Update - Sunday

Dear Diary,

Clearly trying not to mourn the loss of Shaun too much, Mum apparently went ahead and organised a walk for the next day, with all her friends. Which I apparently said Yes to (I curse the Yes Man, sometimes). And that is how on Sunday, I came to be trekking up a frigging MOUNTAIN. OK, maybe I'm exaggerating, but it really hammered home just how chronically unfit I am as I staggered, wheezed and limped - and that was just the first 10 minutes before we even made it onto the hill. Swayed alarmingly between moods of "It's cool, I don't mind them all walking on ahead, I have 729 songs and 5 films to choose from, I can set my own pace" to "Those fucking FUCKERS!! How DARE they not wait for me?! No it's alright, you just all trot on, I'll just crumble beside the roadside and DIE."

Didn't help that I hadn't eaten breakfast either (still recovering from last night's impregnation of the Pizza Baby),a fact made clear within minutes of starting on the hill, as I had to stop practically every 5 seconds, while parents made me feel increasingly good about myself by pointing out how fit THEY are and how a young girl of 22 shouldn't be......blah... blah..... blah......
Eventually took pity on me by giving me some chocolate, which sent me shooting up the hill, confidently yelling "Keep up!" over my shoulder. The hills were TREACHOROUS, the kind you can only imagine, covered in rocks we had to navigate and precipices we had to not fall over. Naturally was steaming like a demon, but the constant presence of Wind Turbines (or whatever those 3-pronged things are) cooled us all down a little. Have never been so greatful to stop and have lunch. At that moment in time, I geniunely would've turned down the oppurtunity to meet Michael Jackson, just so I could tuck into some of Mum's tikka wraps and healthy crisps.

On the way back, the "leader" of the group got into everyone's bad books by taking us the WORST way back - through a thigh-deep muddy field, over a barbed wire fence, and through a wood. Decided he was dead to me, especially after twisting my knee, cutting my hand, and developing Trench Foot. Anyway, it was all over eventually, and soon I was tucked up in (Shaun's) bed, all cosied and aching. Until I remembered I was in work at 9. Fun, fun, fun.....

Work was hell on wheels - Sam once again barely spoke to me, and I was aching like I'd replaced the ball in a rugby game. IN NEW ZEALAND. Pat has decided he doesn't want me to serve him ever again after Friday night. Started giggling and adopting a "Oh, you crazy cat!" demeanour, until I saw his deadly serious face. Jesus, he actually meant it. Started to apologise for the sex comment (what if he had a dead wife I'd inadvertedly insulted??) but he said it was because I'd poured his drink away. OK:

1) His mate told me to do it, as he thought Pat was too pissed, and it was for the greater good.
2) He was out the fucking DOOR when he saw me do it - now call me crazy but when people walk out doors, that to me is a sign that someone is LEAVING. And therefore doesn't want to finish their drink. No?
3) He was so pissed he didn't even remember he HAD a drink until he saw me with it.

What a cunt. I asked him what he was gonna do on Wednesdays when it was only me on, and he replied "I just won't come in." Bollocks. I'd like to see him try it. He's in there every bastarding night, he couldn't fucking keep away if he TRIED. God forbid, he might actually have to stay at home for a night and talk to his wife! Well, at least I've done something good. And if it means a night without the usual condescending comments, sexual harrassment and taking the piss then fucking BRING IT ON.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Current Mood: annoyed
Current Music: "Do the Hucklebuck"