by Dyan Sheldon
THURSDAY 25 JANUARY
It took ages to get Mrs Kennedy’s twins to bed tonight. They must have visited their dad at the weekend, because they were all wound up about him. Dad this … Dad that … Dad … Dad … Dad… Boring or what? I think they’re confusing him with someone who isn’t doing time for armed robbery. Shane said their dad was coming home soon, and I reminded him that soon was nearly a year away. Children have no real sense of time. I had to keep interrupting my conversation with Disha to tell them to chill out, and it was a v important one. (Disha managed to get the information that Catriona Hendley used to live across the road from Elvin, so that’s how they know each other – I’m not sure if I think this is good news or bad news.) I had to tell the twins to be quiet so many times that in the end Disha said she’d rather have a bath than listen to me screaming at Shane and Shaun so we hung up. Rang Sara Dancer. Now she’s having third thoughts. She says she’s going to have to have sex sometime, so why not now? And also she says it’s like putting off a haircut. I don’t think so. There’s nothing even remotely romantic about having your hair cut. Sara says maybe she’ll meet somebody Saturday night. She’s going to a party.
The MC was polishing off a bottle of wine when I got home. (On top of EVERYTHING, now she’s started drinking as well! I don’t know why, but it irritates me when she gets really inebriated.) First she told me what time it was and that these late nights had better not affect my school work. Then she wanted to know where Mrs Kennedy went tonight. Doesn’t she know they have pubs and cinemas in London and she doesn’t have to go to Bristol for a drink after her computer class? I felt like telling her to get herself on Prozac IMMEDIATELY. It’s bad enough she’s always on at me, but extending her attacks to the neighbours can’t be a good sign.
FRIDAY 26 JANUARY
I had a nightmare last night that Johnny Depp was my brother and Catriona Hendley was going out with him. Every time I turned a corner, there they were frantically exchanging saliva and flu germs. It was so scary it woke me up. On the other side of love, the Mad Cow and Sigmund were shrieking at each other in the kitchen. You’d think they were trying to wake the dead the way they were carrying on. I wish they’d go back to just ignoring each other like they usually do. It was two in the morning, for God’s sake! I mean, REALLY! One minute she’s angry with poor Mrs Kennedy for staying out after her class and ruining my sleep, and the next she’s started World War III practically next door to my room! And they’re always telling me I never think about anyone else! I got my Discman and plugged myself in so I could get some sleep.
Tomorrow Disha’s going with me to the yoga centre to buy a mat so I don’t slip over again. I have to pay for it myself, of course. Sigmund won’t give me the money because he says it’ll just wind up with a bunch of plants on top of it like the piano. The Mad Cow can usually be worn down eventually, but she won’t cough up either this time. She says she paid for the leotard and the leggings, and that was enough. What did I think she was – MADE OF MONEY? I’m beginning to think she’s made of toxic waste. I wonder if I should suggest hormone replacement therapy.
SATURDAY 27 JANUARY
OH MY GOD!!! YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS!!! Disha and I were coming out of the yoga centre with my new mat (lilac because they didn’t have black) and a Tibetan meditation CD (to help me get in the right mood, which is v important) when, as if drawn by the invisible forces of the universe, we happened to glance through the window of the veggie café next door. Sitting right in the middle of the room was Elvin. I was struck anew by how excruciatingly attractive he is. (I’m amazed it never really hit me before.) I swear, my heart LITERALLY skipped a beat (a sure sign of the first stirrings of Passion). And then my heart hit my kneecaps when I saw who was sitting with him. You could have knocked me over with a crisp wrapper. OH YES!!! None other than Catriona Hendley. She’s like a germ the way she gets everywhere. Elvin and the Hendley were eating salads and having a v intense conversation. At least she was. She was leaning over so much she was practically in his lap! (It’s just as well she doesn’t have boobs or she would’ve suffocated him.) And then it hit me! Elvin and the Hendley have something in common besides being ex-neighbours! Everybody at school knows Catriona Hendley is the biggest vegetarian since the cow because she’s always banging on about it (you’d think she’d invented it, the way she goes on). But I’d no idea about Elvin. I could see it all clearly. Catriona was trying to worm her way into Elvin’s life through lettuce and herbal teas. I asked Disha why she hadn’t told me about Elvin being a VEGETARIAN Serious Film-Maker, and she said that since she didn’t hang around trying to see Elvin eat she couldn’t possibly know a thing like that, could she? She said she didn’t think it was important anyway. (I’d like to know what she thinks is important!)
Nobody else at home tonight. Justin sloped off as soon as he’d stuffed his face, and then a while later Sigmund and the Mad Cow rushed off shouting at each other. Isn’t life ironic? If I’d known I was going to have the flat to myself I’d’ve stayed home and enjoyed the luxury of all the peace and quiet, but I’d already planned to go over to Disha’s. So, to take some advantage of this Gift from the Gods, I helped myself to some of the politically correct bath oil Sappho gave the Mad Cow for the winter solstice (which is tested on nothing except chemists and is more expensive than plastic surgery) and had a long soak before I went. (Can you believe how childish my mother is? She hid the bath oil behind the tinned vegetables because she thought I’d never find it there!) The bath was bliss! Oh, how I long to live on my own! When I can’t sleep and I don’t feel like a Romantic Fantasy, I plan my entire flat. I choose the furniture and the kitchen units, everything. I even invite people over for dinner.
SUNDAY 28 JANUARY
Desperate times call for desperate measures, and if starting to Fall in Love with someone who is being stalked by Catriona Hendley isn’t desperate times I don’t know what is. So even though the book says that constructive spells (like making someone have a hormone rush every time he sees you) should be made during a full moon, I called an Exploring Other Dimensions Night last night. It was a new moon, so I decided to think laterally the way Sigmund is always telling me to. I reckoned we could trick the Other Dimensions into thinking there was moonlight. We rounded up every candle we could find (including a Frosty the Snowman one left from Christmas, a pack of birthday candles and Calum’s skull candle, which he wouldn’t be needing since he wasn’t home). Then we waited till Disha’s parents went to bed so we didn’t have to worry about being interrupted. That got us to one in the morning. Disha’s mother is a phenomenal snorer (MUCH worse than Sigmund). Her snores are to ordinary snores what a nuclear bomb is to a slingshot. We left the transom over Disha’s door open, and as soon as we could hear the earth-shaking snorts and wheezes that meant Mrs Paski had passed out, Disha started lighting the candles while I started lighting the incense. The candles were going out as fast as she was lighting them, so we shut the window (Disha’s father believes in AIR the way my father believes in Freud). Her room looked well wicked when we were done. Holding hands, we sat in the middle of the floor with our eyes closed. I started the incantation. “Pray to the moon when she is round—” But I didn’t get any further, because Disha told me to be quiet and listen. I didn’t hear anything. Disha said that was exactly what she meant. Her mother had stopped snoring! Disha has a more pessimistic nature than I do. She immediately decided that this meant her mother was getting out of bed to come and check on us. I said not necessarily (if I didn’t have such an Artistic Soul I might consider being a solicitor, since I also have a very logical mind). I said maybe Mr Paski rolled her out of bed to shut her up. That’s what the Mad Cow used to do to Sigmund (though lately she just makes him sleep on the couch, which is pretty bloody inconvenient if you want to sit up late watching a film). Anyway, Disha started blowing out the candles in a frantic sort of way. We just got them all out when a sound even more horrific than Mrs Paski’s snoring shattered the peaceful silence of
the night. Disha clutched my hand. Her palms were already sweating. “Oh my God!” she whispered. “We’re being burgled.” I told her that it definitely wasn’t the house alarm. I’m an authority on house alarms. Ours was always going off till Sigmund ripped it out in a fit of temper, so I know what they sound like. This was more like an air raid siren. It wasn’t easy getting to the light switch because of all the candles. Every time we took a step we knocked another one over. We were still groping around in the dark when Mr Paski started running through the hallway shouting, “Fire! Fire! Everybody get out of the house!” We didn’t need to be told twice. I once put the iron on my hand (I was thinking of something and wasn’t looking), and Disha once set her shirt on fire with a candle, so we both knew the agony of burning flesh. We trampled over the candles and hurled ourselves through the door. Mrs Paski had a blanket over her shoulders and a pair of high heels on her feet, but Mr Paski was just wearing pyjama bottoms, a ratty old Pink Floyd T-shirt and one sock (God knows what he’d been up to!). We all ran into the road to wait for the fire engine. Every time we heard a siren Mr Paski shouted, “There they are!” But they weren’t. Disha wanted to go back inside to save her new leather jacket, but her mother wouldn’t let her. There was a bit of an argument about that, but then Mr Paski started ranting and they both shut up. After a while Mrs Paski said she didn’t see any smoke. Mr Paski told her that was the most dangerous kind of fire, the kind without smoke. Mrs Paski pulled her blanket tighter and sniffed. She didn’t smell smoke either. Mr Paski said he smelled smoke. He asked me and Disha if we smelled smoke, and we said we guessed so since agreeing was a lot easier than disagreeing. Mr Paski started standing on one foot. I wondered if he’d ever done yoga. After another while, one of the neighbours poked his head out of an upstairs window. Mr Paski explained about the fire. The fire engine was there in minutes. Apparently, in all the confusion, neither of the parent Paskis thought of actually ringing the fire department!!! By then half the road was out on the street. Disha and I were just about to go next door for a cup of tea when a fireman came out of the Paskis’ with Frosty in one hand and the skull in the other. Apparently the smoke from all the candles set off the alarm in the hall. Mrs Paski mumbled something, and then she started laughing. Mr Paski didn’t laugh. (He didn’t laugh later either, though Disha and I did.) Mrs Paski told him to look on the bright side. If Calum had been home, he would have been filming the whole thing.
The MC and Sigmund weren’t laughing either when I got home. Nobody told me, of course, but Nan broke her elbow falling off a bus yesterday. Apparently that’s where they went rushing off to last night – the hospital. They had to put a pin in her elbow to hold it together. I didn’t quite get the whole story. Sigmund and the Mad Cow were busy moving their stuff out of their bedroom so Nan could sleep in there so all I got was a garbled account from Nan. She kept laughing and saying I should’ve seen the other guy (I presume she meant the pavement). They must’ve given her some heavy drugs for the operation. The major part of the story is that Nan and Mr Kipling (her cat) have moved in with us until her elbow’s healed enough for her to be on her own (which could take MONTHS considering how old she is). Her arm’s all wrapped up in plastic like a hunk of meat. It looks really GROSS. Sigmund’s wigged out completely. “Is this what Jesus would do if He broke His elbow?” he kept asking. “Move in with His son?” I hope he remembers this when he’s old and feeble and wants to move in with me!
MONDAY 29 JANUARY
Sara Dancer’s father twisted his ankle on Saturday night so Sara stayed home to look after him instead of going to the party. I think this may be an excuse. It’s only an ankle, for God’s sake.
Back in the land of the sexless, there was so much trauma at home last night because of Nan (Sigmund and the Mad Cow are both sleeping on the couch now, which is not exactly an optimum situation) that I forgot all about doing my spell again until I was getting ready for bed. It was raining, so I reckoned it didn’t matter if the moon was full or not. I mean, who’s going to see it anyway? I lit some candles and sat cross-legged on my bed in my underwear so I’d be more in touch with my primitive self. I closed my eyes and REALLY concentrated. At first I had to keep checking to make sure I was saying it right, but after a while I started to get into it. I swear I could feel the Spirit of the Female Goddess filling my room. I started rocking gently back and forth and chanting, “Queen of the Moon … Queen of the Sun … Queen of the Heavens … Queen of the Stars…” (I didn’t plan to do this. It just happened! It was well wicked!!!) I forgot about who I was, and where I was. I was an Aztec maiden or an ancient Druid. I was drifting in the cosmos like a particle of light, unfettered by the chains of the material world. At least I was until Nan screamed, “Praise be to Jesus! It’s the devil’s spawn!” I came back to Earth pretty sharply at that. My first real spell and I had a manifestation! The devil’s spawn! How brilliant can you get? I opened my eyes, shouting, “Where? Where’s the devil’s spawn?” Turns out there wasn’t any manifestation – Nan was actually talking about me! Can you believe it? Her own flesh and blood! I was well disappointed. It took EONS to calm her down (it’s a good thing I wasn’t naked). The Mad Cow put a sign on the bathroom door that says BATHROOM in case Nan gets confused again. I demanded that the lock on my door is fixed, but Sigmund isn’t having it. He gave me twenty excruciatingly boring minutes on why he doesn’t believe in locks (he doesn’t know how to fix them himself and he’s too cheap to pay someone else to do it is why).
TUESDAY 30 JANUARY
Late again for school. Mr Kipling slept on my jacket and it was COVERED with hairs (he must have a disease; it can’t be normal for a cat to shed that much!), but the MC refused to remove them for me while I had my breakfast. She said if I hung up my jacket instead of tossing it on the floor, Mr Kipling wouldn’t be able to sleep on it. Anyway, it took EONS to get the hairs off with sticky tape, so that’s why I was late. Not that Stalin cared about my traumas, of course. He gave me another detention. (According to the papers, teachers are leaving the profession IN DROVES, but not Mr Wilkins, of course. Probably he knows he’d never get another job.) One more example of the unfair nature of life, since obviously it wasn’t even my fault.
Disha discreetly pumped Calum for more information on Elvin. (There’s not a doubt in my mind that Disha is my cosmic sister. I know in my Soul it’s no coincidence that we were born in the same year, in the same borough of the same city and go to the same school.) Anyway, besides being a veggie, Elvin (according to Calum) is very concerned about the state of the planet. He feels film-makers have a responsibility to show the world as it really is and to help protect it (so at least there’s no danger that if I do Fall Madly in Love with him he’ll go running off to Hollywood). Elvin’s anti-hunt, anti-vivisection, and anti-international globalism (he’s anti so much that even Sappho would approve). I asked Disha what international globalism was, since it’s one of those terms that everybody uses but no one ever explains. I thought it might have something to do with the age of communication and being able to e-mail anywhere in the world in a second, but Disha said it had something to do with those riots they have every spring. So she isn’t sure either. But whatever it is, Elvin was nearly arrested outside McDonald’s at the riots last year. No wonder Catriona Hendley’s after him. She’s always protesting about something. She’s practically London’s answer to Joan of Arc. Besides all that, Elvin’s taking some sort of eastern martial arts course (for the philosophy, not the ability to break a brick wall with one hand, of course), but Disha couldn’t remember which one. And also his star sign’s Leo. I don’t know anything about Leo. I’ll have to ask Willow.
The police were round at ours when I finally got home this afternoon! At first I thought they must be looking for Justin, but they were there to talk to Nan. Apparently she didn’t fall off the bus; she jumped after some guy who’d grabbed her bag. She downed him, but he got away (sans said bag). The police were v impressed with her quickness of mind and body. Nan said it was
the way she was trained in the war. She’s obviously still suffering from the drugs.
GET THIS!!! Geek Boy overheard me telling Disha about the police and everything, and he said Nan REALLY WAS in the war. I said right, in an air raid shelter (which D thought was v funny), but Justin said no, not in an air raid shelter, in France! He said she was some sort of spy. Disha and I nearly choked, we were laughing so much, but later I asked Sigmund and he backed Justin’s story. He said not only did they give her a medal for bravery, but I’d seen it at least a million times because it’s up on her mantelpiece, next to Grandad’s ashes. So then I asked the MC, because although she has a lot of faults, winding me up isn’t one of them. Plus she doesn’t have a sense of humour. The MC said if I visited Earth more often I might have some idea of what was going on around me. Which I took to be confirmation of Justin’s story. My grandmother the spy. I REALLY can’t believe it. The MC said that’s because I think Nan was born OLD, which she wasn’t. I said did she mean unlike her, and she said she took it back; I should stay on my own planet or she might have to kill me. Didn’t I say she has no sense of humour?
