Planet Janet in Orbit (7 page)

Nan rang tonight, wanting to know what I thought of Buskin’ Bob. I said he’s all right. Nan likes him. She said he seemed like a man of principles. I said if he had any more principles I reckon he’d have us living in a tree.

The MC wanted to know why I wasn’t going to work again today. I said because I didn’t feel that the pittance I earned being a servant justified the gruelling labour and constant humiliation. She said, “You mean you were fired.” I said, “Actually, I quit.” I said I felt the Dorito Bandito was hostile and vindictive towards me because I have
NORMAL-SIZED
breasts. She said, “What about that boy?” I said, “What boy?” She said, “What was his name? Eden? Elijah? Evan?” (Can you believe it? Jocelyn Bandry, who
NEVER LISTENS TO A WORD I SAY
, remembers some passing mention of Ethan I once made!) I said I didn’t know what she was on about. She said she had the impression from the fact that I never stopped talking about him that I fancied him. I asked if she ever got tired of jumping to the wrong conclusion.

Hung out with Disha a bit tonight (since she’s
ALWAYS BUSY
in the day either seeing Ethan or waiting to find out if she’s going to see him). More insights into his perfectness. (I even got a
detailed
description of what it’s like to
KISS
him! Apparently it’s like kissing a chocolate mousse. I said I hadn’t realized she’d spent so much time kissing puddings.) I’m v happy for D and I’ve completely lost the little interest I had in Ethan, but to be honest it really is exhaustingly boring. I mean he’s just a lad – it isn’t the Second Coming. I’d rather listen to Robert bang on about the
evil
of the pharmaceutical companies (which
IS NOT
one of his shorter lectures) than hear one more thing Ethan said about anything. Flynn phoned to say he knew somebody who was having a barbecue, but Disha didn’t want to go in case Ethan got a chance to ring her from the toilet at work. I know I could’ve lent her the mobe but I don’t see why
I
should pay for her to tell him how much she misses him because she hasn’t seen him in six hours. I didn’t want to go to the barbecue without D, since the only person I’d know would be Flynn and I reckoned he’d be off with the other boys playing video games or something. But I didn’t want to sit round the house with the MC and Buskin’ Bob either, so I forced myself to go. Flynn wanted to know if Disha was ill or something, since it’s rare to see me without her. This isn’t true, of course. I go plenty of places without Disha. Flynn said yeah, but they’re all toilets. After the barbecue (which didn’t actually feature anything
COOKED
because no one could get the fire going in the rain), we ended up playing Pictionary. I was partners with Flynn. You’d have to be psychic to guess any of his words. One of his drawings looked like a pyramid. I tried pyramid, but that wasn’t it. It wasn’t a triangle, a tepee or Mount Everest either. He drew what looked like a head peering over it. I tried Egyptians and Aztecs. I tried blood sacrifice and religion. I tried Peeping Tom. It was a cheese-grater (the head was a biscuit!). After that, I prayed for All Plays so at least I could look at someone else’s drawings. We were all laughing so much it took hours. I said to Flynn that I haven’t laughed so much for
WEEKS
. Flynn said I should hang out with him more, especially now that Disha and I have had the operation and been separated.

Since I’m unemployed, the MC made me do the food shopping with her. (First she made me help her put the mountain of bottles in the car so they don’t fall all over the place every time you go near the fridge!) We set off with the bottles rattling round in the boot but we didn’t go to the superstore as per usual (where they have a bottle bank!) – we went to the street market (where they don’t have a bottle bank, of course!). It was like stepping back in time, all sweat and rotting vegetables. I said, “Don’t tell me you’re boycotting supermarkets too.” She said, “Yes. The big chains are squeezing out the small, local shops and farmers.” I said well, that was
PROGRESS
, wasn’t it? We don’t make our own soap any more either (
NOT YET AT ANY RATE
!!!). She said
and
their business methods leave something to be desired. I said I didn’t think they sold diet meals in the market and the MC said she isn’t buying them any more because Robert doesn’t like the company that makes them either. Also, real food doesn’t make you fat. At this rate we’re going to be growing our own vegetables in the back garden and brushing our teeth with sand.

Nearly had a heart attack at supper tonight. There was a
SLUG
in my salad! Buskin’ Bob said that proved the vegetables we bought at the market were organic and not grown in a hothouse on chemicals. (Well,
THANK GOD FOR THAT
!) The MC said that maybe from now on when she asks me to wash the lettuce I’ll do more than just wave it towards the tap. Was still recovering from this when the MC asked how I’d like to go away for a week before school starts. For one insane moment I forgot who I am, who I’m related to and how God treats me. I was suffused with
Joy
! I said of course I wanted to go away. Hadn’t I worked my fingers to the bone and my feet to wood pulp all summer? Didn’t I deserve a break? I
LONGED
to leave the stresses of the city behind for even a few short days and really relax and enjoy the long hours of sun! I asked where we were going. The beaches of Greece? The mountains of Spain? The olive groves of Italy? The theme parks of America? The answer is:
none of the above
. The answer is: the isolated Wilds of Wales. Robert’s got a cottage (of course – he probably built it himself from wood he found in skips!). The MC banged on about the cottage and how Robert was bringing Marcella and Lucrezia because they really love getting into the country (I didn’t know he had dogs. I’m
ASTOUNDED
he hasn’t brought them round – he brings eveything else he owns here!), but I wasn’t really listening. I was too
DEVASTATED
. I said of course, my going did depend on whether or not I got another job. (I reckon I can get
SOMETHING
even if it only lasts long enough for me to wave them goodbye.) The MC said if I get a job I can stay with Sappho and Mags while she’s away because she doesn’t like me being on my own (she doesn’t say that when she stays out
ALL NIGHT
, does she?). What a choice – nesting lesbians or the Eco Warrior and his lover! Things just get better and better and better, don’t they?

Flynn’s parents went out last night, so he invited everybody round for a Waiting-for-Your-GCSE-Results party. He reckoned it’d be a hoot to order a takeaway from China Gardens. Disha didn’t want to come. I said I thought Ethan was off with his Aussie mates for the day and she said eating pesticide-free food must be improving my memory. She said she just didn’t feel like hanging out. She had a lot to do. I said don’t tell me you’ve got to wash your hair, and she laughed. Had a good time even without female support. David was happy to see us. He said usually he’s greeted with scowls and mutterings about how he must’ve come via Norway. David said that if Flynn wants to make some money to pay his parking ticket, he can get him a job with his dad because they’re short-handed right now. I said didn’t you have to be Chinese to deliver takeaway chow mein and David said Flynn could keep his helmet on.

Have decided to go to Wales after all. I don’t think I could survive a week of talking about nothing but heartburn and natural childbirth (I never thought I’d say this, but oh, how I long for the days when Sappho’s conversation was all about politics and feminism and what a mess men have made of the world!). And, anyway, I haven’t found a job. The MC said I might have better luck if I actually
looked
but I pointed out that unless it’s round here I probably wouldn’t make enough to cover my bus fare. She said I could always be an Avon lady. I said yeah, right. I might as well just end my life now.

Sigmund took me out to supper tonight. He said it was because I’m leaving on Friday and he won’t see me for over seven days, but I’m not fooled. (Not only has he gone
WEEKS
without seeing me, but the last time he took just me out for a meal I was in primary school and we went to McDonald’s.) I reckoned he wanted to chill me out about my impending GCSE results, which I have to admit I found rather touching. It isn’t like Sigmund to be so
Empathetic and Sensitive
. And I was
RIGHT
! It isn’t like him. What he wanted was to pump me for info on Buskin’ Bob (adults always have ulterior motives). To tell you the truth, I feel a bit ambiguous about this (things really aren’t black or white – our minds and hearts are fogged and grey!). On the one hand, Sigmund behaved like a total idiot and pissed everybody off. On the other hand, he is my father – and he doesn’t make you feel like you’re torturing some innocent child every time you put on your trainers. He said Nan had a lot of good things to say about Robert (which is more than she ever has to say about anyone else – esp. Sigmund!). Sigmund said he was
très
sorry about what happened with Mrs Kennedy and all, but he never meant to hurt anyone. [Note to self: Why do people
ALWAYS
says that when the obvious result of their actions is that they hurt someone? It’s like dropping 500 megaton bombs on a city and saying you didn’t mean to kill any civilians!] Sigmund says that now that he’s realized the error of his ways, all he wants is for the Mad Cow to be happy. He should’ve thought of that before too, if you ask me. I said well then, he has nothing to worry about, does he? She’s happy as a pig locked in the greengrocer’s (
ORGANIC
, of course!). He said he had hoped that he and the MC would get back together in time – once he’d given her some space. I said he did science at university; he should know how Nature hates a vacuum. If you leave any space, something will fill it (in this case an Eco Warrior armed with a guitar). I said and anyway, what about his girlfriend? Sigmund wanted to know what girlfriend that would be? The one who doesn’t mind sharing an army cot? I said the one whose earrings were in his bathroom. He said ever since I was little he’s hoped that someday I’d learn to be observant, and now he’s got half his wish. Apparently the earrings belong to the MC. He keeps them to remind him of what he’s lost!!! If he hadn’t looked so serious I would’ve laughed. I mean, really. How much more of a reminder does he need than living in Kilburn?

The papers are full of hair-raising stories of
GCSE Stress and Teenage Suicides
, etc. but I was feeling v laid-back about the whole thing until this morning when I woke up at
3
A.M.
in a panic attack and couldn’t get back to sleep. My predictions were all good, but what if something went horribly wrong (
LIKE IT OFTEN DOES
!)? Would my brilliant future be ruined for ever because mine is a
Creative, Artistic Mind
that has trouble with quadratic equations? Would all my
Hopes and Dreams
be dashed for ever on the rocky shores of French grammar? As you can imagine, the MC was
très
sympathetic as per usual. She said there was no use worrying about it now. Then, seeing that this didn’t exactly
CHEER ME UP
, she said the worst that could happen was I’d have to do some of them again. I said I didn’t want to
DO THEM AGAIN
– it was bad enough having to do them the first time. Went to school with Marcus to collect our results. Once the envelope was in my sweating palms, I couldn’t open it. Marcus couldn’t open his either. So I opened his and he opened mine. Smiles and shrieks of
Teenage Jubilation
all round when we discovered that our young lives hadn’t been blighted for evermore! I nearly kissed him I was that excited!

The MC said I don’t have to bother packing Justin’s mobe as she doesn’t reckon it’d work where we’re going. I said what made her think I had Geek Boy’s mobe and she said call it a wild guess. She spent most of the night phoning the train stations of London trying to get a timetable. The deal is that since Buskin’ Bob has to pick something up in Oxford on his way and the Mini can’t go more than a few miles without something falling off it, we’re going to take a train to the nearest town with a station and he’ll collect us. I said on what, his bike? She said not to be ridiculous. He has a Landrover. I couldn’t’ve been more surprised if she’d said he had a private jet. Disha’s parents have a Landrover and it’s well cool. Am almost beginning to look forward to this holiday, even if I will be out of telecommunication. At last I’ll have some truly private time to take stock of myself before the new school term overwhelms me. After all, a lot has happened in a few short weeks (as in my mother’s having sex and my best friend’s become
Zombie in Love
). And Nature is very conducive to
Thought and Reflection
, isn’t she? Must remember to pack lots of candles and incense to get me in the proper mood for
Thought and Reflection
.

Life really is stressful, isn’t it? Up, down. Up, down. One minute you’re happier than a slug in an organic lettuce patch and the next it’s all
gloom and doom
again. Yesterday the world was my oyster and tonight it’s back to being a pit of tar. Anyway, just to show you how quickly Life can turn on you, I’m writing this
BY CANDLELIGHT
(thank God I brought them, right?)!!! Apparently Buskin’ Bob’s cottage does have electricity but
NOT AT THE MOMENT
. What it also doesn’t
EVER
have is heat, which is unfortunate if you ask me, since although it’s August (a summer month in the rest of Europe!) it’s pissing down and freezing cold. (Oh no, we don’t want to go to Greece, we want to stay in the sodden British Isles!) So not only am I writing by candlelight but I’m wearing two layers of clothes and am wrapped in a blanket as well. I am totally shattered and exhausted and possibly in a state of clinical shock, but I have to tell someone what happened. Since there’s no one round here but sheep (and the MC was right – the mobe doesn’t work!), you’ve been chosen. The train journey was a nightmare, of course. We could’ve got to Greece quicker. We had to wait ages for our connections and half the time they got cancelled!!! It was
DARK
by the time we staggered off the train and into the rain. [Note to self: If privatization is such a brilliant idea, why doesn’t anything work properly any more?] There was only one car in the car park. I said I couldn’t believe Buskin’ Bob wasn’t here, and the MC said of course he was here, what’d I call that? I said that didn’t look anything like Mr Paski’s Landrover and she said that was because Robert’s is a classic (as in the First One Ever Made). I said, “But there are three people inside!” And the MC said of course there were three people inside, Robert had Marcella and Lucrezia with him, didn’t he? They aren’t dogs. Apparently Buskin’ Bob Hotspur has reproduced!!! I asked her why she didn’t tell me Robert was bringing his daughters (or even that he had any!), and she said she did. I said I thought she said Robert was bringing his dogs (I mean, really, who gives their children names that make them sound like bottles of wine?). The MC did her sighing thing. She said Marcella and Lucrezia are the
WHOLE POINT
of the holiday since he doesn’t get to spend as much time with them as he’d like. I said and what am
I
meant to be? The bloody childminder? She said of course not. She reckoned we’d be
COMPANY
for each other. (If you ask me, it’s like putting somebody in jail and saying, “Well, at least you’ve got plenty of people to hang out with.”)