Today was supposed to be a nice relaxed day. I hate to waste the day but recently I have had something to do every day so I just wanted a day off. A day to sleep in, to plod around leisurely and basically live the real student life.
2 bad things happened today. On my day of doing nothing, I still managed to stumble across something.
#1 I nearly burnt down the kitchen.
Yes, yes I am not a domestic goddess [yet] but I am slowly [very s-l-o-w-l-y] improving. So I decided that I wanted a chicken burger. I had already marinaded the chicken over night so all I had to do was put it in the oven for 30 minutes. So you may wonder how I managed to turn such a simple task into a smoke filled kitchen.
20 minutes later I could smell a burning whilst in my room watching Jeremy Kyle. I go into the kitchen and open the oven to check my masterpiece and am hit in the face by clouds of thick grey smoke.
I turn the oven off, remove the chicken [which surprisingly enough does not resemble charcoal] and proceed to flap various tea towels around the room to air it out.
Turns out I’d just got a bit over excited with the marinade and that is what nearly caught fire. Love life. On the plus side my burger was really nice so all is well that ends well.
#2 I went for a run
I decided today that I would go for a run. Thousands of people across the planet do this exact task everyday but, once again, only I can turn the simplest of tasks into something much more complex.
The issue is that I am much too trusting of people. I’d done my nice run down a bit of the Thames and was coming to the bridge that I cross to go into Fleet Street. As I was
running walking hobbling up the stairs to the bridge, gasping for oxygen, I could hear rowdy drunkards. I got to the top of the bridge and one of them said something to me.
Now common sense would tell you to either:
a) ignore them
b) do the awkward laugh where you have no clue what they have just said and walk past. Quickly.
But no, no, no. I, lacking in common sense, say: “Pardon?”
For the love of God. As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to drop kick myself in the face.
Drunkard 1: “We were just saying well done for keeping in shape”
Drunkard 2: “You are the first one to actually stop and talk to us when we’ve done that”
That in itself says it all.
Me: “I’m not from around here so I haven’t turned into the anti-social Londoner yet”
Drunkard 1: “Bit flustered are you?”
I don’t know why people presume that by stating that my face resembles a cherry tomato that it is going to improve the situation in anyway.
Me: “Well I am on a run so…”
Drunkard 3: “It is really good you are keeping in shape”
Drunkard 2 [40 something years old, just for context]: “So how old are you?”
Me: [my favorite game on the planet] “Guess?”
Drunkard 2: “22.”
If one more person tells me I look 22…
Drunkard 3: “24”
Drunkard 1: [looking very bewildered] “Younger?”
Me: “Yes younger!”
Drunkard 2: “20?”
I am very unimpressed by this point.
Drunkard 1: “You are 19?”
Me: “Yes I am just a baby”
Take the hint and leave.
Drunkard 3: “That’s like your ex crackhead girlfriend”
Me: “So I’m going to go now, so have a good night”
As I quite literally RUN AWAY.
Note to self: when 3 drunk men are clearly talking to you, do not stop, just run past ASAP.
So then I got back to halls and decided that taking the lift to the 7th floor would be counter productive so I got the stairs. Big mistake.
A boy was walking up the stairs behind me and it was one of those incredibly awkward moments where he thought I thought he was following me. I didn’t, but so that I didn’t think he was being creepy he was doing a weird walk/jog/bounce up the stairs and changing his pace so he never got to close to me as I dragged my sweaty self up the stairs.
So I’ve just got back to my flat and the one time that every single flat mate has a group of friends round, I stroll in resembling a half blended tomato gasping for air and water.
Oh my life.