Geek Girl Quotes

My idea of a fun night was diving into a massive pile of To Be Read pile of books stacked near my dresser... I was the girl who loved everything geeky.

Nobody hopped into a wardrobe to find Narnia; they hopped in, thinking it was just a wardrobe. They didn't climb up the Faraway Tree, knowing it was a Faraway Tree; they thought it was just a really big tree. Harry Potter thought he was a normal boy; Mary Poppins was supposed to be a regular nanny. It's the first and only rule. Magic comes when you're not looking for it.

I didn't need to transform after all. My name is Harriet Manners and I am a geek. And maybe that's not so bad after all.

Trev, all you had to do was breathe to make me want you.

Because here's the thing about a book: when you pick up a story, you put down your own

You need to stop caring what people who don't matter think of you. Be who you are and let everybody else be who they are. Differences are a good thing.

I am not going to get into it myself, except to say (1) if I am writing "boy fiction," who are all those boys with breasts who keep turning up by the hundreds at my signings and readings? and (2) thank you, geek girls! I love you all.

Nobody really metamorphoses. Cinderella is always Cinderella, just in a nicer dress. The Ugly Duckling was always a swan, just a smaller version. And I bet the tadpole and the caterpillar still feel the same, even when they're jumping and flying, swimming and floating. Just like I am now.

To the girl who hid in the shadows and tried to body-shame me, I’m sorry you thought that was a good use of your time and energy. I hope you find happiness within yourself. You deserve that. We all do.

Your daughter is adorable. I've never seen such an alien duck in my entire life.

1. You left a multipack of Mars Bars on top of your wardrobe. Can I have one? Dad x 2. I had three. Hope that's OK. Dad x 3. I'm just going to have one more. Dad x 4. Harriet, your Dad's made himself sick on an entire multipack of Mars Bars again. Please don't leave sweets where we can find them. A x

She's....having an affair with a strawberry jam manufacturer?

The internet lied to me?

Oh." Dad frowns. "Why hasn't Annabel been teaching you how to walk in heels? I thought we had an agreement: I teach you how to be cool and she trains you how to be a girl." I stare at him in silence. This explains so much.

Have you been sniffing glitter again?

Genius or jock, it didn't seem to matter. Boys were born with a gene that kept girls, no matter how smart they might be, from understanding them.

Never underestimate the power of a well-placed apostrophe.

That's the truth about people with obsessively organised plans: we're not trying to control everything in our lives. We're trying to block out the things we can't.

...Our stories are drive by who we are and what we do, and not by the events that happens to us.

Tortoises are incredible creatures," Dad says earnestly. "What they lack in elegance and beauty they more than make up for in the ability to curl up and defend themselves from predators." "What, like me?

She sighed. Loudly. "Physical appearance is not what is important." Yeah right. Tell that to any girl who hasn't bothered to put on a presentable shirt or fix her hair because she's only running into the grocery store to get a quart of milk for her grandmother, and who does she see tending the 7-ITEMS-OR-LESS cash register but the guy of her dreams, except she can't even say hi—much less try to develop a meaningful relationship—since she looks like the poster child for the terminally geeky.

Dream Your World. Be Your World. Flaunt Your World.

I suddenly realise that it doesn't matter how far I go, or how lost I am, or how lonely I feel. I fit in here. I always will. That's how I know I'm home.

Being a fangirl is the best thing that's ever happened to me. ...We know what we're into, we love hard, and we're okay with it.

Nick? Any idea?" Nick coughs too. "Nope. No idea at all." Wilbur gives him a stern look. "So what was the point in doing all the Jane Austen stuff if she doesn't know about it, Poodle-bottom?

We know what we’re into, we love hard, and we’re okay with it. But we don’t have it easy.

And girls do want boys who are interesting. Girls want the shy geeks who know everything and have big hands and good teeth and say sweet things.

We don't have time for all this adorable Darcy and Lizzie tension, Kitten-cheeks.

Trev--"I heard you were going to go out with him and I burned with jealousy. No, burning isn't the right word. I was more like an inferno. So I followed you....." "You're as pathetic as I am," I gasped out. "Worse," he qualifies. "I'm a pathetic geek." I snuggle back in to him "Yeah, well so am I.

He grins as he straightens and walks toward me, the grin that brings out the dimples and nearly takes my knees out. I'm such a marshmallow.

Our future selves are only as good as our past selves believe we can be

It's 4:40am and i'm standing in the middle of a Quentin Tarantino version of Finding Nemo

A girl needs options. To me, video games are like shoes. But with more pixels and a plot.

Besides, there's no one way to be a girl, Tay. You don't need to fit yourself into what society tells us a girl should be. Girls can be whoever they want. Whether that's an ass-kicking, sarcastic, crime-solving FBI Agent or a funny, gorgeous, witty beauty queen--or both at the same time." She swings an arm around me and pulls me in. "Are you happy the way you are? Are you comfortable? Do you feel like yourself?" The corner of my mouth lifts into a half smile. "Yes. Yes. And yes." "Then that's all that matters. Fuck everything else.

If I tell you, you'll panic." "I won't." "You will. You'll panic, and then I'll panic, and then you'll panic again, and she'll be able to tell we're weak and she'll eat both of us.

Gary nips my finger and starts clawing his way up my shoulder, hissing like an angry kettle. It's just not natural for something so cute and fluffy to be so nasty. I look at Nick in distress. "Why is he spitting at me?" "Maybe he thinks he's a llama.

Book clubs are totally dope - like English class if you were allowed to read only books that you actually like and snack and sip while discussing them.

Why are you such terrible parents?" I yell. "I don't know," Dad yells back. "Why are you such a naughty little spider?

Jen--"I am sorry that I hurt you. I don't have the words to tell you how sorry I am about that."..."I would do anything to take that part away. I would do anything to change the hurt I know I caused you. But I can't be sorry about making the bet with Ella and Beth because if I hadn't done that, I would never have gotten to know you.

My impact on hearts is like an earthquake happening on the other side of the world: if I'm lucky, I can hope for a teacup tinkling in its saucer. And even then it's a bit of a surprise and everybody talks about it afterward.

Who knew that you would be The One," I smile, "which I guess makes me your Trinity." "My Amidala." "Your Zira." "My Sylvia." "Your..." I scour my brain, trying to remember some other great sci-fi love interest. "Ha! I'm your Saphira," I settle back smugly, only for Trevor to start laughing. "Saphira is a dragon.

Trevor : “Who says that you’re not good?” He sounds a little angry. “Who says that, Jen? Kyle? Beth? Ella? Your mother? You? Who gave any of you the right to decide who’s good and who’s not?

She's probably so mesmerized by her own beauty she can't move away from the mirror," I hear Wilbur stage-whisper. "It's why I'm always late." Then he knocks on the door as well. "Look away from the reflection, baby," he shouts through the wood. "Just look away and the spell will be broken.

Well?" Nat says after a few seconds. "I'm surprised you're here again, Harriet. I thought you'd be busy auditioning for A Midsummer Night's Dream." I blink a few times in surprise. "No. I'm not." "You should be. I heard they're looking for an ass." Oh. Now why can't I think of quips like that when I need them?

My name," I tell Wilbur in the most dignified voice I can find, "Was inspired by Harriet Quimby, the first female American pilot and the first woman ever to cross the Channel in an aeroplane. My mother chose it to represent freedom and bravery and independence, and she gave it to me just before she died." There's a short pause while Wilbur looks appropriately moved. Then Dad says, "Who told you that?" "Annabel did." "Well, it's not true at all. You were named after Harriet the tortoise, the second longest living tortoise in the world." There's a silence while I stare at Dad and Annabel puts her head in her hands so abruptly that the pen starts to leak into her collar. "Richard," she moans quietly. "A tortoise?" I repeat in dismay. "I'm named after a tortoise? What the hell is a tortoise supposed to represent?" "Longevity?

There are 7,123,024,873 people in the world, and nick keeps choosing me

Me. The geek girl from the suburbs of Melbourne. The youngest daughter of Chinese immigrants. The only openly bi kid at school. The drama freak who makes vlogs in her bedroom. I'm the hero.

Final Girl is film-geek speak for the last woman standing at the end of a horror movie.

Was that girl ever not in diva mode?

If I've learned anything in my seventeen years, it's that life isn't easy all the time. Parents get divorced, guinea pigs explode under your watch, and you can't get up the guts to talk to a girl you have a crush on.

You know, I've worked out that if I lived on Mercury I'd be sixty-six years old tomorrow. I'd be twenty-six on Venus, and half a year old on Saturn. I'm only sixteen because I'm on this planet.

No, I don't party; no, I don't dress in black leather and chains; that's not my style. That's how I was raised. I worry about getting good grades and I go to church and I watch sci-fi movies and I generally follow the rules. Most people would call me a geek or a nerd. You've called me that many times. But that isn't everything that defines me. I mean, look at me, sitting here in a rainstorm under a tree that's probably going to kill us when the lightning hits it, holding the hand of a pretty cool girl who really is the opposite of me, a girl that I happen to be in love with. A girl I couldn't have imagined would want to be with me. But here she is, letting me hold her hand, trying to tell me why she isn't good enough for me. That's crazy.

The funny thing about brains is that they never freaking shut up.

He was quiet for a moment. “So, in this analogy, you’re Mary Jane?” “You got that right, Tiger.

Some girls had their heads in the clouds. My head was somewhere on the other side of the galaxy.

Apparently humans share fifty per cent of their DNA with bananas. My father is a constant reminder of that.

Whatever you want to do—start now. No one needs to give you permission. No one needs to invite you to the table. Just

Do you want every human everywhere—regardless of gender, race, class, sexuality, or fandom—to have the same rights? Then congrats: you are a feminist. Huzzah!

The way I see it, everyone's a Geek of some sort. Football, films, music - it doesn't matter what the interest is; if you're fascinated by it, then you're a Geek. Simple as that.

That's the beauty of the summer holidays. It's as if life is just a big Etch-a-Sketch, and once a year you get to shake it vigorously up and down and start again.

This isn’t going to work,” Justine murmured. “It is going to work,” I told her, keeping my tone confident. “We’ll breeze right in. The Rack will be with us.” Justine glanced at me with an arched eyebrow. “The Rack?” “The Rack is more than just boobs, Justine,” I told her soberly. “It’s an energy field created by all living boobs. It surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together.

Dreams, stories, art- they were, and are, instruments of divine intervention that molded you into a woman who dwells in possibility: who now feels herself serene with comfort and strength.

what are you doing here?" "Obviously I'm doing laundry, Harriet." I raise my eyebrow. He looks completely at ease with this terrible excuse, which - considering the fact that he has no laundry with him - is a little worrying.

I came to get you. I knew you'd freak out." "But..." My head still feels like a helium balloon. "Why?" Nick looks blank. "Because you always freak out." I shake my head. My voice feels like I've swallowed it. "I mean, why do you care if I freak out?" There's a long silence. "Well," Wilbur finally bursts, "I can take a shot in the dark, if you want." "Seriously," Nick snaps, making his fingers into a gun shape. "I'm going to take a shot in the dark in a minute and it will make contact." Wilbur looks charmed. "Isn't he adorable?" he says fondly. "My duty as Fairy Godmother is complete, anyhoo, and I believe it's time to spread my magic dust elsewhere. So many pumpkins after all; so little time.

Superfast beings shouldn't piss off the comics geek-girl.

Scientist say that music can change the speed of a heartbeat. They failed to add: so can a text message.

The saddest thing I have ever experienced is watching a fellow nerd I've known forever and befriended, trying to unnerdify themselves. It was painful because that great geeky personality I loved so much is hidden behind a plaster of trends, and he may end up with a girl who will never understand him.

They say fiction is the closest well ever get from magic. Open a book and an entire world will pop out and it doesn't matter if it's dragons or Victorian children or wizards. You are immediately someone else and somewhere else

fiction, no matter the form, allows you to live a thousand meaningful experiences and relationships that you could never have in real life. Getting invested in a fictional world means you have a wonderful imagination, a big heart, and the capacity for endless creativity. No one can say anything bad about that.

The rest of my Thursday can be summarised thus: - Nat tells me to bite her. - I don't. - I am forced to sit next to Toby for the entire two-and-a-half-hour return coach journey. - He tells me that water is not blue because it reflects the sky, but actually because the molecular structure of the water itself reflects the colour blue and therefore our art teacher is wrong and the authorities should be alerted. - I pull my jumper over my head. - I stay under my jumper for the next two hours.

We don't unfold ourselves like pieces of paper for everyone to see: that's not how humans work. There are always parts of us we shut away or hide. Bits of ourselves we can't touch because they're too precious and buried too deep. Fragments of truth we barely admit to ourselves. Because sometimes editing our own story is the only way to get through it.

Shut up, logical side. I have no time for you.

I can curl my hair and paint my nails and wear my hand-sewn summer dresses. I can roll dice and design costumes for heroes and flip through comic books. All as myself. Finally.

People like their high-fashion models to look as deeply unhappy as physically possible You can't have beauty and contentment: it would just be unfair.

The sad fact is, there are 7.220.400.641 people on the planet, but right now I haven't got a single one to talk to.

Alan shrugged. “I love the CBC, really, but being voted its president—” “Co-president,” Sputnik corrected. “—is kind of like being declared King of Nerds.” “Co-king,” Sputnik asserted.

The roses started him thinking, how the oddity of them was beautiful and how that oddity was contrived to give them value. “It just struck me – clear and complete all at once – no long figuring about it.” He realized that children could be designed. “And I thought to myself, now that would a rose garden worthy of a man’s interest.” We children would smile and hug him and he would grin around at us and send the twins for a pot of cocoa from the drink wagon and me for a bag of popcorn because the red-haired girls would just throw it out when they finished closing the concession anyway. And we would all be cozy in the warm booth of the van, eating popcorn and drinking cocoa and feeling like Papa’s roses.

This might surprise you, but here's a fact: people who plan things thoroughly aren't particularly connected with reality. It seems like they are, but they're not: they're focusing on making things bite-size, instead of having to look at the whole picture. It's procrastination in its purest form because it convinces everyone—including the person who's doing it—that they are very sensible and in touch with reality when they're not. They're obsessed with cutting it up into little pieces so they can pretend it's not there at all.

Did you know that the chances of being in a plane crash are less than 0.00001 per cent? That means that you’re more likely to be killed by a donkey or to naturally conceive identical quadruplets.” Bunty

You’re not a true fan if you only like the Marvel movies; you can’t be in the anime community unless you speak fluent Japanese; you’re not allowed to dress up as Ms. Marvel unless you’ve read every Ms. Marvel comic, ever.

Yeah, I guess I do.” My heart plummets again. “Or I did. Maybe I still do. I don’t know. But I didn’t bring her to the dance. I brought you. It seems I spend all my time with you.” “Why is that?” I’m genuinely curious but aware that I could be opening a door I don’t want opened. I quickly rephrase. “I mean, why do you want to?” He looks thoughtful. “You’re funny,” he finally says. “I laugh a lot when I’m with you. I always have fun when I’m with you. And you try to hide it, but you’re actually pretty sweet.” “That’s a horrible thing to say,” I say petulantly, crossing my arms tightly again. He chuckles. “And you’re really smart.” “Now I know you’re lying.” “You are. But you try to hide that as well. And you’re pretty.” “Worse and worse,” I moan. He grins. “And when I’m with you, I don’t want to be anywhere else or with anyone else.

Okay, yes, I am a bit of a geek. I enjoy escapist entertainment. Listen, I’d rather watch a bunch of elves and wizards trying to save Middle Earth from the forces of evil than, I dunno, the Bachelorette or the Real Housewives of wherever getting their butt fat injected into their lips.

Does a caterpillar sit on the same leaf when it's a butterfly? No! It goes for a little fly and sees something of the world. Does the tadpole stay in the same pond once it's a frog? No! It stretches its legs, goes for a jump, explores other waters. Did Cinderella go back cleaning hearths once she married the prince? ... Transformation means moving forward. If a butterfly stays on the same leaf and a frog stays in the same pond, then they may as well have stayed a caterpillar or a tadpole. There was no point in metamorphosing.

Amazing? My heart fluttered. “But I don’t want Flash or Harry,” I murmured. “You want Spider-Man,” he finished for me, looking a little wistful. I shrugged. “And Peter Parker.” He looked at me, very seriously. “Then don’t settle,” he said.

Women are becoming the driving force behind geek culture, and we shouldn’t be relegated to the sidelines.

Anyone who shows up for a midnight opening-night screening of the latest, shiniest geek flick must be a diehard nerd. I mean, you'd have to be a killer-huge fan to wait in line for hours for the newest Star Wars or Marvel Universe film, right?

He pinned me in place with a direct look, his dark brown eyes smoldering. “You’re Mary Jane,” he said finally. “And you have all these Flash Thompsons and Harry Osborns hovering around you, trying to make a move. Because...you’re basically amazing.

There's a humpback whale in the ocean that sings at fifty-two hertz: too low for any other whale to hear. Scientists aren't sure if it's a genetic anomaly, or a sole survivor of an extinct species, or just a whale who accidentally learnt the wrong song. They just know that it's probably the loneliest mammal on earth.

I think I’m getting a notion of how to do this. O.K., a carnival works because people pay to feel amazed and scared. They can nibble around a midway getting amazed here and scared there, or both. And do you know what else? Hope. Hope they’ll win a prize, break the jackpot, meet a girl, hit a bull’s-eye in front of their buddies. In a carnival you call it luck or chance, but it’s the same as hope. Now hope is a good feeling that needs risk to work. How good it is depends on how big the risk is if what you hope doesn’t happen. You hope your old auntie croaks and leaves you a carload of shekels, but she might leave them to her cat. You might not hit the target or win the stuffed dog, you might lose your money and look like a fool. You don’t get the surge without the risk. Well. Religion works the same way. The only difference is that it’s more amazing than even Chick or the twins. And it’s a whole lot scarier than the Roll-a-plane or the Screamer, or any simp twister. This scare stuff laps over into the hope department too. The hope you get from religion is a three-ring, all-star hope because the risk is outrageous. Bad! Well, I’m working on it. I’ve got the amazing part down. And the scary bits are a snap. But I’ve got to come up with a hope.

Don't you get it yet,Harriet?" Nick says in total exasperation. "i like that you know about the stars in the rain and the shapes of the clouds and the heartbeat rate of the hummingbird. I like that you know that giraffes don't have vocal cords and the sharks can't stop moving. I like the way you stick your little nose in the air.....

We were there too, the other geeks and weird kids whose lives were hellish at school, who escaped into books and computers, who stayed up all night scanning obscure forums, looking for transcendence, dreaming of elsewhere. We were there too, but you didn’t see us, because we were girls. And the costs of being the geek were the same for us, right down to the sexual frustration, the yearning, the being laughed at, the loneliness. […] We had to fight the same battles you did, only harder, because we were women and we also had to fight sexism, some of it from you, and when we went looking for other weird kids to join our gang, we were told we weren’t ‘real geeks’ because we were girls.

Mr Bott sits down and gestures gracefully to the board. "As you are clearly both fascinated by this text, would you like to explain the significance of Laertes in Hamlet?" He looks at Alexa. "Please go first, Miss Roberts." "Well..." Alexa says hesitantly. "He's Ophelia's brother, right?" "I didn't ask for his family tree, Alexa. I want to know his literary significance as a fictional character." Alexa looks uncomfortable. "Well then, his literary significance is in being Ophelia's brother, isn't it? So she has someone to hang out with." "How very kind of Shakespeare to give fictional Ophelia a fictional playmate so that she doesn't get fictionally bored. Your analytical skills astound me, Alexa. Perhaps I should send you to Set Seven with Mrs White and you can spend the rest of the lesson studying Thomas the Tank Engine. I believe he has lots of buddies too.

Believe me, if Archimedes ever had the grand entrance of a girl as pretty as Gloria to look forward to, he would never have spent so much time calculating the value of Pi. He would have been baking her a Pie! If Euclid had ever beheld a vision of loveliness like the one I see walking into my anti-math class, he would have forgotten all the geometry of lines and planes, and concentrated on the sweet simplicity of soft curves. If Pythagoras had ever had a girl look at him the way Gloria's eyes fix in my direction, he would have given up his calculations on the hypotenuse of right triangles and run for the hills to pick a bouquet of wildflowers.

Rhiannon Anna Maria Reyes, (Strength 10, Dexterity 14, Stamina 12, Will 17, IQ 16 and Charisma 15 -- Geek 7 / Barista 3 / Screenwriter 2 / Gamer Girl 2) was Bryan’s secret weapon. Rhiannon (known to practically everyone as “Ree”) kept the café in fabulous baked goods, talked authoritatively about subjects from Aliens to Zork, and drew the attentions of countless lovelorn geeks.

It’s going to work.” “Classic,” Roarke said. “What’s going to work? What’s classic? I want my jacket.” “Forget it. You’re going to walk right up to Milo the Mole’s front door, and he’s going to answer.” “I am? He is?” “Damsel in distress, right?” Eve said to Roarke. “A very alluring damsel. Clever, Lieutenant.” “Oh, okay. I get it. I look like I’m in trouble—all alone, unarmed. Harmless. Girl. He opens up to find out what’s what. You should do it,” Peabody told Eve. “You’re the one with the tits. Men are stupid for tits.” “Harsh,” Roarke observed. “But largely true.” “Plus, you’re the type, obviously, who appeals to skinny geeks.” “Oh yeah,” McNab confirmed. “Completely.

Czar Nicholas the Second was overthrown by Lenin in 1917." I blink in surprise. "Yes," I say, "he was." "And do you think I want to know that? IT's not even on your exam syllabus. I never had to know that. So now it's your turn to pick up a few pairs of shoes and make ooh and aah sounds for me becuase Jo ate prawns and she's allergic and she got sick and couldn't come and I'm not sitting on a bus on my own for five hours, OK?" Nat takes a deep breath and I look at my hands in shame. I am a selfish, selfish person. I am also a very sparkly person; my hands are covered in gold glitter.

Listen to Your Lover (Or Babe, Sweetie Cakes, Hot Rod, Honey, Dancing Queen, Dairy Queen, etc.) If she tells you she likes it when you bite her neck—do it! It doesn’t matter where she learned that she likes it or why she does, just be thankful you got the tip. Girls don’t always express what they want, so when she does say it, you really want to make sure you are paying attention. Also, learn her language (unless it is Mandarin, because that shit is impossible). If you start pulling her hair and she starts moaning, that’s her way of saying, “Ohmygod, please do this more, and by more I mean all the time.” And the more you please her, the more she’ll want to do it with you. It’s a win-win!

Polarization is just one of many ways group membership can change an individual. Perhaps the most striking effect of group membership is that it can modify individuals’ perceptions of themselves. Unable to separate their personal introspection from the ways they believe other people perceive them, teenagers may have what psychologists call an “imaginary audience,” meaning they believe that other people are just as attuned to their appearance and behavior as they are (cue any pimple cream commercial). These perceptions can affect various aspects of their lives. For example, psychologists found that when Asian girls were subtly reminded about their Asian identity, they performed better on math tests. When they were subtly reminded about their gender, however, they performed worse.

Writing is hard. Writing that is good, writing that is powerful enough to evoke a change or an authentic emotion or even just an idea in another human being is about as mysterious as an alchemical recipe, but there are a few known ingredients. Craft? Yes, absolutely. Devotion? A load - yes! Humility? Not vital, I suppose, but all my favorites include at least a dash. Before those can be added to the cauldron though, you must have a base of Honesty. Honesty is difficult to find in public spaces these days (and getting harder every goddamn day) but if you're quiet, and patient, you can usually find some hidden in your room somewhere. (It helps to turn off the lights, for some reason.) Problem is, Honesty is invariably bound to Vulnerability and the only thing that cuts the bitterness of Vulnerability is Courage. And Courage? Well. Courage is the hardest thing of all.

Nick grinned, swooping in for another kiss and then leaning back and scruffing his hair up. “Harriet Manners, I’m about to give you six stamps. Then I’m going to write something on a piece of paper and put it in an envelope with your address on it.” “OK …” “Then I’m going to put the envelope on the floor and spin us as fast as I can. As soon as either of us manage to stick a stamp on it, I’m going to race to the postbox and post it unless you can catch me first. If you win, you can read it.” Nick was obviously faster than me, but he didn’t know where the nearest postbox was. “Deal,” I agreed, yawning and rubbing my eyes. “But why six stamps?” “Just wait and see.” A few seconds later, I understood. As we spun in circles with our hands stretched out, one of my stamps got stuck to the ground at least a metre away from the envelope. Another ended up on a daisy. A third somehow got stuck to the roundabout. One of Nick’s ended up on his nose. And every time we both missed, we laughed harder and harder and our kisses got dizzier and dizzier until the whole world was a giggling, kissing, spinning blur. Finally, when we both had one stamp left, I stopped giggling. I had to win this. So I swallowed, wiped my eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then I reached out my hand. “Too late!” Nick yelled as I opened my eyes again. “Got it, Manners!” And he jumped off the still-spinning roundabout with the envelope held high over his head. So I promptly leapt off too. Straight into a bush. Thanks to a destabilised vestibular system – which is the upper portion of the inner ear – the ground wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Nick, in the meantime, had ended up flat on his back on the grass next to me. With a small shout I leant down and kissed him hard on the lips. “HA!” I shouted, grabbing the envelope off him and trying to rip it open. “I don’t think so,” he grinned, jumping up and wrapping one arm round my waist while he retrieved it again. Then he started running in a zigzag towards the postbox. A few seconds later, I wobbled after him. And we stumbled wonkily down the road, giggling and pulling at each other’s T-shirts and hanging on to tree trunks and kissing as we each fought for the prize. Finally, he picked me up and, without any effort, popped me on top of a high wall. Like Humpty Dumpty. Or some kind of really unathletic cat. “Hey!” I shouted as he whipped the envelope out of my hands and started sprinting towards the postbox at the bottom of the road. “That’s not fair!” “Course it is,” he shouted back. “All’s fair in love and war.” And Nick kissed the envelope then put it in the postbox with a flourish. I had to wait three days. Three days of lingering by the front door. Three days of lifting up the doormat, just in case it had accidentally slipped under there. Finally, the letter arrived: crumpled and stained with grass. Ha. Told you I was faster. LBxx