I Really Should Be Working, But...

Hmmm. My horoscope for this week has told me that I must sort out my conflicts. This could either mean resolving them, or, as I have interpreted, sorting things out once and for all. Yes, I know. A horoscope is hardly scripture by which you live your life, but what the hell. It's half term and I intend to do very little, so why not experiment with my destiny?

So, on to the tricky business of conflict. Well, there is only a single source of it in my life at the moment, and so I've made a decision. And this, though difficult, looks like it will be a pretty permanent thing: I cannot be friends with Simon. I just can't. He may be, as a peer, intelligent and sure of himself, and for that I admire him, and I will be civil to him, and work with him at Linguists, and all that jazz. But personally? No. I don't want him to be part of my life; he's hurt just about everyone, including those I genuinely care about, and the latest Big Brother, Marshallgate incident is the final straw. He has never actually done anything, and by this I mean a single thing, to show that he cares about me as a friend, and I seriously believe he is, as my brother has told me over the past week, "a bit deranged. I mean, does he get off on hurting people or something?". So there it is. I've said it all before, I know, but for my own sanity I've got to have a little faith in my decisions.

We were out for Gem's birthday on Friday and it was fantastic. But it didn't feel like anyone was missing. And that is the most telling thing of all.

Oh, and Ben, this is nothing to do with you at all. We all love you!!!!

. . . . .

"We're not going to the West Indies."

My mum has given us the definitive verdict on our plans for a little Cricket World Cup jaunt in 2007. It's not looking good.

"But look! You've just said how exicting it is! Look! Look! Symonds just got 150! It's brilliant!"

"Firstly, Matt, you hate the Australians winning, which they will. And secondly, I'm not paying two grand to watch cricket. I could sit on the bloody Green and do that."

"Yesssss, but not with artificial beaches."

"Go to Great Yarmouth."

I think she's missing the point, really.

. . . . .

I have an unfortunate amount of work to do over this next week; holiday seems to be something of an unknown concept to the 'lovely people' at school. And they can never prove that I don't really mean they're lovely - I'm on Constant BB watch. I tried tackling my French Coursework whilst babysitting on Saturday, but it didn't really appeal to me. That and I was trying to wrestle my i-pod off a couple of soup-slurping children. Don't get me wrong, they're good kids, but I really would have rather stayed at home watching Jerry Maguire. Great film, by the way. It even makes me hate Tom Cruise a little less.

Anyway. Hopefully next week's horoscope will be much more in the 'relax, it's February' vein. But I doubt it, with the Horror Show approaching. That, for all you uneducated people out there, is the Dance Show. Oh, we love rehearsals.

Oh wait -

We don't.