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the Laugh.
    two minutes later
    I wish I could phone the Hornmeister up now. This is when his Horn advice would be really good. Things have been a bit weird between us since he started seeing Emma. She’s so nice, it’s depressing.
    Maybe that’s why he’s going out with her—because she’s so nice, he doesn’t know how to dump her.
    Or maybe he likes nice people. Even her hair is nice. And her nose. How annoying is that?
    And she’s nice to me.
    I hate that.
    ten minutes later
    Perhaps I can sort of sense what the words say bylooking at the envelope and using my psychedelic powers. I saw some geezer in a frilly shirt on TV who said that we all could tap into our clairvoyant side if we just concentrated.
    I am looking at the envelope and concentrating.
    five minutes later
    My eyes have gone all blurry. Oh excellent, I am going blind. That’s perfect, isn’t it? Now even if I open the letter, I won’t know what it says or who it’s from.
    one minute later
    I can see a bit now. However, I think this is a lesson for us all…never trust blokes who wear frilly shirts and they are not doing it for a laugh.
    one minute later
    OK, this is it. I am opening the letter.
    7:40 p.m.
    The letter said:
    Hi Georgia,
    Since you had to, er, catch your train lastSaturday I haven’t been able to get to see you. Do you fancy going for a coffee tomorrow night? I’ll meet you at the bottom of East Street at 7:30 p.m. and we can catch up. I promise not to bring any photos of sheep. Jas tells me that you are allergic to wildlife….
    Robbie
    Blimey. I am still as full of confusiosity. Is this good or bad? Am I glad it is from Robbie? Why hasn’t Masimo got in touch? What does Robbie mean by “going for a coffee”? That is as bad as “See you later” in boyspeak.
    one minute later
    Does “going for a coffee” mean, you know, “going for a coffee”? Or does it mean, “Let us start with coffee and end up at No. 7”?
    I must phone Jas.
    Jas’s dad answered. Blimey. I’d never heard him speak on the phone before, I’d only seen him sucking on his pipe, reading his paper or going out in sensible welligogs. Which is what you want in a dad, pipe sucking, silence and going away, but can you tell my vati that? No, you can’t.
    Jas eventually came to the phone.
    She said, “What?”
    â€œWhy did you say ‘what’ like that?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œDon’t start, Jas, I have just had a letter from Robbie.”
    â€œOh, did he dump you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œReally? Blimey. I thought he might have been put off by your running. It’s really weird, you know.”
    â€œWell, he wasn’t, and he wants me to go for a coffee.”
    â€œBlimey.”
    â€œI don’t know what going for coffee means.”
    â€œBlimey.”
    â€œJas, can you say something else besides ‘blimey’?”
    â€œGee, I have to go now because Tom is leaving and I won’t see him again for seventeen and a half hours.”
    Oh dear Gott in Himmel.
    four minutes later
    Back in bed trying to keep my mind on higher things.
    I wonder what number Jas’n’Tom have got up to on the snogging scale.
    I have been very lax about finding out.
    For the sake of science I think I had better do a survey of the ace gang and see if anything needs to be added since ear nibbling.
    ten minutes later
    I don’t know why I am bothered, though. There might as well not be a snogging scale as far as I am concerned. I am well and truly a snog-free zone, which is unusual when you are supposed to be a boy magnet and have two or more Luuuurve Gods in your handy pandies.
    In fact, when was the last time I snogged anyone, man or beast? (Not counting accidental tonguesies with my sister.) I may have forgotten all my skills, which I had better polish up on in case I have to pucker up for the Sex God.
    What is that