grave, had his shorts on, in a river, probably showing off to his wombat friends… Oh, what is the point?”

      Actually, for a complete fool and someone who tosses her nunga-nungas around with gay abandon, Mum was quite nice. And she seemed to understand.

      Which I am surprised at, as I don’t know what I’m saying myself most of the time.

      And I’m in my head. Sadly.

      10:00 p.m.

      Mum gave me a kiss, and I even let her cuddle me. A bit. She said the corn plaster wouldn’t work, but she would get me some cream tomorrow that will dry the lurker up.

      She said I should keep myself busy with a list of things to do until Friday so that I don’t have time to go mad.

      Good idea. I will start on the list now.

      Two minutes later

      This is my list:

      Practise not being mad.

      10:35 p.m.

      Mum brought Bibbs into bed with me. She was asleep, still clutching her swimming goggles and snorkel. She was also clutching the statue of Our Lord Jesus, or Sandra, as he is now called in his Barbie frock and make-up. He is Libby’s new best “fwend”. I looked at Bibbs in the half-light in my bedroom. She is so sweet when she is asleep. Her little eyelashes are long and curly and her mouth all pouty and pink. I cuddled up to her, and she turned over in her sleep