I still haven’t worked out who I want to be or what I want to do when I grow up, so on this blog please join me while I try and work it out!  Find home and fashion inspiration; travel and days out; photography, writing and more. Aiming for slow living whilst trying to cram it all in! Have fun looking around 🙂

 

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Dancing In My Nuddy-pants

'Dancing in my nuddy-pants!' - Confessions of Georgia Nicolson (4)

by Louise Rennison [HarperCollinsChildren'sBooks]
Price: £6.99 -

More confessions of Giargia Nicolson. Written by Louise Rennison. Published by Piccadilly Press.
I haven’t yet read the previous books, (Angus, things and full-frontal snogging; It’s ok I’m wearing really big knickers and Knocked out by my nunga-nungas). Nor the one that comes next (And that’s when it fell off in my hand), but I am going to go straight out and get them. This book was so funny and it totally took me back to my school days – the little things like hitting each other with science overalls and warming your bums up on radiators. It honestly made me pine for my teenhood again.
But the bestest bit about this book is it made me happy. I’m not really a miserable person generally, but I have never before read a book that lifted my spirits quite so much as this one did. I shall always keep a copy near at hand for moments when I’m in the depths of despair, as reading this book would certainly air-lift me out of it again.
If I’m going to go into criticism mode though; I’m sorry, but there were far too many -osities in places; especially at the beginning. E.g. sophisticosity and bottomosity. And amongst all the humourosity which was vair vair amusant, a kind of plot would have been nice. Perhaps a book like that doesn’t really need a plot, but I found myself looking for one when there wasn’t. Like at the beginning I thought there might be some kind of reason why Georgia Nicolson’s friend was so down-hearted; like she’d just discovered she was adopted, or was becoming anorexic because her family couldn’t’ afford food, or she’d caught her Dad with a blow-up doll or something. And occasionally, like during the school trip to France, I actually thought something might happen. But it never did. And a tiny part of me wondered whether the author had reached the end of the amount of words she was supposed to write and thought she’d better go back through it all and add a couple of incidents to lead up to the climax, which I think lasted 5 or 6 lines near the end. And the whole boy situation that was going to happen was obvious from about the first page.
But I suppose all can be forgiven when you’re blessed with such wit and humour. Plots are just boring anyway; right?

Books, Entertainment,
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