Why I am a Terrible Person...

Over the past week or so, I've come to realise I'm a terrible person. I give you this as a way of cleansing the soul.

Last week, I was feeling a bit ill but decided to power on through and go into the lab anyway. An hour later and I realised that actually this was a really bad idea and I should curl up on the sofa with a cup of tea. So, feeling a bit rubbish, I embarked on my walk home. And that is where it started...

As I passed the main library, my mood dropped as I realised I'd need to run the gauntlet of charity baking stands.

I don't mind a charity baking stand.

I begin to get a bit snarked off with two.

Three is beyond the pail.

Four - FOUR - makes my fists clench as I need to dodge numerous false smiles and iffily decorated cupcakes in order to get past.

That day, my friends, was a four stall day. So it was already looking bad. But even worse, there were numerous people accompanying said stands. This upsets me as a walk past which would normally take about 30 steps becomes 380 million steps past people not looking where they are going but still moving around. [An aside - who does that?! Your head faces the general direction in which you are going when moving about in a populated area, it's generally accepted etiquette. Hmph.]

But the cakes are for charity, so being the charitable kind of lass I am, I began the side-stepping without grumbling [audibly, anyway].

Which is very nice. Until the person you are dodging decides to jump in front of you.

WHY?! Why would you do that?! Yes, I wear glasses. But that doesn't mean that my peripheral vision doesn't stretch two whole feet to the stands of cakes groaning under the weight of poorly decorated cakes which I'm pretty sure have a higher than average incidence of salmonella. (Firstly, student kitchens aren't universally renowned for cleanliness. Secondly, your cakes are outside. In Scotland. In February. For hours. Eww.)

If I wanted a salmonella cake, I would have taken a moment to stop at one of the numerous cake-offering stalls surrounding me. I can see them. I know if I want to buy a cake, I go and ask someone manning the stall if I can buy a cake. Simple economic practice. What I don't need is for someone to leap in front of me on a cheeriness scale of 11 to point this out.

What I want to do is gouge your eyes out with a rusty spoon. Then feed them to you.

Or we could live happily if you get out of my way and let me home to rest for a cup of tea.

Oh charity baker, this time I managed to keep this soliloquy of venom internal. Let us both hope there is no next time.

[On another note, the word 'scrobble' really annoys me. Gah, another word on the list of things that make me irrationally angry.]