Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me? (10 page)

He does make me laugh.

five minutes later

We all lolloped along together. The lads were in top moods because of a
coup d’état
they had done at school. They had drawn a massive boy’s trouser snake on the playing field with weed killer.

They’d done it under cover of playing footie and then just waited for it to emerge.

Dave said, “Top-class group work.”

I very nearly told them about my “snogging lec
ture” from Slim, but I didn’t want to talk about the Luuurve God in front of Dave the Laugh.

I did tell him about Mad Miriam and how we had had to find our inner clown.

Dave said, “Has your inner clown got a Horn?”

At the bottom of the hill everyone else peeled off to go home. The casual plan is to go to the cinema tomorrow eves. Dave walked along with me. He pushed me in the arm and loosened his tie and smiled at me.

“Long time since we did this, isn’t it, kittykat? You’re too frightened of the call of my Magnetic Horn to be alone with me, aren’t you?”

I said, “Er, Dave, I am not frightened of your Magnetic Horn and that is
le
fact.”

He said, “You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not and just repeating something doesn’t make it an argument.”

“It does.”

“It does not…hang on a minute, we’re doing it again. Stop it….”

There was a silence, then he said, “No, you stop it.”

He is sooo annoying. Funny, though.

We didn’t talk about the Luuurve God or Emma, although I half expected her to come running up behind us with some warm milk for Dave or something. Is that what happens to girls around boys—they just turn into zombie girls?

Somebody should try telling my mum that she is supposed to be a man-pleaser. She asked Dad to polish her shoes last night. And he did! What is all that about?

When we reached my turnoff, Dave said, “So what are you up to tomorrow night?”

I said, “Well, I…erm, the rest of them want to go to the cinema, but you know…it’ll be like Snog Central and…I…”

He looked at me with his crinkly eyes.

“And your girlfriend is not around.”

I said, “Oy…but, well, yes, I guess.”

There was a moment’s pause and then Dave said, “Well, I’ll be on my jacksie as well, so maybe see you there. S’laters.”

Blimey.

When I got to my house, Masimo was sitting outside on his scooter chatting to Mum and Libby! Libby had got his spare helmet on, so was essen
tially a helmet on a pair of legs. I could hear her laughing inside the helmet.

five minutes later

Why doesn’t Mum go in with Libby? I keep raising my eyebrows and looking at her in a meaningful way, but she doesn’t know what I mean.

Masimo has put his arms around me, and I am half sitting on his knee. I feel weird in front of my mum.

Oh joy unbounded, Oscar is lurking about. Does he really think that wearing a baseball cap backward is going to get him a girlfriend? Also, when he jumped over his gate, he caught his shoe in his falling-down jeans fiasco and head-dived into his dad’s perennials (quite literally oo-er).

Sad really.

Also, I can’t help noticing, I am in my school uniform. This is not the air of sophisticosity I am aiming for.

Also, even though nothing was going on with Dave the Laugh, except just matewise, I couldn’t help thinking what would have happened if the Luuurve God had seen us skipping along together. Talking about Dave’s Magnetic Horn.

Dave seemed more like Dave the Laugh again. He hadn’t shown any sign of numptiness, which is good.

Not that I care really, but well, you know.

Don’t you? I hope you do because I certainly don’t.

As my brain burbled merrily on by itself, Masimo said, “
Cara,
I must go. We are driving, now, for London. I am missing you.
Bellissima
Georgia.” And he kissed me on the lips. In front of my mother. Dear God.

Mum said, “How beautiful. See you when you get back and good luck with everything.”

Then Masimo went and gave her two kisses on either cheek. He said,
“Bella mama.”

My mother practically collapsed on the spot. Then she laughed like a fool and said, “Ooohhh.”

The romantic mood was spoiled a bit by the complete fandango of getting the spare helmet off Libby. First of all she said, “No, I laaaaaike it. It’s mine.”

And ran off to hide.

Of course, being a helmet on legs doesn’t make it easy to hide. Nor does the fact that she thinks just standing very still behind a small tree
makes her invisible. When I went and got her, she kicked my leg and said, “Shhhh, Gingey, I am hiding, you bad boy.”

I lured her out of it by the Jammy Dodger bribe. She couldn’t eat them with the helmet on, but I also had to promise to read her
Heidi
. AGAIN!!!

Mum tried to help by suggesting I read something called
The Magic Faraway Tree
by Enid Blyton.

At least it’s trees instead of cheese.

twenty minutes later

Why do they let impressionable children read this sort of thing? It has even freaked Libby out because it is so insane. There is some bloke called Moonface in it. And he has got a moonface. Literally. Isn’t that a bit moon-ist?

in my bedroom

It’s odd having someone really like you. Am I that brilliant? Maybe all Pizza-a-gogo boys are like Masimo.

Hang on a minute, Rom is a Pizza-a-gogo type. It’s all fitting together now. Rom only snogged Jul once before he shinned up her drainpipe (oo-er)
and then he married her and committed suicide.

Perhaps all Pizza-a-gogo boys are the same.

two minutes later

If I hear a scrabbling noise outside my bedroom window one night, it might not be Angus dragging some half-eaten cockroach for me to look at. It might be Masimo wanting a midnight wedding.

Crikey. I’ve already got a locket.

8:30 p.m.

Masimo phoned just before he set off.

He said, “Miss Georgia, will you wait for me?”

I was thinking, blimey, mate, it’s only a day and a half. But I said yes.

I hadn’t really thought about it before, but I suppose if he did go on tour, we might not see each other all the time.

And there would be loads of girls around him.

But he is not a red-bottomed Hornmeister, is he?

The question is…am I?

two minutes later

No, I am most certainly not. I am the girlfriend of a
Luuurve God and that is the end of the story.

Oh yes, I have dabbled in the cakeshop of life, but those days are well and truly over now.

I have settled for an Italian fancy. And I am not a jam tart.

three minutes later

What did Dave the Laugh mean when he said he would be on his jacksie?

four minutes later

I phoned Jas.

“Jas?”

“Hmmm.”

“Are you going to deffo go to the cinema?”

“Yes, I think so. The only thing is, if Tom has got some special stones he was talking about, then we would put them in the aquarium.”

“Right, so it’s either the cinema or putting stones in a tank. I see. Erm, Jas, is, erm, are Dave the Laugh and Emma going?”

“Why?”

“It’s just a question, Jas.”

“I know, but it’s nothing to do with you pretending I fancy Dave the Laugh, is it?”

“You have a vair suspicious nature, it’s sad.”

“Well, why are you asking me? Anyway, Emma has gone on a sketching weekend with her art teacher, so she won’t be there.”

in my room

The vair weird thing was that I was sort of looking forward to going to the cinema now.

What was all that about?

half an hour later

Just for the crack of being with your mates.

That’s all.

You know, relaxing and watching a film with your mates.

Simple, uncomplicated stuff.

saturday october 1st

9:00 a.m.

Something’s vair vair wrong. It’s so quiet.

What is so weird?

9:10 a.m.

I know what it is. No one has come barging into my room making me do stuff.

Also, I am in my bed, by myself.

No cats chewing my hair.

No Libby dancing around in suspiciously bulging pongie pants.

one minute later

No, I tell a lie, I am not alone. I have got Mr. Potato Head with me. I didn’t realize at first because he has got his sock “nightdress” on….

Urgh, Mr. Potato Head is going a bit green.

I can’t believe I nearly snogged him when I had snogging withdrawal.

I don’t fancy him half so much now he is losing his looks!!!!

Hahahahahahaha.

Shut up.

Why is it so quiet, though?

Oh, I thought it was too good to be true. I can hear the distinct approach of some portly bloke lumbering up the stairs to my b.o.l. (boudoir of luuurve). It will be Vati larging in with some ludicrous scheme to go and look around some pie factory somewhere. For hints on how to get even larger in the botty department.

The steps stopped outside my door and there was a knock.

What?

Then Vati said from outside the door, “Georgia, I have brought you a cup of tea. Your mum said you would like one. May I bring it in for you?”

What was this? It must be some plan of his to get me to do something horrific, like come and watch him play “football” with his mates. Twenty-two out-of-condition men lumbering around a pitch for twenty minutes before most of them are sent off for fighting.

(Or, as happened when I last went, Uncle Eddie
got sent off for having a fag and a beer with the goalkeeper. During the game.)

two minutes later

I said, “You can come in with the tea as long as you just leave it and don’t say anything.”

three minutes later

Am I suddenly living in
Wind in the Willows
and Dad is kindly old Badger? He didn’t say anything to me, just put the tea down and smiled at me and went away.

It must be some sort of trick to lull me into a false sense of security.

He was even almost normally dressed. In a proper jumper and trousers.

Not leatherette or anything.

Crikey.

fifteen minutes later

This is the life, just lying here letting my pores breathe.

I wonder if I should start to cleanse and tone?

Also I must remember to replenish my pouch. I’ve gone through all my lip gloss in the last few
days because of all the unexpected popping up that has been going on.
Vis-à-vis
the Luuurve God.

He’ll be in Lunnern now, hanging around with the Chelsea set.

Do I want it to go well or not?

What do management people do, anyway?

five minutes later

At least I have got my locket.

My precious locket of my beloved Luuurve God.

Where is my locket by the way?

fourteen minutes later

I forgot I had put it in my pouch, in case I was body-searched on the way out of Stalag 14 for smiling or something.

I am going to phone Jas and see if she is coming tonight. And make her come, anyway.

downstairs

There is quiet music playing from the bathroom. As I picked up the phone, Dad came by with another cup of tea. He’ll probably throw it over me and start yelling about the phone bill.

But he just smiled and said, “Good morning, sleep well?” and knocked on the bathroom door.

Mum said, “Come.”

And Dad shuffled in with the tea.

Something really weird was going on. Mum is hardly ever out of the bath and Dad hasn’t gone ballistic in hours.

Has he turned into a Stepford Dad?

one minute later

Jas answered the phone.

Before I could say anything she started going, “Guess what, guess what’s the bestiest thing ever!!”

Oh, what did that mean? The best thing on Planet Jas could be anything.

I said, “Something to do with a new strain of vole poo? You’ve got a stuffed barn owl? No, no, don’t tell me. Your pants have a new all-weather stretch gusset?”

She was going, “Nope, nope, you will never guess, it’s so sooo bestie!”

I said, “Jas, if it’s anything to do with the newts getting a helter-skelter I don’t think I can bear the excitement.”

She was too excited to notice my amusing-nosity.

She just burbled on. “The
Rom and Jul
thing, it’s all, well…it’s all fabby and marv. In fact, it’s a miracle.”

“I think you will find it’s a tragedy, unless Miss Wilson has rewritten the ending so that Jul wakes up in time and finds her inner clown, with hilarious consequences.”

Jas was talking over the top of me.

“Tom just told me, she’s got to take a uni bursary exam. She can’t be in it!!”

“Who?”

“Wet Lindsay!!!!”

Oh joy unbounded.

ten minutes later

Mind you, it would have been vair amusing to see Jas snogging Wet Lindsay. In an horrific, road crash sort of way.

Also Radio Jas tells me that there has been a change of plan cinema-experiencewise. I can’t decide if it is good or bad.

Or a combo of good and bad. Goba. Or maybe even bago. Depending how you look at it. Shut up, brain.

Rosie’s parents have gone away for the night and she is planning on having the cinema experience at her place.

Hmmmmm.

I phoned her and said, “When you say ‘cinema experience,’ what exactly do you mean by that?”

She said, “You know what I mean, my little pally. All of us in the dark, snogging and eating popcorn.”

I said, “Yes, but the added mystery ingredient in the usual ‘cinema experience’ is that there is a film on.”

Rosie assures me that there will be a film on, a “special” film. But she won’t tell me what it is as she wants it to be a “lovely surprise.”

Now I am frightened.

And I can’t quite be sure that Dave the Laugh will be there. And I can’t ask anyone to check. If I ask Radio Jas and say, “Please will you not tell anyone I am asking, just use subtlenosity,” Dave would be on the blower within five minutes saying, “Why do you want me to come to the cinema experience? Can’t you resist my Magnetic Horn?”

What shall I do if he isn’t there? I will be the goosegog fool of all time. But I can’t just leave if he’s not there because otherwise that looks like
I really meant to see him.

And then the cat would be out of the bag.

Racing down the hill with the bag over its head.

Why is it in the bag, anyway?

Speaking of cats, when I went down to the kitchen for a soothing plate of cheesy wotsits to calm my nerves, Angus was playing with his tartan toy mousy.

He was biffing toy mousy with one paw and then biffing him back with the other. Then picking him up by his neck and shaking him.

Then he biffed toy mousy really hard and it went under the fridge.

Angus started trying to reach under with his paw. But he couldn’t reach. Then he started his croaky
miaow
ing and the looking at me pathetically fiasco.

three minutes later

I was chomping away on the cheesies. I must keep my strength up for my maybe goosegogging experience tonight.

one minute later

Angus was still trying to reach toy mousy and still looking pathetically at me.

two minutes later

Oh, I can’t stand this.

I lay down on the floor and put my arm under the fridge to try to reach toy mousy. Angus was pressing my bottom with his paw as I was doing it. Sort of encouraging me, I suppose.

two minutes later

It’s right at the back. I can sort of touch it with my fingers, but I can’t reach it to pull it out.

two minutes later

I got the washing-up brush and nearly got it.

Oh, bloody hell, it’s gone a bit farther back.

three minutes later

Just about got it.

Just a centimeter or two more.

one minute later

Got it!!!

Stood up. Blimey, I’m a bit dizzy.

I said to Angus, “There you are, now don’t…”

He’s just biffed it straight back under the fridge.

And started his croaky
miaow
ing and looking thing.

6:30 p.m.

When I went back in the kitchen for more cheesy wotsits, Mum was down on the floor scrabbling under the fridge for toy mousy.

I didn’t say anything.

6:45 p.m.

She’s got it out.

6:46 p.m.

He’s biffed it back under the fridge again.

7:00 p.m.

Libby is being taken over to Grandvati’s because Mum and Dad are going out on a “date.” Which is sad. They even said “date.” Erlack.

As I was setting off to Rosie’s “cinema experience,” Vati was faffing around adjusting his fur steering wheel. I tried to just sneak off past him but he spotted me and said, “Have a nice time, but you won’t be having as nice a time as us because your mother and I are off to paint the town red.”

I said, “Don’t you mean beige?”

And just for a moment I caught sight of my dear old dad, the dad I know and…well, the dad
I knew. He went all red and ballistic looking and started shouting, “You’re not bloody funny, and what time will you be in? Because I am telling you this for free….”

Then he sort of stopped himself as Mum came out all tarted up and forced this very scary smile on his face. I watched while he opened the mirthmobile door for her and put Libby in the back.

Then I watched as Libby did a bit of kicking of the car seats and shouting. “Me want Bum-ty, me want Bum-ty!!! Go get her, Big Uggy!!!!”

And Dad went back into the house and came out with Bum-ty in her cage. Bum-ty seems to have fewer and fewer feathers. And she has gone off her Trill.

I’m not surprised with the twenty-four-hour cat staring that goes on.

Tonight Angus even managed to get on top of Bum-ty’s cage. Even though Dad has fixed it to the light fitting and it’s suspended from the ceiling.

Angus must have used the sofa as a launch pad, leapt up the curtains and hurled himself onto the cage from there. In a Devil take the hindmost kat-i-kaze diving episode. It’s only because
his paws are so huge that he couldn’t get them through the bars.

7:15 p.m.

Anyway, at last the Swiss Family Mad streaked off at one mile an hour.

Some people live life in the fast lane. My dad lives life in the bus lane.

As I strolled along, I nearly caught up with them. I had to take really tiny steps to avoid walking alongside.

at rosie’s

Sven answered the door in an usherette’s uniform. If you can imagine that. It’s not easy, I know. He had a sort of miniskirt on with platform boots. And a lot of eye shadow and lippy.

Not expertly applied I have to say.

Sofas and chairs were arranged in front of their big-screen TV and Rosie was in charge of popcorn. I say in charge. What I mean is she was stoking up the popcorn maker, a duck that made popcorn that came shooting out of its beak.

The ace gang were all there by the time I arrived. Hons, Jools, Ellen, Mabs and Sophie, all
snuggling up to their “boyfriends” already.

It was so crowded, I even wondered if the Little Titches might pop up from behind something. I’m not kidding. I wouldn’t be surprised. If they have even a whiff (half a whiff) that Dave the Laugh might be in the area, they would be scampering around trying to get near to him.

Is he in the area, though?

fourteen minutes later

No sign of Dave the Laugh.

Goosegog land was approaching.

Oh God, this was going to be horrific.

Even now it was horrific and the film hadn’t even started.

The one hilarious moment was when Ellen did the classic bobbing around like a pigeon wondering which side to put her head for the snog.

Maybe I could pretend I had a sudden pressing piddly-diddly scenario and sneak out through the bathroom window.

Just then the doorbell rang. Sven the usherette went to answer it and carried in Dave the Laugh.

Dave said, “I like a big girl.”

I didn’t say anything. I felt a bit shy actually. And sort of nervy.

Dave got his popcorn and then came and sat down next to me.

I have to say, even though I am not interested in this sort of thing, that he looked, well, quite fit. For a matey-type mate.

The film was the sing-along version of
The Sound of Music.

No, I am not kidding.

Sven (the usherette) introduced it by saying, “This is a film about the
unter
garments. We are haffing the singing about pants and the lederhosen. Let’s groove!”

And then he switched the lights out.

We were plunged into complete darkness. Everyone was going, “Oo-er.” And “Phwoooaar,” etc., for a bit.

Then, in the darkness, Dave the Laugh said loudly, “Oy, Georgia, is that your hand on my knee, you cheeky, cheeky minx?”

What what???

It turned out to be Sven’s hand. Sven was crawling around trying to find the control for the screen.

We sang, we ate popcorn. The film even had the bouncing ball lyrics because it was the sing-along one.

It should have been crapnosity personified, but it was not.

And the best thing was that the goosegog factor was vair low because no one really had any time for snogging.

My ribs really, really did hurt from laughing so much. Sometimes we reversed the film so that we could get the song. We sang them all:

“The Hills Are Alive with the Sound of Pants.”

“Idlepants,” as I have said many, many times, is one of my all-time hits.

Rosie said, “I am deffo going to have songs from
The Sound of Music
at my Viking wedding. The Vikings love a bit of yodeling.”

I had hoped we had heard the last of Rosie and Sven’s Viking wedding fiasco.