Free Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 04 by Dancing in My Nuddy Pants Page A

out, SG came round. We snogged for thirty-five minutes without stopping (I timed itbecause I could see the clock over Robbie’s shoulder). Rosie rang whilst he was here and said they were having an indoor (!) barbecue at her house tonight. The theme is “sausages.” Robbie couldn’t make it, though, because he is rehearsing.
    Bye-bye, dreamboat.
    8:30 p.m.
    I didn’t go to the sausage extravaganza. Heaven only knows what sausages would bring out in me; I was bad enough at the fish party. I will concentrate on my French vocabulary instead so that I can ask for things in Paris.
    9:00 p.m.
    Sausage is saucisson in French. Shut up, brain.
    9:05 p.m.
    I am a bit worried because Robbie turned up this afternoon not in his groovy mini, but on a secondhand bike.
    11:30 p.m.
    I hope he doesn’t suggest we go for bike ridestogether. It is minus a hundred and eighty degrees, and the last time I rode a bike my skirt got caught in the back wheel and I had to walk home in my knickers.

frogland extravaganza
    monday january 17th
    stalag 14
    quatre days to our frogland extravaganza french
    M’sieur “Call Me Henri” really is sooo cool and gorgey. He told us what we are going to do on our school trip to la belle France and what we should bring. We’re going to stay in Hôtel Gare du Nord and visit the Champs Elysées and the Pompidou Centre. Loads of très bon stuff. Madame Slack came in and took all our forms that we had to take home for signing—the forms saying that even if we were set fire to by raving French people, the staff are not responsible, etc. She also said, “Girls, on Saturday there will be a choice of excursion in the morning. You can go on a grand tour of the sewage system of Paris with me, go up the Eiffel Tower with M’sieur Hilbert or to theLouvre with Herr Kamyer. Please come and sign up for your choice.”
    As we queued up we argued about which trip to go on as a gang. Jas was the only one who wanted to go down into the sewers. I said to Jas, “What is the point of going down the sewers?”
    â€œBecause it is historical and we might learn a lot of stuff we don’t know.”
    I said, “ Au contraire , we will learn a lot of things we DO know. We will learn that French sewers are like English sewers, only French.”
    Jas looked like a goggle-eyed ferret.
    I explained. “It is just tunnels full of French poo—how different can French poo be from English poo?”
    So we are all going up the Eiffel Tower with Gorgey Henri.
    Ellen said, “I’m looking forward to going and everything, but I will really miss Dave the Laugh….He’s such a…”
    I said, “Laugh?”
    â€œYes,” she said, and went all red. Good Lord.
    I am, of course, used to being away from the Sex God. He’s only been back a week and I’m off to Frogland.
    I sometimes wish he was more of a laugh, though. There is a slight danger that underneath his Sex God exterior there lurks a sensible person. He has just bought a bike to save the environment. And it might not stop there…he might possibly buy some waterproofs.
    thursday january 20th
    Slim gave us her world famous (not) “Representatives of Great Britain abroad” speech. Apparently we have the weight of the reputation of the British Isles on our shoulders.
    I said to Jools, “I’m already tired, and we haven’t even got on the coach yet.”
    midnight
    I’ve managed to whittle down my necessities to one haversack full. Jas and I are doing sharesies on some things to save space. For instance, I am supplying our hair gel for the weekend and she is supplying moisturizer. I will not be sharing knickers with her, though.
    Â 
    I said au revoir to mon amour . He came round on his bike AGAIN, and also (this is the worst bit),he talked to my dad about Kiwi-a-gogo land…and he didn’t shoot himself with boredom. In fact, he even asked questions,