The Complete Fab Confessions of Georgia Nicolson: Books 1-10. Louise Rennison

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      Jas thought. “He’s got a very big mouth.”

      I said, “Yes, I know,” and then she said, “But then so have you.”

      Midnight

      Oh-oh. What to do. Why is life so complicated? Do I like Mark? Why did I say yes? Why can’t Robbie realise that Lindsay is a drippy git? Ohhhhhhh. Quel dommage!!! Merde. Poo.

      Monday December 7th

      5:00 p.m.

      Mark sent a note, which is quite sweet, except that it is very badly written:

      Dear Georgia,

      Away training till Saturday. Meet you at 8 at clock tower on Saturday.

      Mark.

      That’s it, then. I have no choice. I have to go with him.

      9:00 p.m.

      Mum comes into my room and says will I come down for a “talk”? I pray it’s nothing to do with personal hygiene or her and Dad’s relationship problems. Dad seems a bit nervous and he’s growing a moustache, how ridiculous, it looks like some small animal is just having a bit of a sleep on his top lip. He says, “Look, Georgie, you’re a young woman now (what was I before? a young horse?) and I don’t think there should be any secrets in our house (on the contrary, Vati, you will never know about the hand on the breast scenario even if hell freezes over), which is why I need to tell you that as work is so hard to find here in England I am flying off to Auckland straight after Christmas. I’ll be staying there for a month or two to get a feel for the place and to try a new job opening there. Then, when I get settled, your mum and you and Libbs can come out and see what you think.”

      I said, “I know what I think of New Zealand, I have seen Neighbours.”

      Mum said, “Well, that’s set in Australia.”

      What is this, a family crisis or a geography test? I went on patiently, “My point is, Mutti and Vati, that it is very far away, I’m not from there, all my friends are here. Or to put it another way: I would rather let Noel Edmonds adopt me than set foot on New Zealand soil.”

      We argued for ages – even Libby came down and joined in. She had dressed Angus up in her pyjamas and he had a bonnet on and a dummy in. I don’t know how she gets away with it; if I went anywhere near him with a bonnet he would have my hand off.

      Midnight

      So Vati is off to New Zealand. But that still doesn’t solve what I am going to be wearing for The Stiff Dylans gig.

      Friday December 11th

      2:50 p.m.

      Christmas fever has set in at school. We all wore silver antlers in physics this afternoon. Herr Kamyer tried to join in with the joke by saying, “Oh ja, jingle bells, jingle bells.” It’s pathetic really. Also, why are his trousers so short? You can see acres of pale, hairy ankle between his trousers and his plaid socks. (Yes, I did say plaid socks, now that is not just sad, it’s double sad.)

      8:00 p.m.

      Mutti and Vati strangely quiet and nice to each other. I saw Dad put his arms round Mum in the kitchen. Also Libby was singing, “Dingle balls, dingle balls, dingle on the way,” and Dad got all sort of wet round the eyes. Honestly, I thought he was going to cry, which would have been horrific. He picked her up and hugged her really hard. Libby was furious, she called him “Bad, big uggy, bad,” and stuck her finger in his eye which made him cry properly.

      Saturday December 12th

      The Stiff Dylans!

      7:00 a.m.

      Damn, I didn’t mean to wake up so early. Still, it gives me lots of time to get ready for tonight. I thought first of all I would do my yoga, which I haven’t been able to fit into my busy schedule.

      7:20 a.m.

      Now I know why I don’t bother with yoga – it’s too hard, that’s why. When I did “dog pose” I thought I’d never be able to get up again. I’ll just have a lie down and relax with an uplifting book for a few minutes.

      7:40 a.m.

      I’m not reading the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying ever again. I’m not going to become a Buddhist if I might come back reincarnated as a stick insect.

      7:50 a.m.

      Cup of milky coffee and toast, yum yum yum. Mum has got a new Cosmo.

      8:10 a.m.

      Back in bed for a few minutes’ read. Hmmm, “What men say and what they mean”.

      9:30 a.m.

      If a boy says “See you later” it might mean, “Leave me alone, it was great while it lasted but I am not ready for anything more serious” or “See you later”.

      9:40 a.m.

      I am going to become a writer for Cosmo – you don’t have to make any sense at all. Or maybe I’ll be a bloke – they don’t have to make any sense either.

      10:00 a.m.

      I am going to wear my short black Lycra dress. Jas has already phoned five times and changed her mind about what to wear each time.

      1:00 p.m.

      Rosie has asked the foreign exchange guest student who is staying next door to come to The Stiff Dylans. I said, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” and she said, “He’s called Sven,” and I said, “Well, that’s what I mean.”

      Rosie says he’s a “laugh”, whatever that means. She said, “He doesn’t speak any English but he is very tall.”

      When I asked where he was from she said, “I don’t know. Denmark, I think. He’s blond.”

      Apparently she asked him to go to The Stiff Dylans by pointing at him, pointing at herself and doing a bit of a dance. She’s bonkers. We arranged to go to Boots because we needed to have perfume for tonight and we can use the samples whilst we pretend we might buy them.

      4:30 p.m.

      Back home, covered in Palomo – I hope it wears off a bit as it’s making my eyes water. Also, I’ve got some new lip gloss which is supposed to plump up your lips. I’m not sure that this is such a good idea in my case, especially going with Mark. I wonder if the same rule applies to lips as does to breasts? I mean, if you use them more, I wonder if they get bigger?

      5:00 p.m.

      If using your lips does make your lips bigger, what on earth has Mark been up to? Am I going to let him kiss me? What does the hand on the breast mean? Do I want him to be my boyfriend? I don’t think he’s very bright but he might turn out to be a brilliant footballer like Beckham and then I could marry him and be kept in luxury.

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