Nerves, do your worst...!

Confrontation is not my strong suit and why should it be? I don't like creating tension for tensions sake and I find it all highly unnecessary. Is it really a big deal if your opinion differs slightly from your friends? No, no it isn't. Is it so wrong to like the world when everyone just gets along!? Dynasty and I disagree on so many aspects of life, the most important obviously being that she does not love Harry Potter. Not even the books. I mean come on!! In all honesty we don't have the same opinions on many more pressing subjects than Harry Potter (although, clearly that's up there) but we respect each others opinions and we move on. Of all the heated debates Dynasty and I have had we have never, not once in our 7 year (or is it 8 now!? Exciting!) friendship fought or had anything remotely resembling an argument.

All this being said, as I sit on this rather vile Southern Rail train (whenever I travel anyway else in the country, coming back to Southern Rail is always a huge disappointment) back to my flat south of the Thames I am feeling feisty. Beyond feisty. I'm so full of nerves about the day ahead that I may, at any moment, break into a full song and dance act (I'm favouring a Liza Minnelli number at the moment...a bit of cabaret with your Sunday travel. No?). I'm hoping it'll be just enough to rid me of all this nervous energy. This day shouldn't leave me feeling nervous, far from it. It should be so mundane that it barely even registers in my mind, and yet here I am with a stomach full of butterflies that just won't sit still. I'll put you out your misery here and tell you that my day is going to be spent cleaning my flat so that we can get our deposit back. That's all. So why all the fuss? Because this means I have to spend the day with my female flatmate. And there is no doubt in my mind that with my female flatmate will be the ever judging parental units and possibly a sister or two.

I was once very close to this girl but as time has moved on she has pushed herself further and further away. And I can honestly say I have no idea why. She has done this to nearly everyone I know so I am trying not to take it personally but when someone is a friend that task proves rather difficult. She was always so petrified that she would be walked all over that she has ended up royally screwing me over instead. It hurts. A lot. Perhaps she is not quite so naive as I once thought. Perhaps I am the naive one. Either way, the rude text message I received yesterday prompting me to help clean the flat was all it took to create these nerves. Especially the added 'if you can't make it, I'll make sure I leave some cleaning for you' was just special. What a gem to the human race she is. She has barely shown her face in the flat since December and has not spoken to me since I wished her a happy birthday in March, and what's worse is that she plays the victim so well that I'm sure half of Essex is cursing mine and my male flatmates very name. So the thought of spending the whole day with her and those parents in tow is more than I can bare without a few nerves. I'm betting only a samurai sword is going to cut this tension. And I simply despise tension.

I have decided to take a bet with myself on what disapproving thing I have done this time; the fact that you can see my cleavage perhaps (this is unfair, of course. My breasts are naturally large and I even have cleavage in a polo neck. They're cheating if they take that one); perhaps I will be too tanned; the fact that I am going abroad on holiday instead of camping; the fact that I am middle class (why someone still thinks about the unimportance of class is beyond me); if I say one word against our university, but I think the one I am going to go for is if I dare to use sarcasm. This is as frowned upon as murder itself it would seem. So forgive me if this once I end up being something other than politeness itself. My mother who drummed these manners into me said that today, if I am crossed she thinks a sarcastic comment may be acceptable. And if she said so it must be ok. Although, I think sickeningly polite manners may go along way also...

...however, if you do see a large breasted, short brunette in tanned shorts and white shirt running around south of the river Thames with a crazed look on her face, please come and rescue me. I always reward kindness with Nutella!