Читать книгу ‘Luuurve is a many trousered thing…’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 51

I am absolutely full of exhaustosity. How difficult can it be to be casual? We coached Jas for four hours. It was like talking to a lemming in a skirt.

First of all, we tried it her way. Always a mistake in my humble (but right) opinion. Her idea of casualosity essentially means that she says: “Does Robbie fancy Georgia? Or is he normal?”

I had to use clevernosity to get Jas to do what I wanted in the end. I said, “I’ve got an idea. You know how good you were as Lady MacUseless and everything, Jas?”

Jas said, “Yes, it took quite a lot out of me, actually. Do you remember the bit when I had the dagger and…”

Oh no, three million years were going to go by while she relived her big moments in the school play.

I interrupted her by hugging her so hard that her head was buried in my armpit and said, “Yes, yes, now this is my idea.”

I asked her to act out what she was going to do in an improvised scene, like in drama. She loves that sort of thing as she is such a teacher’s bum-oley kisser.

Rosie volunteered to be Tom. She said, “I’ve got the legs for it.”

Incidentally I’m a bit worried that she was able to whip out a false beard from her rucky. I said that to her, I said, “Rosie, do you carry a beard around with you at all times?”

And she said, “Well, you never know.”

The Viking bride-to-be gets madder and madder. We are definitely entering the Valley of the Unwell.

Anyway, Jas was mincing around like a mincing thing, warming up, flicking her fringe at Tom (or Rosie in a beard, as we know him). It was incredibly irritating. I was on the edge of a mega nervy b. and supertizz as it was. I said, “Jas what in the name of arse are you doing?”

And she said huffily, “I am getting into character.”

I said, “But you are being you.”

She looked at me like I had fallen out of her nose. “I am finding the inner me.”

Good grief. Her “inner me” is bound to be an owl.

Eventually she was ready and came pratting girlishly up to Rosie and twittered, “Oh, Tom, I found some vole spore down by the woods.”

Tom/Rosie said (in a French accent, for no apparent reason – it must be the beard), “Ah, did you, my liddle pussycat? Would you like to, how you say… kiss my beard?”

Jas actually blushed and said, “Well, you know I would, Tom… but maybe, you know, in private, not in front of everyone.”

I had to put a stop to this. It was like watching some pervy film, like Two Go Mad in Bearded Lezzie Land. I said, “Will you get on with it?”

Jas predictably lost her rag immediately over the slightest thing and said, “I was just getting in the mood, actually, and anyway this is stupid, practising to be casual. I know how to be casual.”

I said, “Well, why don’t you BE casual then?”

She gave me her worst look, but eventually after Mabs gave her a Midget Gem they started again. Jas said to Rosie, who now had a pipe, “Tommy-wommy?”

“Oui.”

“Well, I was just, you know, thinking about Robbie. It’s nice he’s back, isn’t it?”

“Mais oui – très très magnifique.”

It was pointless objecting about the Froggyland language, especially as Ro Ro was now plaiting her beard.

Jazzy said, “Did he come back, you know, because he missed England and his mates? Do you think he will join the Stiff Dylans again?”

I looked at Jas in amazement. She had asked an almost good question in a quite subtle way and not mentioned me. Blimey.

And it only took four-and-a-half hours of torture. We had to leave it there because Sven came along yodelling through the trees (no, I am not kidding).