Small fish in a large SHARK INFESTED OCEAN

Last September I found myself unceremoniously fished out of my very-small-pond of a Sixth form and cast into the murky, shark infested depths of the big wide world that is University. Consequently I’ve discovered that I am not wonderful at social interaction which can somewhat hinder one’s ability to befriend people. Back at home I have many wonderful friends but they kind of come with that “we’ve known each other since we were eleven so you have to love me regardless of the fact that I just snorted lemonade out of my nose is Wetherspoons” kind of love. You know what I mean? You don’t get that advantage at university and it is incredibly easy to not be friends with someone provided you are willing to constantly fear the awkward in the streets “where have you been?” encounter. But don’t fret my dear reader (are you fretting? Well cease and desist!) for I am not friendless here in the ocean for I have discovered that the benefits of this very large body of water (I may have to stop the metaphor soon it’s getting a tad odd) is that if you look hard enough you can find all the other people who are struggling to swim in the same way as everyone else. I base my assumption that these fabulous people are now my friends based on the way they have reacted to my various..,shall we say eccentricities?

Oh my dear reader there have been so many….

I’ll start if I may (and I may as this is my blog and you cannot dictate what I can and cannot say) with my inability to not do things with my hands. Now I’m not referring to the common practice of talking using a lot of gesture as that is in fact fairly normal for an exuberant sort of person. No I refer to the fact that I fiddle. Sit me at a table with disposable napkins or cardboard packaging (I know-I must eat at the classiest joints in town) and I will systematically shred said napkins/packaging into tiny pieces which are either arranged artistically on the table or put into another small container. In the same vein I also pour salt on the table and draw patterns with it. I’m not superstitious (thank goodness) but I do have a tendency to pelt the people who are sat opposite me with salt if the fancy takes me. These appalling table manners and general lack of social niceties ought to render me a lonely lemming but no! The fact that people still ask if I want to go to the pub or place with food shows that maybe (just maybe) they aren’t completely disgusted by my lack of finesse.

(Although they did preface the invite with “so long as you don’t asSALT me again.”)

Also among my strange social habits is my inability to walk on someone’s right hand side and hold a conversation. I blame my best friend for this. For years we have both worn our bags with mine on my left side and hers on her right. This meant that if we walked in any way other than me on the left we would end up giving ourselves manic bruising from bashing into each other. This was fine until I realised that I have lost the ability to comfortably walk on the other side of a person. Now, whenever I’m going anywhere I have to do an awkward shuffle while explaining “I can’t walk on that side.” This inevitably leads me to having to tell the whole story that I just told you but without the benefit of spellcheck!  Safe to say I have received a lot of weird looks in response to this and most people assume I’m some kind of strange person. I’m not. Am I??

But amazing people I now know just say “oh ok!” and then laugh at my weirdness in a nice way not in an “I’m going to talk to other people about this behind your back later” kind of way.

I love people…

I have so many more stories about this but this post is getting a little bit long and I think I’d like to sleep at some point this week before I run out of coffee!

I send you my greatest and most wondrous salutations oh wondrous readers. Let me know how you know who your friends are in the comments section below it would bring me the utmost joy!

Much love



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