The Sleepover Club at the Carnival. Sue Mongredien

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      The next day, we started work on our “fashion float”. Mrs Weaver told us that the float would be divided up into ten sections – one for each decade. Our class was going to be split up into five groups. One group would work on the Fifties, one would do the Sixties, one the Seventies, and so on. In the meantime, Mr Phillips’ class was going to work on the first five decades of the century.

      “On the float, we want two people – a boy and a girl – representing each decade,” Mrs Weaver said. “You can either just dress up in the typical fashion of that time, or you can dress up as a famous person from that decade. So, for example, if you were in the Sixties group, you could dress up in Sixties fashion – mini-skirts for example, or the hippy look. Or you could dress up as one of the Beatles, Neil Armstrong – you know, the first man on the moon, or… well, you get the idea.”

      “Do you think I’d look good in a miniskirt?” Simon Graham shouted out, batting his eyelashes and making everyone giggle.

      Mrs Weaver gave him one of her stern looks. “You’d look even better with your mouth closed, Simon,” she said witheringly.

      Then she split us up into groups of five or six people. Five people – perfect for the Sleepover Club! But then she said there had to be at least two boys and two girls in each group. Typical – boys always have to spoil everything.

      In the end, we weren’t TOO badly split up. Me and Frankie got to be in a group together, which was cool. We were with Simon, Neil and Maria Fonseca. I was pleased about that – at least we were guaranteed some laughs.

      Rosie, Fliss and Lyndz were in a group with the twins, Alex and Joe Dunmore, who are pretty all right, too. At least Mrs Weaver hadn’t put us with the M&Ms this time. She has a nasty habit of putting us in groups with them because she seems to think we’ll make friends if we spend time together. In her dreams! I’d sooner be in a group with a man-eating crocodile and a dozen piranha fish, thanks!

      Anyway, we were picked to do the Seventies’ part of the float. Mrs Weaver handed round sheets with suggestions for famous people and events, and piles of library books she’d put together.

      Our group started looking through some of the library books. “Look at those boots!” Frankie screeched, pointing at a picture excitedly. The soles were about six inches high and they were silver and glittery. “I want them!”

      “Wow – punks!” Simon and Neil were saying. “Look – this one’s got a safety pin through his cheek!”

      “Glam rockers,” Maria read aloud. “Look at their trousers – they’re so tight! And is that a wig he’s wearing? That can’t be his real hair!”

      We all started snorting with laughter as we flicked our way through the rest of the books. There were lots of pictures of men wearing big, open-necked shirts with huge collars and gold medallions. “I wonder if our dads ever dressed like this?” I said, sniggering. “I know my mum used to have some gold hot-pants!”

      “I wonder if Mrs Weaver ever dressed like THIS?” Simon whispered, holding up a picture of a punk girl with bright blue hair and three earrings in her nose.

      That just set us all off in fits of giggles. The thought of a punk Mrs Weaver was totally crazy!

      “I wouldn’t mind dressing up as a glam rocker,” Frankie said, once we’d all calmed down. “I just want to wear some of these funky boots! Unless one of you two fancy going on the float?”

      I shook my head firmly. “I’m not dressing up in stoopid clothes,” I said at once.

      “Count me out,” Maria said. “I’d break my neck if I had to wear those things on my feet!”

      Simon was quite keen to be Pele, the footballing star of the Seventies, but Maria and Frankie said they thought football was WAY too boring (as if!). In the end, Frankie persuaded him to be a punk by telling him they could dye his hair green with food colouring. “Wicked,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Mum’ll KILL me!”

      So that was that – one punk and one glam rocker. This was going to be sooo hilarious!

      It was a humungously busy week. We had ‘team meetings’ on Wednesday and Friday morning to discuss our designs and give each other progress reports. Each team had to make some sort of sign or banner which said what their decade was. As all five of us were pretty useless at sewing, we went for a joint team effort to make a collage on card, rather than try anything with a needle and thread.

      By the end of the week, it was starting to look pretty good. Maria had painted The ‘70s in big purple letters in the middle, and Frankie had added silver glitter around the edges. Then we’d all brought in pictures of famous people and even some old photos of our mums and dads in outrageous Seventies gear!

      Simon had brought in lots of pictures of footballers. Frankie had persuaded her mum to cut out pictures of pop stars from a collection of old magazines she had, and Neil had tracked down some pictures of old film stars. Me and Maria spent ages going through the library books, and made colour photocopies of all the weird Seventies fashions we could find. Our banner was starting to look truly faberoonie!

      Fliss, Rosie and Lyndz had been hard at work, too. They were doing the Sixties, and Fliss – who else? – was going to be their ‘model’ on the float. Lyndz had found a great outfit for her in her mum’s dressing-up box – a psychedelic swirly-patterned mini dress, knee boots and a wicked beehive wig.

      “Loads of black eyeliner, and I’ll be sorted,” Fliss beamed. “One Sixties chick coming up!”

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