Читать книгу ‘… and that’s when it fell off in my hand.’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 72

Slim told us exciting news this morning. Elvis Attwood, the most bonkers man in Christendom and part-time caretaker, is retiring. We started cheering but had to change our cheering into a sort of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” thing because Hawkeye was giving us her ferret eye. Slim was rambling on in her jelloid way, chins shaking like billyo.

“So, as a special thank you for all the magnificent work Mr Attwood has put in over the years, we will be having a going-away party for him. We will have music and so on, and perhaps Mr Attwood will show us how to ‘get with it’, as you girls say.”

She laughed like a ninny. Get with it? What in the name of her enormous undergarments is she raving on about? The last time Elvis did any dancing he had to be taken to the casualty department. So every cloud has a silver lining.

I said to the Ace Gang as we trailed out of Assembly to RE, “What started out as a scheissenhausen day has turned out to be a groovy gravy day.”

I am looking forward to RE because while everyone has their little snooze I can read my letter from the beloved.