Peer Pressure
Topic: levers
I am of course nothing more than a bare faced liar, as I make the confession that I had in fact been planning this little trip away for some months now, and it wasn’t just a spur of the moment move on my part because I was getting a bit uppity because my housemate insists on playing James Blunt at full volume whenever he’s in the kitchen frying cabbage and brussel sprouts - and invariably setting fire to the place. It wouldn’t be so bad, but more often than not it’s the same bastard track. “You’re beautiful”? You’re A Bloody Miserable Whiney Bastard, more like..

Anyway, partial blame lies with former housemate Greg “Des” Hopton (the Des monikor was apparently awarded to him while at University due to the boy’s penchant for all things Des Lynam – his mum has been instructed to record every edition of Countdown until his return), who decided to pack in his job and up-sticks to Wellington, New Zealand, so he could be reunited with his girlfriend Caitlan, who is an American, and was also a housemate, though not until I had moved out of that particular abode, but she did inherit my bedroom, so lucky her. Although, one complaint she did have on moving in, was with regard to the sudden appearance of large quantities of long black hairs in the chest of draws. To this day, I still protest my innocence as the hair on my head at the time was on a grade one, and although the rest of my body could be described as being of a “hairy dissipation”, my pastimes were generally not spent plucking out great lengths of pubes and storing them in the bottom draw.

I will be staying with Greg and Caitlan for just over a week.

Blame should also lie with Jenny and Chris, who are spending the next three months travelling round the world as of today, and who suggested we meet up in Sydney.

Additionally, blame should also be shared by Stig, who emigrated four years ago and now lives in Melbourne.

Admittedly, I did use the excuse of “going travelling” as an excuse to make myself appear slightly more interesting to my peers when they enquired what I was up to these days. And, so the more people I told, the harder it became for me to turn round and say I wasn’t going or to quietly forget about it. And so the greater the onus became for me to actually do something about it, and so in effect I became trapped.

The jailor to my own personal prison.

And so, to avoid the risk of endless ridicule from my peers, I ended up actually booking the bloody thing. Something, only a few years ago I wouldn’t even have dreamt of doing.

The victim of my own dastardly peer pressure.

Still, it should be jolly fun, and it’s certainly more interesting than the mundaity of every day life. Just means it’s all going to be a bit of a bugger when I actually have to come back and re-enter society.