A very merry mistletoe to everyone!

OH! MY! GOD!

So - it was Magnus and Angus' party on Saturday. And guess what? I'VE GOT A BOYFRIEND!!!!

It was sooooooo amazing! Of course we all thought it was going to be a rubbish party because of the olds in the attic.

I'm sure you can remember Spud's disasterous delve into the world of `events organisation' earlier this year when his pycho-sister held a party that went so out of control that Armageddon was nothing compared to the Pudmore's house that night! Well, no one wanted a repeat of that, so Magnus (the one with the brains) had not only told his parents about the party, but he'd also arranged for them to be stationed in their bedroom in case of emergency. (OK, well maybe not quite an attic, but upstairs anyway!) Of course, with Angus (the pyromaniac of the pair) as a brother, you can never take too many precautions, so it wasn't a totally fuddy duddy, nerdy decision on Magnus's part. I mean no one can blame him for wanting to leave the house standing for Christmas.

Anyway, with the adults on duty upstairs and absolutely NO candles or tea-lights for atmosphere (I refer you to Angus the pyromaniac), everyone thought it was going to be a totally lame affair, but actually, it was OK. Arlette had gone with Jac Dhillon - I mean, that's been going on for nearly a year now - and Seema was with Greg - ditto on the time factor thing. In fact, I was the only one on my own, which, when you think about it isn't surprising as I haven't had a mate to go out with for the last year because the other two have been `in relationships'. Spud and Janet Dibner are still going strong too. Well, when I say I was the only one on my own, I meant of our crowd - there were a few dorky Year 10 kids as well as the boffin brigade from our tutor group - plus me and, of course, the recently single Kara Kennedy.

I'd just got a mouthful cheese and onion sandwich when Kara sidled up to me. She was all: `You know I'm as competitive as the next girl, Magenta - so long as the prize is worth it. But, let's face it, Daniel's so immature, he's just not worth the effort. You're welcome to him.'

The twins' mum had made this fruit punch and, believe me, it too all my self control NOT to tip it over her head - but we didn't want a repeat of the Spud-fest did we, so I became the bigger person and just walked away. Any more of this bigger person stuff and they'll need to start lowering bridges!

I went into the front room where people were dancing. Jodi Plock was there in her `death becomes her' outfit - grow a life! (Get it: death/life? Oh well, I never claimed to be a comedienne - although I think I did tell Jones the Bones that was one of my ambitions - but that was several lifetimes ago.) Anyway, she was trying to flirt with Daniel something rotten. Honestly she was dancing right in front of the table where he'd set up his decks in the front room and kept looking over at him. Puke! Puke! I don't know what he ever saw in her. Actually, Daniel was playing some really good tracks and I was dancing with Hattie and Chelsea. Until Marcus Ledbetter and Floyd Sedgewick started chatting them up and I decided to butt out. Honestly, boys ruin everything. They can't even let us girls have a good time without trying to muscle in on it.

`Mind if I sit with you for a bit?' I asked Daniel. I'd gone from really enjoying myself to suddenly feeling very alone, so any port in a storm, as they say.

`Sure.' He moved along the settee where he was sitting with his headphones on, lining up the next track. Then he added, quickly, `But don't touch anything!'

Cheek! As if! `What's that for?' I asked, pointing to a little knob on this control panel that looked like the cockpit of Concorde.

`It's a sound effect. But DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!'

`Fine.' I sat with my arms folded - just so that he would see that I wasn't some stupid little toddler who was going to fiddle with everything.

Daniel pressed the button that I'd pointed to and a sound like a police siren blared out till everyone stopped dancing and started looking anxious. `Watch this,' he said, smiling. He pressed another button that made a noise like a phone ringing and about half the boys went to grab their mobiles. It was so funny. I started giggling and Daniel was laughing too. Just then, I felt something fall on my head.

`My hair!' I said. I thought someone must have popped a party popper and the streamers were messing up my hair.

But Daniel said, `It's OK. Hold still.' He reached over and, very gently, took whatever it was off my head and held it up - and guess what it was? A sprig of mistletoe! Then, without any warning, he leaned over and kissed me. Just like that - sitting on the settee in the Lyles' sitting room.

Wow! I was, like: `Daniel! What are you doing?'

And do you know what he said? `Kissing my girlfriend - is that allowed?'

I was: `Oh! My! God! You want to go out with me again?'

And he said, `Never wanted to break up in the first place.'

Then he kissed me again. And this time it went on for so long, that he forgot to mix in the next track and everything went quiet. Suddenly, the whole room was whooping and cheering at us. How romantic is that?

Of course, Kara was all: `I knew it!' And she and Jodi both stomped out of the room - but who cares - DANIEL AND I ARE AN ITEM AGAIN!

Wow - I have not stopped smiling since Saturday night.

This is so going to be the best Christmas ever.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!!!

Festive fun?

I know, I know! It's been three months since I wrote on my blog. Arl's always on to me with stuff like: `A blog isn't coursework, you know, Madge. There's no excuse for not keeping it up to date.'

And I'm like: `It's OK for you. You don't have Godzilla on your case every day and the tutor from Hell every weekend.'

Honestly - this term has been a nightmare! Don't let anyone ever tell you that Year 11 is fun - because it's NOT! It's horrible: I hate it! All I've done since September is work, work, work. Coursework, homework, even housework! Mainly because Belinda went back to work this term and Gran says she's got no time because she looks after the baby. Now there's something to make your blood run cold - my gran looking after anything that lives and breathes. I wouldn't trust her to look after a fossilised frog, let alone my tiny little vulnerable baby sister. But Dad and Belinda seem to have taken leave of their senses - not that they had any in the first place - well, Dad didn't; although I always held out more hope for Belinda in that department. Sadly not, though. And who has to pick up the pieces of this little domestic dysfunction? Me!

I've had no social life for three months and, worse still, no love life. How sad am I? Almost sixteen (well, fifteen and four months) and I'm already a housewife. That is so NOT what I had planned for my life.

So when we finished school yesterday lunchtime, I thought I'd take the opportunity to grab some quality time with my mates down at the Filling Station before we went into town to spend some serious dosh and try and kick start the economy in a single afternoon.

But when we got to the coffee shop, who should be there sucking the face off Kara (netball knickers) Kennedy, but Daniel! Yuk! Honestly, he's been going out with her for about four months now - has he no self respect? Not that I'm remotely interested in him as a boyfriend, you understand. Been there, done that and have the emotional scars to prove it. But I do care about him - strictly on a friendship level of course.

Anyway, Seema, Arl and I decided not to hang about in the face of such grossness so we turned round to leave. But then we heard a yell from the booth where Daniel and Ms Twenty-twelve were playing tonsil hockey.

`What?' Daniel sounded shocked. `I was so NOT eyeing her up.'

`I saw you!' screamed Kara.

`How could see anything?' Daniel's voice was raised. `You were supposed to be kissing me.'

This sounded juicy, so I snuck into the booth next to them and surreptitiously pulled Seema and Arl in with me.

`I had my eyes open,' Kara said. (Which so proves that it's not passion if she keeps her eyes open.) Then she added victoriously, `And so did you. As I moved back, I caught you looking over my shoulder at her.'

Oooo - I looked round the Filling Station to see who'd come in that Daniel could have been looking over Sporty Spice's shoulder at?

I could hear Daniel's voice getting higher and higher pitched. `I'm sick of you and your petty jealousy. I didn't even notice her come in!'

`Ah ha!' Kara stood up, so I ducked down even lower behind the bench seating that separated us. `So how did you know that she had come in?' Oooops! Looked like Daniel had given himself away. `I've had enough! You can forget the Lyles' party tomorrow. I'll go on my own. We are so over, Daniel. Run home to your little Magenta!' What!!!!! I could hardly believe my ears. Then Kara leaned over the top of our seat and said to me, `You're welcome to him.' And she walked out.

Whoa! This was massive. I sat up and looked at Arl and Seema for advice. `What do I do now?' I mouthed. But they both shrugged. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, as my gran always says. So I knelt up on my seat and leaned over to where Daniel was sitting, staring into his hot chocolate.

`Hi Daniel. You OK?'

But he looked up at me, groaned and said, `Haven't you caused enough trouble already?'

Cheek! And I said I cared about him as a friend? Well, you can forget that. With friends like Daniel, who needs enemies?

Anyway, on the positive side, the Dungbeetle (my geriatric tutor) has gone away for Christmas, so I don't have to go to him this morning and tonight is Angus and Magnus Lyle's party. Ooooo I can't wait. Who knows, my first Christmas present might be a new boyfriend! Now, what shall I wear?

Dosey Doh!

Why me? That's what I want to know. Why, out of all the places Jordan Lee could have taken me last Saturday (bowling, pictures, concert, pizza, skating - to name but a few), did he choose -

A VILLAGE BARN DANCE????????!!!!!

Yes, you heard me correctly. A barn dance! There wasn't a single other person there who was under about fifty - apart from Jordan's younger sister, who's eleven going on three - and you should have seen what they were wearing. It was like a scene from some ancient Western hoedown with everyone in checked shirts and old fashioned jeans that were higher than Simon Cowell's. Even the wrinkly old women were in denim - which is sooooooooooooo not the way to grow old gracefully.

And this geriatric on a squeeze box was calling out all these things like, `swing your partner to the left' and `dosey doe' and `strip the willow' (if I'd been Willow, I'd have been out the door at that point!) What a nightmare! I was never any good when we did Country Dancing at Primary School, and it was clear from the first figure of eight that I hadn't improved. Of course it all went predictably wrong when I went pivoting off like some out of control sputnik and crashed into Jordan's dad, who ricocheted into some old biddy in Gwen Steffani boots and there was a multiple pile up in the middle of the Gay Gordons! But at least they cancelled the rest of the dancing - phew! Although one or two people started giving me the evils about it - I mean, honestly, how was I to know the Gwen Steffani wannabe had brittle bones?

Even the food was things like sausage rolls and disgusting wobbly quiches - gross. But the saddest thing for me (apart from the fact that Jordan knew ALL the steps to EVERY dance) was that in the heat of the village hall, with his aversion to artificial deodorants, and all that gyrating and reeling and threading the needle - well, you can imagine that any hope I might have had of a snog at the end of the evening was a total non-starter. Getting up close and personal was NOT an option. I think Arlette might have been right about his personal hygiene issues.

Anyway, I've been avoiding him all week but.... oh no! He's coming into the library now. Help! Need to get off the computer and find a book shelf to hide behind - quick!

No brainer!

What it boils down to is a simple choice: boyfriend, or no boyfriend!

And, I'm sorry, but I come down heavily on the side of - yes, you guessed it - boyfriend!

So Jordan Lee and I are going out on Saturday! Ooooooo, and I can't wait.

I wonder where he's going to take me.....

Choices.

OMG! Would you believe it - Jordan Lee has just asked me out! He is so gorgeous. He's a bit of a hippy. He comes in from one of the villages out of town and has this really sexy hair that's all touselled and this fabulous dimple when he smiles that makes my tummy do backflips. Wow! Am I the luckiest girl ever? You see - I knew there was nothing wrong with me really.

Of course, Arlette was soooooo jealous. She was all: `Ugh! Madge - he is so gross. How can you even think about going out with him?'

`What do you mean, gross?' The cheek of it! Just 'cos she's going out with someone who's practically still in nappies - well, Year 10, anyway. `I think he's really book.'

`But he's... he's ...dirty!' she said.

I was, like: `Durr! He's into organic vegetables and stuff. All earthy people are a bit grubby.'

`Your stepmother isn't and she's earthy,' Arl replied. `And I thought you didn't like earthy people after your stint on the farm last year?'

OK - she may have a point there - but Jordan is really cool and really gorgeous and ... although now I come to think of it, he can be a bit pungent sometimes. And actually, his fashion sense is so last century. And he does talk about crop rotation and harvesting and animal husbandry and stuff. (I didn't even know animals got married, let alone called each other husband and wife!)

So now I have a huge dilemma - do I go out with him because:

a) he's a nature lover and kind and gentle

b) he's veeeeeeeery good looking - and,

c) let's face it, if you smell of manure all the time, the aroma of a little baby-sick, isn't going to worry you too much is it?

Or, do I stay a single saddo for the rest of my life?

birthday blues and back to school misery.

Can you believe it - I'm in Year 11! And what do I get for it? Work! It's all: do your homework, do your course work, I need help with the housework. And have you noticed what they all end in? Work! Work, work, work! It's sooooo boring! There's no wonder I can't get a boyfriend.

Summer was a write off. All my friends were away for my birthday so I ended up like some saddo, going for a pizza with Dad, Belinda, Indigo, Gran and Auntie Venice. I mean, what did I look like? Madge No-mates trolling along with the relatives from Loonyville. Indigo screamed all the way through it - Belinda started breast-feeding her AT THE TABLE! Oh my God! Talk about die of embarrassment. Gran decided her anchovies were suspect and ended up picking them off her pizza and lining them up on the table so that it looked like some depressing fish mortuary. And then to make things a gazillion times worse, Dad had only gone and ordered a birthday cake - with candles on - and the waiter rang a bell so that everyone in the entire place stopped and looked at me while he waltzed in singing happy birthday and expected me to blow out the candles like some dorky toddler. It's probably slipped Dad's mind, but I am fifteen - not five! IT WAS THE WORST BIRTHDAY EVER!

And now school's not much better. We've been back a week and I've decided my life just isn't worth living. Even the gorgeous boy from the mini-mart had a girlfriend. And anyway he's going off to university next week. There are no decent boys at our school at all. They're either geeks or nerds and if they don't fit into either of those categories they're probably in a bell jar in the science lab!

I am so fed up - I HATE MY LIFE!

New talent on the block.

Happy birthday to me.

Fifteen and what do I have to show for it?

Do I have a boyfriend? No.

Am I having a party? No - all my friends are on holiday as they always are on my birthday.

Did I get nice presents? Don't even go there - my dad is averse to giving me money so I got this dorky dress that I woulnd't even put Sirius in for a fancy dress parade.

In fact, do I have a life? Answers on a postcard - NOT!

Gran's just sent me down to the mini-mart for some wrapping paper for my own present - how pathetic is that.

Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Check out the new boy at the the mini-mart. He is soooooooooooooo gorgeous. And I swear, he smiled at me.

OK - what else do we need. Maybe this birthday isn't going to be so bad after all.

Spot the (accidental) mistake!

My life is not worth living !

1) I have no boyfriend,

2) I have no hope of getting a boyfriend, because

3) I am hideously ugly!

Now you might think that this is not true and, to be perfectly honest, I would've agreed with you a few months ago. But now!!!!! OMG! First of all let me refer you to my previous blog about having had no sleep and always smelling of my little sister's sick but then add to that a zit the size of Everest right between my eyes, together with the pus-ridden foothills of the Himalayas spreading across my nose and forehead, and you have a vision of grotesqueness that no boy will go within a million miles of. I mean what's the point of getting rid of my brace and glasses only to be inflicted with skin like the surface of the moon?

Belinda was all: `What goes around comes around, Magenta.' Grrr! Just because I made a few comments about Spud's acne the other day she seems to think that this is some sort of Karma: like a biblical plague foisted on me to teach me a lesson. Well, I've learned it - OK! I will never be nasty about Spud again - or anyone else. I promise!

Oh my days! Janet Dibner and Spud have just walked past going to Daniels and you should see what she's ..... No! I will not go there. I will be strong and keep all my thoughts positive ones. I will be nice to everybody from now on.

`Hi Janet! Love your top. My Gran's got one just like it.'

Oooooh no! Now she's crying on Spud's shoulder.

Daniel's out on his balcony waiting for them: `Don't be so horrible, Magenta. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.'

I sooooo did not mean it to come out like that. But it's true - Gran has got one just like it. And now everyone thinks I'm a bitch, and even worse, Spud's put his own spin on it: `Don't worry, Janet, I think you look lovely. Madge is just jealous. She's never got over the fact that I finished with her.....'

The cheek of it! Can you believe it?

So I'm not only boyfriendless and ugly - I'm totally misunderstood too.

And now Indigo's crying again. I might as well put my life on hold and become a full time nanny and end up like one of those women in grey uniforms with humungous bosoms and flat shoes who mash up bananas and talk about potty training all day long.

Lacking a boyfriend

Oh my god! Daniel's only going out with Kara Kennedy - again!

And who am I going out with? No one! Seema's going out with Geeky Greg, Arl's going out with Jac Dhillon, Spud's going out with Janet Dibner (I know, it took me ages to get my head round that one) and I AM TOTALLY LACKING IN THE BOYFRIEND DEPARTMENT!

And, what's even worse is, I'm starting to think it might be me.

Holiday hell

What is the worst thing about having a baby sister? Hmmmm - let me see, could it be:

a) the sleepless nights because she's teething? or

b) the permanent smell of eau de vomit on my clothes? or

c) the digustingly gross nappy bucket that my super eco-friendly stepmother keeps her enviromentally politically correct towelling nappies in - IN THE KITCHEN!!!!! Eeeewww! or

d) the fact that my dad has a better social life than I do because he has a resident baby-sitter (i.e. Me!) so I never go out and never see anyone and we can't even go away on holiday because Belinda's still on maternity leave and Dad's business isn't doing very well and babies cost sooooooooo much - durr - have they forgotten they've got TWO daughters and teenagers cost money too. But do I get a look in? Ohhh, no! And how am I ever going to find another boyfriend when I can never go out because I'm always looking after Indigo and smelling of sick?

Life is so unfair!

Of course Daniel and his mum and stepdad went away to Portugal for two weeks. They came back the day before yesterday and he looks like he's been veneered in mahogany. Honestly - doesn't he know that he'll end up looking like a prune with skin cancer by the time he's twenty if he gets as brown as that.

Arlette was all: `Oooooo, Daniel, you've got a gorgeous tan.'

And Mr Slime said: `Thanks, Arlette. I tan really easily - even though I was slapping the factor 20 on like emulsion paint.' (To really hear what he sounded like you should read that bit in a stupid high pitched voice like a soprano mosquito.)

But of course Arl fell for his silver tongued smarm. She's so gullible.

Then to make things worse, I was just walking Indigo to the park (Belinda needed an afternoon nap - doesn't she think I might need some time off too?) when who should I see on the tennis courts but Daniel, Magnus Lyle, Carly Meekin - and Kara Kennedy (the psycho sports-bitch from hell who did her best to ruin my relationship with Daniel last year) playing mixed doubles together!!!!! Can you believe it? And no guesses for who was partnering Dan Dan Tanfastic-man. Well, she's welcome to him. I am so over him he's just a grain of sand on the desert of my memory.

Hold on a sec.... that sounds like my memory's a desert: barren and devoid of life. No, no, no - that's not what I meant. What I meant was.... oh, never mind. Who cares anyway? I am destined to be a lonely, boyfriendless old maid for ever.

Ooooooo, wait a minute. That boy standing by the tea room looks a bit gorge. Maybe I should do my caring big sis act and get Indigo an ice cream.

Oh great! She's just puked all down me!! So, home it is then. I was so much better off as an only child.

Life is a load of manure.

OK - that's it! Daniel and I are over - DEFO!

Not only have I spent the last two weeks up to my neck in pigs' muck and clucking chickens and sheep with all sorts of disgusting things crawling over them and goats that seem to delight in butting me in the butt and the creepiest creep this side of Creepyville telling me what to do like some yokel-ified Adolf Hitler but, when I got home aching and tired and stinking of all-of-the-above and just needed the love and affection of my boyfriend - did I get it? I don't think so!

What did Daniel do? He went on and on and on ............ about some girl at his work placement. "Oh, you should've seen Sally..." `Sally was so funny today..." "Wow, Sal is so cool..." Sal? SAL! Every day he was like that. Ggggrrrr!

In the end I'd had enough.

`You know what, Daniel? If Sally is sooooooooo fantastic, why don't you just go out with her?' And I stormed off out of his room, across the balcony and home.

I tried to phone Seema for some sympathy but she was full of her work experience. I mean, let's face it, how can even a boffin like Seema expect me to get excited about a few old test tubes? Get real! And Arl was apparently `too tired to talk'! Durr! How did she think I felt? So that was it; my friends had deserted me; my boyfriend was lusting after some other girl and all I had for comfort was the fragrance of pig poo and a bruised bottom where Billy the Kid had used me for target practice.

Life is so unfair!

My worst nightmare

How come that everyone else gets their choice of work experience placement and I don't?

I put on my form; FASHION. I wrote it very clearly - block capitals and everything. It's all I've ever wanted to do. It's my dream - everyone knows I want my own label eventually. But did I get it? Ooooohhhhh no!

I wasn't even fussed when the great pink blob first told me she'd got me into a clothing factory as a pattern cutter for two weeks. Ok, it wasn't the design studio I'd hoped for, or even a boutique in the High Street; I was going to be cutting out old men's trousers and kid's vests and stuff, but it was still fashion, wasn't it? It was vaguely associated with the fashion trade (ish).

But then, just my luck - the factory burnt down! And before you even go there - no, I wasn't anywhere near at the time.

So what does my esteemed head of year come up with instead?

An inner city farm!!!!!!!!! Can you believe it? I am soooooooooo mad. I didn't even know till I turned up at the factory at 9 this morning to see a pile of smouldering rubble. And then Mrs Blobby rang me on my mobile and told me to go back into school to sort it out - and this is what she comes up with? Could it be any further removed from the career I'm hoping for? I don't think so!

Of course it doesn't help that Daniel is at a radio station (which is what he asked for) and Seema is in some boffin place lab working as a lab assistant (she gets to wear a white coat - which isn't my idea of haute couture, but it floats her boat) and Arl is helping out at the local nursery school like she wanted.

Why does this always happen to me? I'm supposed to be there at 7 in the morning. SEVEN! Can you believe it? And the guy said to bring my wellies - yeah, right! Like I own wellies.

I've said it before, but I'll say it again - MY LIFE SUCKS!

Malteser Squeezer

TGIF - big time.

OK - the worst thing about being in Year 10 is the humungous amount of exams we have to do, but on the other hand, we get STUDY LEAVE! (Aka - time off school) YAY!

And this afternoon's exam was Geography which, thank God, I don't do. (I wouldn't know my Med from my Menai.) So, I was all set for an early weekend when Spud ran up to me and handed me a box of Maltesers. Great, I thought. I know Spud's a bit of a nerd and he's had this crush on me for, like, forever but he can be quite sweet - except when he tells people I'm his girlfriend. Ok, Ok, I know I've ventured down that path once (yeah, once too often) but I'm thinking everyone's allowed the occasional mistake, right? Anyway, to get back to this lunchtime.

`Ooooo,' I said. `For me? How kind.'

`I thought you deserved them after a whole week of exams.' Spud was standing there grinning and leaning his cheek towards me like he wanted me to give him a kiss, but I'm thinking: acne alert! No way!

`Cheers, Spud. That's really sweet of you,' I said, moving swiftly on. I opened up the box and was busy handing them round my friends (you see, generosity is another of my good qualities) when this foghorn boomed out from behind me.

It was my old foe and adversary, Mrs Blobby. `Magenta Orange! No eating in the corridors!'

Which is another stupid rule this school has. Honestly! The only place you're supposed to eat is in the canteen. How ridiculous is that? I mean they'll be the first to get worried if they end up with a school full of anorexics because we're not allowed to nibble when we're hungry. `You know the drill Magenta,' she yelled. `Bring them here.'

Brilliant - now my present was going to be confiscated and I'd only had two myself. Life is so unfair sometimes. But just as she stepped forward to grab them, Billy O'Dowd (the career criminal of our tutor group) ran past me and knocked my arm. Running is banned in the corridors too, but did she yell at him - I don't think so! They always go for the soft targets. Plus, she was probably going to eat my Maltesers but she could hardly eat Billy O'Dowd, could she?

Anyway, my box of Maltesers went flying up in the air and then splattered down again like a chocolate rainstorm. Spud was picking them up, then rubbing them on his jumper and putting them back in the box - eeeewww!

`Fetch a broom!' she bellowed. Then the Great Pink Blob lurched forward ( I think she was trying to stop people crunching them into the floor of the corridor) but her foot slipped on the Maltesers and skidded forwards.

There was this windmill-like flailing of arms and a wail like an injured walrus as one of her legs shot forwards and the other went sideways. Then, with a momentary flash of lurid pink underwear (ugh - gross!) both legs went up in the air and she did a cartoon-type crash onto her back. It felt like an earthquake and at first I thought she was dead. The whole corridor went silent. Then:

`MAGENTAAAAAAAAAAAA!'

Ooops!

So, instead of having an afternoon off, I'm sitting in her office (supposedly) writing an essay on `The Dangers of Eating in School.'

Life sucks!

New Book - Yay!

OMG! We had our mock mock-English exam this morning. And Science this afternoon. What a nightmare - don't even get me started on the subject. I'm in shock.

But the good news is - the new book all about me is coming out on the 19th of this month and the publisher sent me some advance copies. Wow! You should see the cover, it's amazing. The book's called Magenta Sings the Blues and it's all about what happened earlier this year when our school did Battle of the Bands. There's a bit too about when I went to my first no-adults party (oh my days, talk about the night from hell) and my first rock concert (ditto - with bells on). Of course it also mentions about becoming a big sister, which is sooooooo the best thing that's happened to me for, like, forever.

But anyway, I'm not going to give away the plot, so you'll just have to read it for yourselves.

Now, if only I could find my exam timetable, I'd know what I was supposed to be revising for tomorrow - although I could just pop round to Daniel's and ask him. That sounds way more interesting than stupid revision. Yes, I think that's the way to go - defo!

Practise, practise, practise till becomes your practice.

Arl was asking me why I haven't been writing my blog so much recently - which I thought was pretty dumb question considering that she's got even less work to do than me (reference here to the fact that my sadistic father sends me to a tutor every Saturday so I get my school homework PLUS homework from my tutor) and she's always stressed to the max - so how does she think I feel?

Just about every teacher is giving us tests to get us ready for the exams after half term - which are mock exams for our real mocks in January. And when you think that the mocks are practice exams for the real things next year, then the mocks for the mocks are practices for the practices. So all the test we're doing at the moment are practices for the practices for the practices. And if anyone's even tempted to say `practice makes perfect' forget it, because all practice does is make me very peed off!

Anyway, Daniel's coming over tonight. We're supposed to be revising together but I've got this new sugar plum sparkly lip gloss, so I think I'll need to try it out on his lips. After all, if I'm ever going to be a perfect kisser, I'll need all the practice I can get!

A load of old bulls!

I know it's been a whole month since I wrote but, to be honest - I was in some godforsaken hole in Yorkshire for two of those weeks - without broadband OR mobile phone coverage (talk about the dark ages!) and it's taken me two more weeks to recover!

Let me fill you in on the holiday (ha! I thought holidays were supposed to be restful - well not this one!) First of all it took about a gazillion hours to get there along roads that were getting smaller and smaller by the mile - motorway, then dual carriageway, then single line traffic till eventually we were crawling down this track that was more mud than tarmac and Dad had to keep backing up to let other cars and tractors and lorries and even sheep go past.

Belinda was going all dewy eyed: `Oh isn't it beautiful...' (Excuse me!) and: `Smell that wonderful fresh air...' (if that air was fresh, they'd better start making air fresheners called pigs' muck!) and; `Isn't it magnificent?' (Yeah, if you like the colour green - which, if you remember my bridesmaid trauma you'll know, I DON'T!)

Anyway, we finally got to Margaret and Ed's ("Call us Grandma and Granddad" - er... NO! because you're not my grandma and granddad) and I was put in this poky little room at the top of the house with a sloping ceiling so that I banged my head if I stood up too near the window. They might not have noticed but I am slightly taller than your average 2 year old.

I spent ages trying to get reception but Ed said the only place round here was up at the top of the hill - great! What he didn't tell me was that the hill went up and down like a roller coaster, so that every time I thought I was almost there, it dipped down again and then I had an even bigger hill to climb. Ggggrrr! By the time I got to the top I was exhausted - and I still only had one bar on my phone. At least I did get through to Daniel and managed to say about three words before it broke up, so I had to go down again. Still, I thought, that won't be too bad because downhill's always easier. But when I turned round - oh my God! There was a whole herd of bulls staring straight at me! Aaaagggh!

Now as you will know, exercise of any sort is not my favourite pastime, but on this occasion, I thought running was preferable to being gored by a bull - and lucky for me I'd got my new trainers on. So I set off - but I'd only gone a few meters when the bulls started running after me - and they were faster than me. If I wasn't careful I was going to get trampled to death in a stampede. But the worst thing was, I was running downhill so I was getting faster and faster and building up so much momentum that, when I slipped in this disgusting heap of ... well I'm sure you can imagine... I couldn't stop myself. I went head over heels, tumbling over and over, gathering speed and manure like a huge stinking snowball - or, in my case - cowpat-ball - until I finally came to a halt at the bottom of the first dip. Phew! But then I heard this rumbling and the bulls were after me again. Help! I had to get up and start the whole escape thing again. It was like a recurring nightmare all the way down the hill: climb mini-hill, run down, slip in disgustingness, roll in more disgustingness, come to stop, climb up away from rampaging bulls, run down, slip in grossness again etc etc etc

Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, I'd just got the gate at the bottom of the hill looking like Manure-girl Queen of the Cowpat, when this boy (who couldn't have been much older than me) was standing there grinning like some big, stupid grinny thing: `You've brought my cows down for milking, have you? That's saved me a walk. Thanks.' Then he gave a whistle and they all came over to him. `Do you want me to walk you back to the village with the cows?' he asked, still with this smug smirk on his face.

`I can manage,' I said and walked back with as much dignity as I could muster, caked in mud and poo. The countryside is disgusting!

Anyway, I'm writing this in the library and the great pink Blob has just come in and said she wants a word with me. Oh boy! That's NEVER a good sign. I'll tell you some more tomorrow.

An excess of grandparents.

I know, I know, it's been ages! But, I'll be honest, I've been freeling a bit fed up. My plaster came off and I'm off crutches now - which is BRILLIANT! But I'm still walking with a limp, like I'm some sort of arthritic crustacean. I mean, how unsexy is that?

I'm back in school again now - just in time to break up for the spring holiday, but you'll never guess what... my dad's only said we've got to go and spend the whole two weeks of it with Belinda's parents - in some back-of-beyond village in Yorkshire which is full of coffin-dodgers and yokels. And he says that this time Daniel can't come too. Their place is too small apparently - and it's a holiday for family! Durr - hasn't it occurred to him that they're NOT my family?

I've got Gran, and my real mum's parents are still alive (OK, so Tasmania is hardly round the corner, but they send me presents and stuff, so they still count.) Why would I want Belinda's mum and dad to try and muscle in on the grandparent stakes? That sounds like too much of a good thing, to me - defo!

Call the Fire Brigade!

Two days! Two days! That was how long I'd been back in the Land of the Living (well, if you can call the people at school living - more like the Land of the Undead!) before I was barred! Can you believe it?



Honestly! I spent the whole weekend going on at Dad to let me go back to school before I died a slow and lingering brain-death and, against all odds, he agreed with me! (Stand back in amazement that my dad and I agree on ANYTHING!) Then, to be fair to him, he did his bit to get me rehabilitated into normal life by sucking up to The Crusher and .....



...Ta-da! Tuesday morning, there I was hobbling around the corridors of Archimedes High on my crutches. Ah - the smell of the bogs, the sounds of stampeding feet, the cries of anguish from Mr Kingston in registration - it was soooooooo good to be back.



Seema and Arlette were great at helping me around. Of course crutches, apart from being the most unbelievably uncomfortable implements of torture, are a complete fashion nightmare:

1) I've had to wear one of those disgustingly geeky backpacks to carry everything around in

2) I've had to have my blouse sleeves rolled down to protect my arms but my jumper sleeves rolled up because the arm grips are too tight to go round both. I look like some sort of nerdy farmer's wife.

And,

3) You should see the blue cotton shoe the hospital's given me to wear over my plaster - it's got velcro fastenings and everything! Gross!



But, apart from the clothing crisis, things were going pretty well. Daniel was being really sweet and carrying my things around when Seema and Arl weren't around and even the staff were being nice to me. But then - disaster!



We were in Science yesterday afternoon and I was a teensy bit late - because it takes me soooooo long to get up the stairs. Anyway, the lesson had already started when I got there. Mr Mukerjee was standing over a bunsen burner at the front and he waved for me to go and sit on the bench - right in front of him! I was like; durrr! No way am I sitting at the front! But he insisted.

Arl was with me so I lurched my way towards the front but, we were just passing Mr Mukerjee, when suddenly, my crutch caught the strap of Chelsea Riordan's bag which was sticking out from under the bench (she's such a creep, she always sits at the front).
`Aaaagh!' My crutch slipped sideways and I reached out to stop myself falling on to my broken leg, but I accidentally grabbed the rubber tube of Mr Mukerjee's bunsen burner.

`Help!' I screamed, as it writhed and wriggled in my hand like a flaming snake, hissing and popping as I tried to control myself and it. Fortunately, I managed to steady myself on my other crutch but when I let go of the bunsen burner, I dropped it on to some papers on the front bench. And they caught fire! I couldn't believe it. How irresponsible - to leave papers on a bench next to a naked flame!

`Sorry, sir,' I said as I tried to put out the flames by banging them with my crutch, but all that did was flick some of the papers over on to the window sill where the spare overalls were heaped up in a pile. Ooops! The next thing I knew, they'd gone up too and then the blinds started smouldering and dripping red hot blobs of plastic on to some packets of paper towels and.... well, I'm sure you can imagine the rest.
And all that in a matter of seconds. Honestly! That place is a total fire hazzard.

Of course Angus Lyle thought it was his birthday, Christmas, Diwali and New Year all rolled into one! Which didn't help with the evacuation of the building. What with Angus jumping up and down and rubbing his hands and me hobbling on my crutches, it's a miracle we're not burned to a crisp.

So, after all that, The Crusher has banned me from coming back to school until my plaster's off. How mean is that?
And do you think I got any sympathy from Daniel? Oh no! He was all, `Well, when I broke my leg.....' Ggggrrrr!

A crutch to lean on.

I think I might book myself a week in Hell just to have a rest!

Not only have I got arms like He-man - which is a sentence that should never cross female lips - but also, I'M BORED!
I thought it would be great having six weeks off school, but it's a complete nightmare.
1) I have to remember everything I want for the whole day and lug it downstairs in a backpack in the morning - on my bottom.
2) The stupid school have sent a stupid amount of work round for me to do - plus, Dad has got extra work from the stupid Dungbeetle and he comes round to home-tutor me - AT HOME! Talk about an invasion of privacy!
3) I'm missing out on all the goss. I mean, I know Arl and Seema phone me at lunchtime and after school, but it's not the same as being there in person. It's like I have to hear it all second hand - which is sooooooooo annoying.
4) I only have Gran and Belinda for company, which means that my conversations are either about motorbikes and wrestling, or yoga and wholefood. Mmmmmm - stimulating (NOT!)
and
5) I'M BORED!!!!!!!

Last week wasn't too bad because it was half term so my mates came round a couple of times, but they've gone back to school now and I'M FED UP! I can't even lug my sorry self to the bathroom and wallow in a few bubbles to drown my troubles.

There's nothing else for it - I'm going to have to do the noble thing. I'm going to have to bite the bullet, grab the bull by the horns, face my fears - I'm going to have to go into school on crutches!

Oh my God! I can't believe I'm saying this.

Drunk and extremely dangerous!

Just when I thought I'd hit rock bottom, it was a case of grab your safety helmet, we're going subterranean!



Last Friday night Daniel's mum, Mary, and his stepdad, Donald, invited us all round to their house for a little party (in the loosest sense of the word!) And Mary announced that they were going to have a baby! Can you imagine it - at her age! I mean, she must be nearly 40 and Donald is positively geriatric.

Daniel was being amazingly calm about it all.

He said, `Well your dad and Belinda are starting their own family.'

I was like: `Durr! Belinda's ten years younger than my dad, but your mum's .... well...' There was no easy way to say this. `... old!'



Ooops! He got the hump about that big time and wouldn't speak to me. Great! I was stuck at a wrinklies' baby shower with no one to talk to but the inhabitants of the tropical fish tank. Daniel had gone into a corner with his rodent featured brother, Joe, and they were drinking shandy and trying to look all grown up and sophisticated - as if! Belinda and Mary were swapping pregnancy stories and Dad and Donald were slapping each other on the back and knocking back Donald's single malt whisky.



I had no alternative - any port in a storm - I went and sat with Gran who was throwing Bailey's down her neck like it was in short supply.

`Wonderful news, isn't it, love?' she slurred, taking another gulp.

`Mmmm,' I sort of agreed.

`Do you want a drop? she asked, offering me her glass of sticky beige liquid.

`Gran!' I was shocked.

`Go on,' she giggled. `You're fourteen and a half. Kids in Europe drink wine at every meal. It won't do you any harm.'

Actually, what she said made sense. I am almost fifteen and I am very mature for my age. And everyone else in the room was drinking (except Mary and Belinda) so I thought; why not? I grabbed a tumbler and poured myself a hefty shot.

But when I took a slug of it - eeeeooooowwwww! Yuk! It was disgusting!

`Aaaagggh! I've been poisoned!' I spluttered, putting my hand over my mouth and making a dash for the toilet. But I hadn't noticed that Gran had put the bottle down by the side of her chair and as I turned to head for the door, my foot slipped on it and..... well - think you can imagine the rest.



Four hours in A&E, a plaster cast from my thigh to my toe and crutches that were formerly used by the Spanish Inquisition as implements of torture! And I'm going to be like this for 6 weeks!

Can you believe it!

On the positive side though - I can't go to school for all that time and Daniel's feeling really guilty about not staying with me, so he's being very supportive. It's only a teensy bit annoying that he keeps saying: `When I broke my leg ....'

Ggggrrrr! Doesn't he realise this isn't about him - it's all about me!

A spot of facial bother.

Wow! Things are certainly looking up in my life.

a) Daniel appears to have grown out of his selfish streak and is being the most gorgeous boyfriend EVER!
b) The bruising and swelling has gone down round my eyes and the stitches are out of my lip, so that I can now kiss the most gorgeous boyfriend ever - lots!
c) Belinda took me to this doctor guy who is also an optometrist or something - it was some weird name that sounded like he was going to amputate my eyes - but he didn't! In fact, he prescribed me some soft lenses so that I only have to wear my Ugly Betty glasses in extreme emergencies.
Which means that:
d) I am now a brace-free, glasses-free zone. All I need now is someone to permanently straighten my hair and I'll be like Mary Poppins - practically perfect.

Daniel was so sweet - when I told him that he said to me: `I think you're perfect anyway.' I mean how fabulous is that? Am I the luckiest girl in the world or what?

Of course there's been the minor tragedy of my exam results. I know you're probably thinking that I must've failed them all - but it was even worse than that - I passed! With flying colours - well grades B and C anyway. But that means that Dad won't let me stop going to my tutor. You'd have thought he'd have seen what a good job I've been doing at learning and let me off, but ooooooh no! He says I've got to keep going because he wants to see some As in there by the summer. Yeah right! I think Belinda must have been putting the funny honey in his porridge, because the chances of me getting an A in anything, are about as likely as Dad becoming president of the Women's Institute in Japan!

Anyway, apart from the minor detail of still having to go to the Dungbeetle every Saturday, things are pretty good at the moment.

Uh oh! What's that I can see in the mirror? OMG! I don't believe it. It can't be. Not after I've just got rid of all the other facial rubbish that was spoiling my natural beauty. I've got a zit - and it's the size of Vesuvius! Right on the end of my nose. And there's another on my chin. And a couple on my forehead. In fact there's a whole rash of them up there. How come I've never noticed them before? I'm going to end up looking like Spud! Waaaaagh! This is soooooooooo unfair.

Worst week ever!

OMG! Didn't I tell you I was getting pity chat-ups? Well it's true and yesterday lunchtime my life was going from rock bottom to twenty thousand feet below ground!


a) I was having to walk around school looking like an advert for Specsavers

b) We'd had exams ALL WEEK!

c) Dad had said that I had to keep going to my tutor on Saturday even though I'd been suffering extreme trauma all week with the exams and everything

and,

d) Marc Briggs is a total toad! (With apologies to all amphibians out there!)

As if I wasn't under uber stress all ready, I was in the quad at lunchtime yesterday when Marc came up and he was saying all these fantastic things to me like, how gorgeous I looked and how my new glasses really suited me and made me look really hot.
Seema and Arlette were winking at me and giving me the nod, as if to say, go for it.
Then Marc said, `I never thought I'd say this but, somehow your glasses emphasise your lips; they make them look even more kissable than normal.'

I was, like: WOW! I mean, no one has EVER said that to me before - except Daniel of course, but he doesn't count, because..... well, he just doesn't.

Arl gave me a nudge, so I thought, why not? What have I got to lose? (Ha! If only I'd known - there was my dignity for a start! ) Anyway, I jumped up and said, `You wanna try them out?' And I snogged him! Right there and then, in the quad, at lunchtime, in front of everyone.

But, ohmigod! I could hardly believe what I was hearing next. There was all this cheering and shouting coming from the other side of the quad. Then Tyrone Pearman shouted out; `Fair do's Briggsy - you win; that's a fiver I owe you!'

Can you believe it? He'd only done it for a bet! How horrible is that! I wanted to dig a big hole in the concrete and curl up and die right there in the quad. Instead, I pushed him away and ran towards the sports hall. I just needed to take cover and hide my utter and complete humiliation.

Only, just as I was going to push the swing door inwards, Daniel was coming out and pushed it towards me - right into my face! OOOOOWWWWW! It felt like my nose had exploded.
`Daniel! What the hell do you think you're ...!' I started to shout at him. But then I got this disgusting warm sickly taste in my mouth. Aaaggghh! and then I realised, my nose had exploded - all over me.
`Oh jeez, Magenta - I'm so sorry!' Daniel said, pinching the bridge of my nose and holding my head forward so that the blood that was pouring out of me didn't splash my uniform. Actually, he was very gentle - you can tell he's a trained first-aider. `Let's get you to the medical room,' he said. `I think you might need an X-ray.' Then he bent down and picked up something from the floor. `Oh, no - I think your glasses are broken.'
`Gr...ea...t,' I spluttered. `That's...the best.... bit...of news... I've heard... all week.'

Anyway, I went to A&E but my nose isn't broken - it's just badly bruised - along with my pride and my eyes -again! They'd only just gone down after the unfortunate trampoline episode. At this rate Bejing Zoo will be wanting me on permanent loan for their panda enclosure.

But, on the positive side:
1) Dad has said that he'll look into me having soft lenses (yay!) but he's said defo no to laser eye surgery (boo!)
2) I got to miss the Science exam on Friday afternoon (yay) but I have to take it on my own next week (boo!)
3) Dad has said I can have today off from going to my tutor (yay!) but I have to do supervised revision at home instead (boo!)
and, best of all:
4) Daniel and I are back on again (yay! And double yay!)

He was so sweet after the whole exploding nose thing - I think he felt a teensy little bit guilty - but I didn't mind. He bought me some chocolates and a CD and he kept coming round all last night to check on me. Then, first thing this morning, he came over the balcony and sat on my bed. He took my hands in his and, I must admit, I did go all jelly-wobbles inside.

He looked me straight in the eye (well, I think he did; it's a bit difficult to see properly at the moment.) `You know, Magenta, I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world - and I don't care if you've got two black eyes or if you wear glasses or braces or have to dress up like the Man in the Iron Mask.' Wow - how amazing is that? And I know he wasn't saying it for a bet, because there was only the two of us there. `And,' he went on, `if you'd agree to be my girlfriend again, I'd love to kiss you - when you're all healed up, obviously.'

So, life has finally started to look up again. Oooooo, I can't wait till I get the stitches out of my lip!

Ugly Betty

I hate them, I hate them, I HATE THEM!


I look horrible. And I had to go to school today in them. Of course I'm talking about my glasses.


Just when things were starting to go right for me and I'd got my braces off, this has to happen. It's so unfair. Honestly, when God was designing humans, eyes were one HUGE design fault. I mean, how can they start wearing out so early? Everything else works!


Personally, I blame Belinda. She was all; `I had to wear glasses at your age, Magenta, and now I wear lenses.' See - I've inherited the ugly-Betty gene from my stepmother. Then she tried to make me feel better. `I think you look very sophisticated and intellectual in them.'


Aaaaaaaaaagggggghhh! I already AM sophisticated! And who wants to look intellectual? Looking intellectual is about as sexy as a bowl of porridge!


Seema was trying to be all supportive. `Wow, they look really cool, Madge.'

Ha! Says Ms I'm-perfect-in-every-way-as-well-as-being-brilliant-and-multitalented, in fact, Ms I-have-no-flaws-whatsoever!


At break people were talking to me in that tone of voice usually reserved for the terminally hideous. Even Marc Briggs came over to me and was going on about how buff I looked. Great, now all I get now are pitychat-ups.

My life is over!

Two days!



That was all I had of being a normal, non-scaffold-mouth, teenager before.....oh my God, I can't even say it. It's tooooooooooo awful.



How am I ever supposed to get a boyfriend (and don't even go there with the whole well you had Daniel stuff, because if you're even thinking that, you need to read my books to see the whole history and how I'm better off without him.)



Anyway, as I was saying, how am I ever supposed to get a boyfriend when I am destined to be a permanent freak? I had my braces removed on Tuesday and on Wednesday pigged out on these Devonshire clotted cream fudges that Belinda's auntie sent us for Christmas. I mean with braces on they were a total no-no but now that I'm a brace-free zone, I was all `bring it on!' And talk about delish! I had about four pieces! I was going round smiling at everyone - Ok, so I know I'm still a bit battered and bruised around the eyes and mouth from the unfortunate trampoline incident, but (and I don't mean to sound conceited) I was getting one or two promising smiles back - especially from boys.



Then yesterday in science, Mr Mukerjee was writing on the board and it was all out of focus. The boards in the Science block are pretty rubbish because the pens don't work most of the time and you only get half the writing up there and have to guess at the rest of it, so I didn't think anything of it. Except when I went for end of day registration, there was a letter for Dad - saying that my busy-body science teacher had concerns for my eyesight - cheek!

So Belinda took me to see Mr Gentry in the High Street and he says I'm short-sighted. And apparently, I'm not allowed lenses yet! This is my worst nightmare
I'VE GOT TO HAVE GLASSES!

I can't believe it. I've gone from a metal-mouth to a four-eyes in two days. My friends are ringing up and saying; `Glasses are sexy' (Yeah, right - say those who don't wear them!) and `Harry Potter's really cool and he wears glasses' (Durr! Harry Potter's in a BOOK!) and `Boys always make passses at girls who wear glasses.' (Er - slight alteration of never to always, I think!)

Daniel was knocking on my French window but I wouldn't answer.

My life just isn't worth living any more! Think I need some more fudge.

On the good side...

OK, so all the boys in my tutor group are telling me that my face looks like I've gone ten rounds with Ricky Hatton. Like I'd know he is! I'm assuming he must be some boxer or something but I am soooooooo anti-blood sports - which means, come to think of it, that trampolining needs to be added to my list of physical activities to be avoided.

As a rsult of my unfortunate (and mortifyingly humiliating) encounter with the aforementioned health and safety death-trap, I've got two black eyes, a sprained wrist and my mouth looks as though I've been snogging a barbed wire fence! It's worse than when Spud and I got lip-locked at the Youth Centre Hallowe'en party.

But, on the good side - Mrs Monroe (my unfriendly, neighbourhood sadist - aka my orthodontist) says that my braces can come off! Yay! Mind you the springs of the trampoline managed to knock half of the rail-tracks off anyway, but imagine that - after eighteen months of mouth-al torture, I'll be free to eat and drink all sorts of fabulous stuff again.

You see, every cloud really does have a silver lining - or in my case a metal lining.

I think I might have to give up on the whole Tyrone Pearman thing though - he was not nice at all when I was stuck in the trampoline. On the other hand, Marc Briggs was really sweet to me - and there was sparkage - defo! I'll give my face a couple of weeks to go down and then I'll give Marc a call. Ooooooo I can't wait.

Trampoline trauma

Did I choose PE as one of my options? No!
Did I ever show any interest in PE? No!
So why am I STILL expected to do it?

The Rhino (aka Miss Crumm, our rhinoceros of a PE teacher) announced that it was too cold to go outside (which must be a first since I've been at our school, but I wasn't arguing) and we were all `Yay! Let's play hangman, like we used to in Year 7! Hangman! Hangman!' Hangman!' But the great grey mass decreed that we would double up with the boys in the gym instead!

Now, although that sounds like a cool idea - have you ever seen our school's PE knickers? I mean gross isn't the word - even my gran doesn't wear things that big. They look like something you'd wrap a baby elephant in - and some! At least when we go outside we can wear tracksuits so that the boys can't see us in our belly-warmers. Actually, they're not even belly-warmers - they're more like boob-to-knee-warmers!

So the idea of going into the gym with the boys looking about as sexy as a sack of spuds was not my idea of fun. Even worse, we're timetabled with the Options group E, which includes: Daniel, Magnus, Spud - and Tyrone Pearman! Could my day get any worse?

Well, yes, actually, it could! Because when Mr Snowdon was demonstrating the front drop on the trampoline, Spud was getting very excited at the prospect of spotting for me - so excited, in fact, that he almost completely destroyed the padding round the end where he was standing. He'd managed to pick off half the vinyl and a significant part of the foam too so that all the springs were showing.

Anyway, it was my turn and, I must admit, I wasn't a hundred per cent on board with the whole front drop thing. It looked a bit painful if you asked me, but I thought working with Mr Snowdon was a gazillion times better than doing badminton with the Rhino. So, there I was, going amazingly high. In fact, I could see where the shuttlecock had got lodged in the light fitting, I was so high. Then I did just what Mr Snowdon had said; I put my hands in front of my boobs with my elbows out to the side and lifted my legs.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy - I don't know what I'd been so worried about. Until...
`Tyrone Pearman! Get down from there!' the Rhino boomed.

I looked over to see that Tyrone had climbed up the wall bars and was standing astride the top one, preparing to leap across to the ropes. Wow - he looked so gorgeous and manly - like something out of Pirates of the Carribean. But then - wwwwaaaaaagh! I lost my balance and, instead of landing on my tummy, I landed on my knees (which really hurt without a tracksuit or anything with legs in them to offer protection) then went flying forwards.

Spud was all; `Oh yes, come to me, my darling Magenta.'

As if! My legs went up in the air and I put my arms out to stop myself landing on top of Spud, but I misjudged it and somehow both my arms AND MY HEAD ended up wedged through the springs of the trampoline. And even worse - my bum was left sticking up in the air with my stupid big knickers on show for half the year group to gawp at.

Mortified doesn't even come close!