The Sleepover Club at the Carnival

That just set us all off in fits of giggles. The thought of a punk Mrs Weaver was totally crazy!

“I wouldn’t mind dressing up as a glam rocker,” Frankie said, once we’d all calmed down. “I just want to wear some of these funky boots! Unless one of you two fancy going on the float?”

I shook my head firmly. “I’m not dressing up in stoopid clothes,” I said at once.

“Count me out,” Maria said. “I’d break my neck if I had to wear those things on my feet!”

Simon was quite keen to be Pele, the footballing star of the Seventies, but Maria and Frankie said they thought football was WAY too boring (as if!). In the end, Frankie persuaded him to be a punk by telling him they could dye his hair green with food colouring. “Wicked,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Mum’ll KILL me!”

So that was that – one punk and one glam rocker. This was going to be sooo hilarious!

It was a humungously busy week. We had ‘team meetings’ on Wednesday and Friday morning to discuss our designs and give each other progress reports. Each team had to make some sort of sign or banner which said what their decade was. As all five of us were pretty useless at sewing, we went for a joint team effort to make a collage on card, rather than try anything with a needle and thread.

By the end of the week, it was starting to look pretty good. Maria had painted The ‘70s in big purple letters in the middle, and Frankie had added silver glitter around the edges. Then we’d all brought in pictures of famous people and even some old photos of our mums and dads in outrageous Seventies gear!

Simon had brought in lots of pictures of footballers. Frankie had persuaded her mum to cut out pictures of pop stars from a collection of old magazines she had, and Neil had tracked down some pictures of old film stars. Me and Maria spent ages going through the library books, and made colour photocopies of all the weird Seventies fashions we could find. Our banner was starting to look truly faberoonie!

Fliss, Rosie and Lyndz had been hard at work, too. They were doing the Sixties, and Fliss – who else? – was going to be their ‘model’ on the float. Lyndz had found a great outfit for her in her mum’s dressing-up box – a psychedelic swirly-patterned mini dress, knee boots and a wicked beehive wig.

“Loads of black eyeliner, and I’ll be sorted,” Fliss beamed. “One Sixties chick coming up!”

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