was feeling really bubbly and excited. All five of us were.
And then Mrs Weaver had to go and put a total hex on our plans!!!
I know this sounds sad, but I was really relieved when it was time to go back to school. After our decorations come down, the Christmas holidays always seem to run out of steam. Mum and I end up watching daft TV programmes about what to do with those unwanted gifts.
Actually, we could have used some tips on
wanted
gifts. Andy was driving us up the wall with the fancy new digital camcorder Mum got him. Mum complained that she couldn’t sneeze without him recording it on tape! So with one thing and another, I was quite looking forward to getting back to normal school routine.
You’ll never guess what Frankie was talking about when I walked into the classroom. Oh, you guessed!! It turned out her new baby sister still didn’t have a name.
“Isn’t that really bad luck?” I said.
Frankie scowled. “Not nearly such bad luck as those gross names Mum keeps coming up with. I mean,
Angelica
! Perlease!”
“Is your mum a
Rugrats
fan?” giggled Lyndz.
“Well, that’s nothing,” said Frankie dramatically. “Wait till you hear Dad’s top favourite.” She mimed being sick. “EMILY!” she choked.
The five of us went into a collective shudder. Actually, Emily is a really sweet name. Unfortunately, it’s also the name of one of the Sleepover Club’s biggest enemies, Emily Berryman.
She and Emma Hughes go around in this, like,
deadly
duo. For obvious reasons, we call them the M&Ms. They’re always plotting against us.
Just then we had to go into assembly. Every time I looked up, there were the M&Ms, sneaking poisonous little glances at us. They looked exactly like those Siamese cats in
The Lady and the Tramp
!
But after a while I forgot about them. Because 1) Ryan Scott flashed me this really cute smile!! Honestly, he is
such
a dish – and 2) Believe it or not, assembly got really interesting!!!
Mrs Poole had found an old photograph someone had taken of Cuddington villagers at the beginning of the nineteenth century. She’d had a poster-sized blow-up made of it, to show everyone.
Well, OK, if it’s not your village, it probably isn’t that exciting. But there was something dead touching about seeing all those long-ago villagers in some long-ago Leicestershire meadow. I think the photographer must have interrupted them in the middle of a picnic.
You could just make out one of those really old-fashioned jugs, which Mrs Poole said probably held local cider. You could also see part of a checked tablecloth, half a loaf of bread, and a lump of pork pie.
The photographer had arranged everyone in rows. Grown-ups at the back. Kids at the front. All of them had poker-stiff backs and grim expressions. Even the babies looked stern under their little frilly bonnets!
Mrs Poole explained that in those days, hardly anyone owned a camera.
“This is a tremendously big deal for them. It isn’t like some holiday snap you throw away. The photographer is capturing a moment of real history”
I expect you’ve guessed that our headmistress was leading up to a really big announcement. Isn’t it funny how you can tell? It turned out the Parish Council had arranged to have a special millennial photograph taken of today’s Cuddingtonians in our school playground!
“So I hope you’ll all come along on the last Sunday in January to take
your
place in history,” Mrs Poole wound up.
When we got out into the corridor, everyone was buzzing, discussing what we’d wear for the photograph, so future generations would realise how cool we were.
“It’s got to be my Leicester City scarf,” said Kenny promptly.
Lyndz giggled. “Oooh, won’t you be really cold?”
“I’m wearing my silver jacket. No question,” said Frankie. She has this weird thing about silver. I’m surprised she doesn’t wear silver knickers.
“I don’t know what I’ll wear,” moaned Rosie.
Me neither. It dawned on me,
And then Mrs Weaver had to go and put a total hex on our plans!!!
I know this sounds sad, but I was really relieved when it was time to go back to school. After our decorations come down, the Christmas holidays always seem to run out of steam. Mum and I end up watching daft TV programmes about what to do with those unwanted gifts.
Actually, we could have used some tips on
wanted
gifts. Andy was driving us up the wall with the fancy new digital camcorder Mum got him. Mum complained that she couldn’t sneeze without him recording it on tape! So with one thing and another, I was quite looking forward to getting back to normal school routine.
You’ll never guess what Frankie was talking about when I walked into the classroom. Oh, you guessed!! It turned out her new baby sister still didn’t have a name.
“Isn’t that really bad luck?” I said.
Frankie scowled. “Not nearly such bad luck as those gross names Mum keeps coming up with. I mean,
Angelica
! Perlease!”
“Is your mum a
Rugrats
fan?” giggled Lyndz.
“Well, that’s nothing,” said Frankie dramatically. “Wait till you hear Dad’s top favourite.” She mimed being sick. “EMILY!” she choked.
The five of us went into a collective shudder. Actually, Emily is a really sweet name. Unfortunately, it’s also the name of one of the Sleepover Club’s biggest enemies, Emily Berryman.
She and Emma Hughes go around in this, like,
deadly
duo. For obvious reasons, we call them the M&Ms. They’re always plotting against us.
Just then we had to go into assembly. Every time I looked up, there were the M&Ms, sneaking poisonous little glances at us. They looked exactly like those Siamese cats in
The Lady and the Tramp
!
But after a while I forgot about them. Because 1) Ryan Scott flashed me this really cute smile!! Honestly, he is
such
a dish – and 2) Believe it or not, assembly got really interesting!!!
Mrs Poole had found an old photograph someone had taken of Cuddington villagers at the beginning of the nineteenth century. She’d had a poster-sized blow-up made of it, to show everyone.
Well, OK, if it’s not your village, it probably isn’t that exciting. But there was something dead touching about seeing all those long-ago villagers in some long-ago Leicestershire meadow. I think the photographer must have interrupted them in the middle of a picnic.
You could just make out one of those really old-fashioned jugs, which Mrs Poole said probably held local cider. You could also see part of a checked tablecloth, half a loaf of bread, and a lump of pork pie.
The photographer had arranged everyone in rows. Grown-ups at the back. Kids at the front. All of them had poker-stiff backs and grim expressions. Even the babies looked stern under their little frilly bonnets!
Mrs Poole explained that in those days, hardly anyone owned a camera.
“This is a tremendously big deal for them. It isn’t like some holiday snap you throw away. The photographer is capturing a moment of real history”
I expect you’ve guessed that our headmistress was leading up to a really big announcement. Isn’t it funny how you can tell? It turned out the Parish Council had arranged to have a special millennial photograph taken of today’s Cuddingtonians in our school playground!
“So I hope you’ll all come along on the last Sunday in January to take
your
place in history,” Mrs Poole wound up.
When we got out into the corridor, everyone was buzzing, discussing what we’d wear for the photograph, so future generations would realise how cool we were.
“It’s got to be my Leicester City scarf,” said Kenny promptly.
Lyndz giggled. “Oooh, won’t you be really cold?”
“I’m wearing my silver jacket. No question,” said Frankie. She has this weird thing about silver. I’m surprised she doesn’t wear silver knickers.
“I don’t know what I’ll wear,” moaned Rosie.
Me neither. It dawned on me,
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