Читать книгу ‘Luuurve is a many trousered thing…’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 92

Mum caught me ironing my hair. God, she made a big deal out of it. It’s probably the first time she has seen an iron. Bloody hell, ramble on, why don’t you?

She was all red-faced. “By the time you are twenty-five your hair will be like nylon.”

I said, “Mum, who cares what I look like at twenty-five? I will be in the twilight zone of life by then, like you.”

If I hadn’t used my athletic responses I could have been quite badly injured by Mum’s hairbrush. She is very unstable.