‘Luuurve is a many trousered thing…’. Louise Rennison

      Five minutes later

      But I might also have an éclair called Robbie, in case I’m peckish and the Italian cakey isn’t filling enough.

      Five minutes later

      Some people, naming no names (but Jas) will probably say I’m greedy. But I’m not. I am just having a choice. I am not sad like Jas, who only stays with one boyfriend because she has no special talents. Other than an unerring eye for a crap owl, or being able to spot a vole at a hundred yards. Or having the largest knicker collection in the northern hemisphere. And being the biggest and most annoying twit on the planet.

      Two minutes later

      Yes, the Good Lord has been kind enough to give me a couple of special gifts.

      One minute later

      Oh, that was a bit freaky-deaky, I had Dave the Laugh’s voice in my head when I said “a couple of special gifts”. And his voice said, “Ah, yes… the nunga-nungas.” He is even rude when I make him up in my head. That is very rude indeed. It is rudey-dudey in absentia, as we say in Latin.

      Every time I think about Dave the Laugh it makes me laugh. I’ve just remembered him (accidentally) switching all the lights off during MacUseless and the entire Forest of Dunsinane falling off the stage. God, it was funny.

      One minute later

      And his vair amusing “pants” thing – as in the famous song “The Hills are Alive with the Sound of PANTS”.

      Two minutes later

      And when he put a FOR SALE sign on his school’s roof – tee hee hee.

      One minute later

      Oy, shut up, brain! This is a Dave-the-Laugh-free zone!

      Five minutes later

      If I do decide on the Luuurve God, it will serve Robbie right. He will just have to check into Heartbreak Hotel, like I had to when he dumped me. He should ask for the sobbing suite.

      12:30 a.m.

      I have never had to check into Heartbreak Hotel because of the Luuurve God. Except, I suppose, I thought I might have to make a booking when he said he would tell me in a week’s time if he was going to be my one and only one.

      12:40 a.m.

      But that was then, and now he has said, “I am for you if you want?” Which is vair vair good.

      12:45 a.m.

      Good night, Luuurve God.

      12:50 a.m.

      I hope he doesn’t think it’s odd that I had to catch a train from near the shopping centre.

      At midnight.

      When there isn’t a train station there.

      1:00 a.m.

      To be fair, I haven’t really given Robbie much of a chance. Maybe I should at least talk to him before I, you know, choose my cake.

      1:10 a.m.

      I don’t suppose they would both consider a time-share girlfriend…

      zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

       Snot disco dancing

      Monday July 18th

      8:00 a.m.

      This is the first day of the rest of my life. So why is my hair sticking up like a cockerel?

      8:10 a.m.

      Mum caught me ironing my hair. God, she made a big deal out of it. It’s probably the first time she has seen an iron. Bloody hell, ramble on, why don’t you?

      She was all red-faced. “By the time you are twenty-five your hair will be like nylon.”

      I said, “Mum, who cares what I look like at twenty-five? I will be in the twilight zone of life by then, like you.”

      If I hadn’t used my athletic responses I could have been quite badly injured by Mum’s hairbrush. She is very unstable.

      8:20 a.m.

      Scavenging around in the kitchen for something to eat. Luckily a piece of toast popped out of the toaster. Ah, good. I buttered it and ate it. Blimey, being a Luuurve Goddess can make you peckish.

      Vati came dadding in. He didn’t even say good morning, he said, “Is that my toast you are eating?”

      I said, “To be honest, Dad, I don’t think you need any more toast; you seem to have plenty stored away around the trouser area.”

      As usual in this house when anyone (me) tries to be light and amusing Dad goes ballisticisimus.

      Mum came in trying to force Libby into her dungies while she still had a cup of milky pops in her hand which she would not let go of.

      Dad was still moaning on about me. “Where does she get all this rudeness from, Connie? You are too easy-going on her.”

      Mum said, “I know. She’s been ironing her hair.”

      Dad forgot about the toast fiasco and started on beauty. Something which, quite frankly, he is not an expert on. “How bloody ridiculous is that? You’ll end up like Uncle Eddie.”

      I said, “Oh right, I’m going to turn into a mad bloke on a motorbike because I straighten my hair. I think women everywhere should be told.”

      8:30 a.m.

      I hate my parents. They are so unreasonably mad.

      8:35 a.m.

      And so self-obsessed. They don’t seem to understand that their lives are over, and I am covered in cake.

      8:36 a.m.

      I am nearly at Jas’s house. I must exude calmnosity and friendlinosity. I must put the egg incident behind me and be nice to Jas – so she will tell me all she knows.

      8:40 a.m.

      When I got to Jas’s gate it was to see her bottom waggling off in the distance. Of course Eggy had set off. She will still be having the huff with me. I must be at my most charming.

      I did my fast walking until I caught up with her, and gave her a lovely smile as I linked up with her. “Hello, Jas, my little chummly-wummly.”

      She shook me off. “Don’t hang on to my arm, Georgia, I’m not dragging you up the hill to school just because you are tired.”

      “I’m not tired, I am just so glad to see you, you lovely bigpantied loon.”

      I chucked her under the chin but she still wasn’t having it. So I stopped and stood in front of her and looked into her eyes. “Jazzy Spazzy, you know I love you.”

      She