Читать книгу ‘… and that’s when it fell off in my hand.’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 11

Phoned my very bestest pally, Jas.

“Jas, it’s me.”

“What?”

“Jas, you don’t sound very pleased to hear from me.”

“Well… I would be, but it’s only five minutes since you last phoned and Tom is just telling me about this thing you can do. You go off into the forest and—”

“This hasn’t got anything to do with badgers, has it?”

“Well… no, not exactly, it’s a wilderness course and you learn how to make fire and so on.”

Oh great balls of merde here we go, off into the land of the terminally insane, i.e. Jasland. I said as patiently as I could because I am usually nice(ish) to the disadvantaged, “You are going off on a course to learn how to make fire?”

“Yes, exciting, eh?”

“Why do you have to go on a course to learn how to open a box of matches?”

“You can’t use matches.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a wilderness course.”

“No, wrong, Jas, it’s a crap course where people are too mean to give you any matches.”

She did that sighing business.

“Look, Georgia, I know you’re upset about Robbie going off to Kiwi-a-gogo land.”

“I am.”

“And you not having a boyfriend or anything.”

“Yes, well…”

“And, you know, being all lonely, with no one to really care about you.”

“Yes, all right Jas, I know all th—”

“And the days stretching ahead of you without any meaning and—”

“Jas, shut up.”

“I’m only trying to say that—”

“That is not shutting up, Jas. It is going on and on.”

She got all huffy and Jasish.

“I must go now. Tom has got some knots to show me.”

I was in the middle of saying, “Yes I bet he has…” in an ironic and très amusant way when she brutally put the phone down.