Читать книгу ‘… then he ate my boy entrancers.’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 100

Oh, I just can’t stand this hanging around waiting to go on the Luuurve Plane.

Come on come on!!!

I’ve been trying out arrival outfits. Boots or shoes? It’s hard to know what to do weatherwise. Also, I may have to go from day wear to evening wear, depending on the timezone business.

I am practising speaking Hamburgese, even in my own head. The key seems to be to add stuff, so instead of weather you say weatherwise. Timewise. Daywise. Luuurvewise, etc.

But on a more seriouswise note, this time business is v.v. aggravating fashionwise.

I said to Jas on the phone (she is opting for sensible sports casual for travelling)…I said to her (Mistress of the Time Lords), “Are we flying backwards in time, or what?”

“Yeah, they are six hours behind us.”

“Why are they? Why can’t they just keep up with us? Didn’t we invent time?”

“What?”

“You know, Greenwich Mean Time – didn’t we invent it? So why can’t they just be the same as us?”

“Because they would be getting up in the middle of the night.”

“So?”

But you can’t reason with Jas.