‘ and that’s when it fell off in my hand.’ (Confessions of Georgia Nicolson, Book 5)

It was like being in an exciting movie, except I didn’t know whether it was a romance or a comedy.

He saw me and looked at me for what seemed like ages. I felt like doing some Irish dancing to fill in the time but I didn’t.

The hard thing to do is to be noticed but not to be noticed being noticed, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

Libby and Gordy have gone round to Grandad’s for the night. God help them one and all, the mad meet the very very mad.

Good grief she is friendly. She said, “Oh hi, everyone, great to see you again.”
Was it? Why?

Ellen has obviously taken my hints from our boy bible on how to make any fool fall in love with you seriously. She was flicking her hair around so much I thought she might snap her neck. And also she was combining it with darting glances. Dave said, “Alright, Ellen?”

It said you had to do “sticky eyes.” You have to sort of look him in the eyes and then drag your eyes away from his as if they’ve been stuck with warm toffee.

I am exhausted. What in the name of Sir Richard Attenborough’s baby-doll nightie was all that about

lone, all aloney, on my owney

Saturday March 5th 11:00 a.m. as the crow flies
Grey skies, grey cluds, grey knickers.
I can’t believe my knickers are grey, but it is typico of my life. My mutti put my white lacy knickers in the wash with Vati’s voluminous black shorts and now they are grey.
If there was a medal for craposity in the mutti department, she would win it hands down.
I am once again wandering lonely as a clud through this Vale of Tears.
I wish there was someone I could duff up but I have no one to blame. Except God, and although He is everywhere at once, He is also invisible. (Also, the last person who tried to duff God up was Satan, and he ended up standing on his head in poo with hot swords up his bum-oley.)