Five minutes later Oh, the embarrassmentosity of having a dad. He is revving up his clown “car”. It sounds like a fat bloke revving up a sewing machine. Which it is really. He has painted a racing stripe down the side of his three-wheeled Reliant Robin. Even Grandad overtook the clown car the other day, and he wasn’t even on his bike. He was just walking quite briskly. That is how pathetico the Robinmobile is.
One minute later Anyway, how can I be expected to go look at budgies when I may once more be a dumpee on the rack of luuurve.
Four minutes later Mum came mumming in.
I said, “Before you start, I’m not coming to look at budgies and that is le fact.”
She said, “Hang on a minute, what are you doing here?”
I said, “Er, I live here.”
She said, “You were supposed to be staying at Jas’s though.”
“Well…she was a bit…tired.”
“You fell out then?”
“Maybe.”
“What did you do to upset her?”
Oh, that’s nice, isn’t it? Nice and supportive.
“It was Saint Jas’s fault actually, if you must know. She was the one who told me to do something when Masimo and Dave the Laugh nearly had fisticuffs at dawn. And then when I did do something she got the mega hump and a half with me and stropped off.”
Mum came and sat on the edge of the bed. Oh Lord, now she had got interested. Drat.
She said, “Dave and Masimo were fighting?”
“Sort of.” “Why?”
“I don’t know. Because I did a bit of ad-hoc twisting with Dave, and Masimo got the hump.”
“So what did you do to stop them?”
“Well. I stepped in the middle of them and told them not to be silly.”
Mum looked at me. “What did you actually say?” “Stop in the name of pants.”
Mum just looked at me again. She is like a seeing-eye dog.
I bumbled on. “But then Rosie started singing that crap song from The Sound of Music-‘The hills are alive with the sound of PANTS, with PANTS I have worn for a thousand years.’ And the Ace Gang joined in and…”
“And?”
“Then Masimo just looked at me and he walked off. And not in a good way. In a having the full Humpty Dumpty way.”
10:30 a.m. The budgie lovers’ “advice” is: “Don’t be such a childish arse in future.”
Thank you for that.
10:40 a.m. At least I have the house to myself for a mope-a-thon. The Swiss Family Mad have roared off down the drive at three miles an hour. They’ll be at the end of our street by tomorrow if they’re lucky and have a following wind.
10:45 a.m. I’m not phoning Jas because she was so grumpy with me last night for no reason.
Five minutes later I think I may hate her actually.
Two minutes later So in a nutshell. My so-called bestie hates me and thinks I am the Whore of Babylon and my boyfriend may hate me, even though he doesn’t know the reason why he should hate me.
Six minutes later It is sooooo boring moping.
11:10 a.m. Masimo still hasn’t phoned me. I can’t stand this silence a moment longer. I am going to call an emergency Ace Gang meeting.
11:30 a.m. Rang Jools, Ellen, Rosie, Mabs and Honor.
11:45 a.m. I have arranged to meet the Ace Gang, with the exception of you know who, at 2:00 p.m. in the park. I wanted to meet at mine, but the rest of them want to watch the footie match. They are obsessed with boys.
11:50 a.m. I am just going to tell them all the whole truth and see what they say. Just come clean about the whole situation. Make a fresh start with my bestie mates. Truth is, after all, the cornerstone of friendship.
11:52 a.m. Well, when I say the whole truth, I will obviously not be mentioning the thing that I am not mentioning this side of the grave. And which I have forgotten about, to tell you the truth.
1:30 p.m. I seem to be working my way through the famous “losing it” scale. I have gone from merely having a spaz attack to being now on the edge of a complete nervy b. What if Masimo is actually at the footie match and ignores me?
What can I do?
I ask myself the question, “What would Baby Jesus do in these circumstances?”
One minute later Of course! I must make myself irresistible to the Luuurve God by applying as much mascara as is humanly possible.
1:32 p.m. When I went into the bathroom, Angus was sitting on the loo seat. He just looked at me when I came in and then half shut his eyes, like a halfwit cat.
I said, “Oy, what are you doing in here?”
He yawned and then he put his paw on the loo handle. Like he was flushing it.
What fresh hell?
Surely he isn’t pooing in the loo?
He jumped down and skittered off out at about a million miles an hour. How weird.
I wonder if being run over has affected his brain.
Mind you, I read about the Moscow State Circus and they’ve got some cats who can pull a carriage and play chess at the same time.
Maybe I could get Angus a job in the Russian circus displaying his pulling-the-loo-handle skills.
The Russian volk might quite like that.
You never know.
1:40 p.m. Oh, bloody hell, he’s been in my make-up bag again.
Why would a cat eat lip gloss?
1:45 p.m. OK, I am ready to get entrancing and alluring. I am wearing jeans and a skinny jummie, and because I am off to watch a footie match, I’ve put my hair into a little ponytail. Très sportif. It gives me a casual, sporty air.
I may wear my shades to add to my mysterious “uuumph” quality.
1:46 p.m. Just a hint of “uuumph” but not ummphy in the “oy, you slaaaag” sort of way.
2:10 p.m. When I arrived at our usual meeting place underneath the big chestnut tree, Sven and Rosie were there. Practically eating each other. Do they ever stop snogging?
Rosie knew I was there because she waved her hand at me.
Eventually, I went: “Hellllooooooo” for a bit until they came up for air.
Rosie took out her chuddie and said, “Bonsoir, sensation-seeker.”
Sven leaped to his feet and picked me up (thank God I had my jeans on) and started carrying me around singing, “Oh ja, oh ja! The hills are alive wiv zer pants, hahaha, oh ja pants!!!”
I said to Rosie, who was reapplying her lippy, “Rosie, make him put me down…” Rosie said, “Down, boy.”
He put me down and licked Rosie’s face before