Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 08 (14 page)

Read Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 08 Online

Authors: Love Is a Many Trousered Thing

Tags: #Europe, #Juvenile Nonfiction, #Humorous Stories, #England, #Teenage Girls, #Diaries, #Diary Fiction, #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Fiction, #Interpersonal Relations, #Love & Romance, #Dating (Social Customs), #Nicolson; Georgia (Fictitious Character), #Love, #Girls & Women, #People & Places, #General, #Love Stories

Then he said from inside his tent, “I zink that is enough, girls, I finish now.”

And he reached to get something from his haversack. You could see him all silhouetted in the tent. I shouted out, “Erm, an elephant.”

He said, “Ach no I haf now finished, I am not making the animals anymore.”

And he came out of his tent with his toothbrush.

Rosie said, “A llama on holiday.”

Herr Kamyer started going over to the “bathroom facilities.”


Nein, nein,
I have finished now.”

As he went into the facilities I yelled, “A Koch!”

But he didn't hear me.

Jas did, though. Jas, representative for the Wildlife of Great Britain club, said, “You are being silly, Georgia. I'm off to the hide now to see if I can see any badgers. Anyone want to come with me?”

Is she insane?

two minutes later

Actually, amazingly some people did go with her.

Is it time for bed yet?

Rosie, Jools and I went into our tent and got into our sleeping bags. The tent is a bit droopy and saggy. I couldn't actually see Rosie in her sleeping bag because of the droopy bit in the middle. And she is next to me. Ah well.

I will never be able to sleep for all the hooting
and scurrying going on. And that's just Jas….

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

midnight

The tent collapsed. I woke up struggling with what felt like a big duvet and couldn't see a thing. I could hear muffled voices and Rosie saying, “I've gone blind, I've gone blind!!!”

Eventually we managed to get free of the tent and stood shivering in our pajamas. All the other tents were in darkness and I could hear snoring from Miss Wilson's tent. I wonder what she sleeps in? Can you get corduroy pajamas? Well if anyone can, she can.

I said, “I'm not going through all that putting-the-tent-up-again fiasco. We will have to crawl in with our best mateys.”

ten minutes later

Jas is sooooooo unreasonable. We crawled into her tent and I tried to squeeze into her sleeping bag with her, but she wouldn't let me. Then Rosie trod on the special toothbrush mug and all hell broke loose.

12:30 a.m.

In the end, Mrs. Grumpy Knickers and her gang put our tent back up again just to get rid of us. It wasn't as droopy this time. Jas said, “You had the main tent pole in the wrong place.”

So? What is that supposed to mean?

1:00 a.m.

I am dying to go to the loo. I made Rosie come with me. Pooooooooo. How horrible is it sitting on a sort of box full of stinky stuff in a tent? Vair vair horrible. It makes Gordy's kitty litter box seem like luxury.

saturday july 30th

morning

What a racket: birds chirping, cows mooing, sheep bleating. People jogging. Oh yes. That is a sight for sore eyes first thing in the morning, Miss Wilson and Herr Kamyer in their running shorts. Good Lord.

I looked in my mirror. Yep, tent head.

I don't care, though, as this is deffo a Sex God–free zone.

afternoon

An action-packed day full of getting up, eating more sausages, having to play a game of rounders.
Actually I must say I did quite enjoy that—I socked the ball into a marshy bit and Jas had to go and get it.

She said to me, “You did that on purpose.”

And I said, “Don't be so silly, Jas.”

And then next time I was in, I smacked the ball into exactly the same place.
Zut alors!!!

Herr Kamyer showed us how to make a hammock and Miss Wilson told us how to identify poisonous fruits of the forest, which she couldn't find, and ended up having to show us pictures of in a book.

I said to Ellen and the gang, “The whole forest can be poisonous for all I care. I will never be coming into the wilderness again anyway.”

Rosie and I managed to escape the forced march to the newt pond by slipping off and finding a tree that we could climb and hide in. We hoisted ourselves up and we could look down at the “merry campers” scampering around looking at stuff and drawing it. How anyone can be interested in drawing amoebas—I will never know. Why would you bother coming miles and miles into Nowheresville when you could get much the same effect at home drawing some snot?

3:00 p.m.

It was nice and dreamy up in the tree, actually; the sun was lovely and warm and we could stretch out on a branch in our shorts. I could do tanning work, so at least I wasn't completely wasting my time. Rosie was plaiting her hair into tiny little plaits.

I said to her, “It makes you look like a halfwit.”

And she said, “Really? It looks that nice?”

Then she started missing Sven.

“Are my lips shrinking?”

I looked at them.

“No.”

“They feel like they are. I've been snogging Sven every day for months.”

I said, “Don't you do anything else?”

Rosie looked at me.

“Of course we do.”

“What?”

“Pardon?”

“What do you do?”

“We make things—furry shorts, Viking drinking boots and so on. It's not an easy life being the bride-to-be of a Viking, you know,” and she fished out her beard and put it on.

Just then we heard some voices and had to
shut up so that no one would see us. We could see down through the leaves. It was Miss Wilson and Herr Kamyer. Both in shorts. Good grief.

Herr Kamyer said, “It is
ver varm nicht var
?”

Miss Wilson was dithering about with a towel, and said, “Yes indeed, I think I'll have a refreshing shower.” And she bounded off to the “bathroom facilities.”

Herr Kamyer busied himself with his magnifying glass. I think he was trying to start a fire with it. What is the point of that?

Rosie whispered, “I do hope he sets fire to his shorts.”

five minutes later

Some of the merry campers have come back from the newt pond and are having another game of rounders. Nauseating P. Green, who has been keeping a low profile this weekend, thank the Lord, is a fielder out by the bathroom facility.

I said to Rosie quietly, “I don't want to be mean or anything, but Nauseating P. Green is unusually unusual-looking.”

Rosie stopped plaiting for a minute to look. “Please let her fall over. There's nothing funnier
than seeing her trying to get up again.”

At which point Melanie Griffiths socked the rounders ball really hard over to where N. P. Green was on fielding duties. Melanie ran for first base, and even Herr Kamyer stopped setting fire to things to look up. As I may have mentioned before, Melanie's nunga-nungas have a life of their own when she's running.

I said to Rosie, “Any minute now she will come careening past us and into the woods.”

Everyone was shouting at N. P. Green. “Catch the ball, four eyes, catch it!”

I said, “She can't even see the ball. The ball would have to be the size of her arse to see it through those glasses.”

At which point the funniest thing known to humanity happened.

N. P. Green was running backward, trying to catch where she thought the ball might be, and she crashed into the bathroom facility. Half of the bathroom facility (also known as a piece of old tent) collapsed around her, to reveal Miss Wilson blinking out from underneath the shower.

Rosie and I nearly fell out of the tree.

three minutes later

My ribs hurt from laughing. Seeing Miss Wilson in the nuddy-pants, apart from a spotted shower cap, is possibly the sight of the century. She just stood there blinking in the sun with her soap on a rope.

Rosie said, “Cor!”

ten minutes later

Miss Wilson managed to crawl under the rest of the bathroom facility and has just come out with her clothes on.

As she came out, Herr Kamyer walked quickly into the woods.

five minutes later

I said to Rosie, “Imagine if it had been Slim.”

Rosie said, “No.”

ten minutes later

Miss Wilson is fiddling about near the cooking area, and Herr Kamyer has just come out of the woods whistling. Miss Wilson is pointing across to the bathroom facility. Herr Kamyer is taking off his glasses, pointing at the bathroom facility and shrugging his shoulders. It's like watching mime.

Then I got it. “Herr Kamyer is pretending that he did not see Miss Wilson in the rudey-dudeys!”

one minute later

Back to the important things of life. I said to Rosie, “I wonder if I did the right thing about the Sex God. I wonder if I do like Masimo more than him.”

She said, “You've got to get your priorities right in life.”

Blimey, she was getting a bit deep for someone who was sporting a head full of tiny plaits and a full beard.

I said, “How do you mean?”

“Well, to put it another way. Who is the best snogger?”

Hmmmmmmmmmm.

two minutes later

I gave Masimo 9 out of 10 for snogging, and Robbie 8.

Rosie said, “Well, there you are, then.”

Yes, when you put it like that.

Then she said, “What is the best snog you have ever had? Don't think about it, just say what comes into your head.”

Blimey. I've just said something that has amazed even me.

“I think it was when Dave the Laugh nibbled my lips.”

Rosie looked at me and scratched her beard.

“How did Dave the Laugh get in here?”

Good point, well made.

in our tent
9:00 p.m.

Well, nearly time to get back to civilization. I can still hear the rest of the campers around the fire. Rosie, Jools and me are all in our sleeping bags. I have got some choccy and we are trying to suck it and see who can make it last the longest. That is how exciting life is. As we were lying there sucking we heard a sort of scrabbling at the side of the tent and then a hand came looming into view at the bottom of the canvas. We were being plundered, probably by farmers.

I said, “Oy, why don't you bog off back to where you came from? I have a gun.”

And a voice said, “Yes, but what color pants have you got on?”

It couldn't be?

It was though.

Dave the Laugh, Tom, Sven, Rollo and Dec and another mate called Edward I didn't know had all come down in Tom's car to visit us. They were camped just down the road by the river.

Yes, yes, yes!!!

We were talking quietly to them through the tent wall.

Dave said from the other side of the tent, “If you pretend to go to the loo, you can all come back in and say good night to the teachers like you are going to sleep for the night, and then burrow out the back of the tent and come with us. For a laugh. You know you want to!”

He is such a cheeky cat. How exciting, though!

Tom's voice said, “Get Jas to come out as well.”

Dec said, “Yeah, and get two other ones.”

I said, “Two other what?”

Dec said, “Girls.”

Boys are really unbelievable.

I'm sure Mabs and Ellen are not going to come out and just be with some blokes who call them “two other ones.” Even Ellen has got a bit of pridenosity. Ish.

The lads told us how to get to their campsite
and said they would wait for us there. We got into our clothes and then put our dressing gowns over the top of them. Jools, Rosie and I trooped over to the now re-erected loos, passing by the fire where the rest of them were singing “Ging gang gooley gooley gooley.”

Fortunately Rosie had thought to bring emergency makeup supplies and when we got in the “loos” (poo-ey) I had a quick look in the mirror. My tent hair had calmed down a bit during the day, and I did a mascara, lippy, lip gloss thing. Rosie was leaping about undoing her plaits and practicing puckering up. Jools said, “So what is the plan?”

I said, “Here's the plan, we go back to the tent yawning. And pretend we are shattered from having so much camping fun that we are having an early night. Then we burrow under the bottom of the tent and sneak off down to the boys' camp for fun and frolics and snacks.”

Rosie said, “And snogging.”

Jools said, “How shall we get the rest of them away from the ging gang goolie fiasco?”

I said, “We must use sophisticosity and
je ne sais quoi
.”

When we got back to the campfire, the “party”
was still on. Herr Kamyer was showing the campers how to do some ludicrous knots. What is the point of that? When was the last time anyone used a knot? I think it might have been Admiral Nelson. As we passed by yawning like the Yawners of Yawnington, I said in a casualosity-at-all-times way, “Oh Jas, Ellen and Mabs, I forgot I…er…have something to show you in our tent.”

Jas looked at me and didn't even bother to reply.

Ellen said, “Oh right, shall we, erm…is it…can I…are we all…”

And so on.

I gave Jas my most meaningful look, but she didn't know what I meant.

I said, “We found it this afternoon. I think it might be quite good for your newt collection, Jas.”

She said, “Is it a crusted one, or a toasted one?”

And she didn't say it in a nice way.

I was about to do stormies off, but then I thought I might have to listen to her ramble and moan on for the rest of my life if she found out that Tom had been here and I hadn't told her.

So I said, “Oh I think you will find it quite
HUNKY, if you know what I mean, Jas.”

That got her attention alright. She leapt to her feet like a surprised loon.

I said, looking at her with my eyes really wide, “Why don't you all pop round to our tent for a good night, er, look at it?”

We all trooped off to our tent. Miss Wilson said, “Don't be up all night chattering, girls, it's been quite a day and you're all very excited, I expect. I know I am.”

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