The Revision Vignettes: 3. A Lion No More

"Shhhh!"

"But it's just a battle scene!" I protested.

"Yes, but it's a really epic battle scene, and I need to fully appreciate it's awesomeness!"

I laughed under my breath and leaned back in the armchair. We'd fallen into a routine of watching an episode of Game of Thrones during our lunch breaks, and as someone who had devoured all the books and watched all the series, I was quite happy to comply. Bob was still only on series 2 though, and it was taking every ounce of my self control not to ruin anything for him every time he commented on a character or a plot point. Watching the series knowing what was going to happen was a completely different experience - there were so many throwaway comments and apparently innocuous scenes that had me silently squirming in my seat thinking of what they led to.

As the episode finished, I couldn't resist any more.

"So, just out of interest, who's your favourite character?" It was my favourite question to ask people who hadn't read the books, figuring out what misery lay ahead for them.

Bob frowned slightly. "That's a difficult one. Dany is obviously awesome because she has dragons. I quite like Robb... but I think my overall favourite has to be Tyrion, he's hilarious."

"Hmmm." I stroked my chin and nodded sagely, giving nothing away. Bob's face dropped.

"He doesn't die, right?"

I shrugged.

"No, seriously Jane, he doesn't die? Oh my god, he dies! Tell me if he dies!"

I sighed dramatically. "Well, since you asked... Yes. He does." Bob stared at me in horror as I paused. "But at the same time... he doesn't. Well, he possibly could be dead. Or there's a fair chance he's still alive and kicking. Personally, I think that he's a lion no more, a Lannister deceased, an ex-dwarf... whilst at the same time being perfectly safe and causing all kinds of trouble across the realm as he so loves to do. So I think I'd summarise that as yes, no and a definite maybe all at the same time."

I grinned over at Bob as he stared back flatly.

"You know, sometimes I don't know why I let you into my flat. You're a horrible person."

"Aren't I just!" I smiled sweetly as I swanned past him into the kitchen and back to the waiting tutorials.

"I should just stick you in the hobbit hole and have done with it." He muttered as he put the kettle on and pulled out the coffee jar.

"How many times do I have to tell you! I am not a hobbit!"

He started listing off on his fingers. "Oh really? Well, one, you're tiny... two, you call your home county 'the shire'... three, Dave has confirmed that your feet are indeed horrifically hairy... I'm afraid the evidence is irrefutable, you're definitely a hobbit!"

I scowled at him, before suddenly picking up on what he said before. "Wait, what did you say? A hobbit hole?!"

"Wondered if you'd notice that." He grinned evilly and pointed above the kitchen door. "Gary and I were talking about how we've never opened that little hatch up there... and then we decided that it's because that hole is not for us mortal humans, it's clearly only the right size for tiny little hobbits like yourself. I don't know why you've been living in a human-sized flat all these years when you've got a perfectly good hobbit hole up there!"

I tried to swat him on the arm whilst keeping my train of thought on the tutorial question, and somehow managed to catapult the pen across the room. Grumbling to myself, I pushed my chair back to go and retrieve it. "That's such a stupid idea. For one, if I'm so ridiculously tiny, how am I even going to get up there in the first place?"

As I bent down, I suddenly felt arms around my waist before I was hoisted into the air and Bob joyfully yelled "Because we would THROW you up there!" in my ears.

"Ahhh! Bob! PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!" I flailed wildly, trying to force him to drop me whilst he just laughed. He squeezed me tighter until I gave up.

"Have you stopped trying to kick me now?" He asked reprovingly.

"Yes. But if you don't put me down then you are getting kicked somewhere extremely painful!"

"Noo, that's not the answer I was looking for..." He warned as he began to swing me back and forth slightly towards the direction of the hobbit hole.

"Fine, fine! I won't kick you!" Bob stopped swinging me and dumped me unceremoniously back on my chair.

"See, that wasn't hard, right?" I ignored him as I sorted myself back out and started figuring out where I'd been in the tutorial question.

Bob just laughed at my silence. "Well, I got 99 problems, but being kicked ain't one..."

I glanced up briefly, confused. "Mm hmm."

I could feel him staring at me for a second, before smiling broadly. "You don't have a clue what I just referenced, do you?"

Feeling my face warm up, I kept resolutely looking down. "Of course I did, don't be silly."

"Oh yeah? What song was it then?"

Damn. I had no idea. But he had said song... "Umm... Nina's 99 Red Balloons?"

He burst out uncontrollably laughing, holding on to the table for support. "You are so out of touch at times, it's adorable. Where have you been living?!"

I looked up, smiling but embarrassed. "What? You know my permanent radio station is Absolute 80's! Reference Take On Me, or The Power Of Love, and then expect me to get it. Anyway, how did you know I didn't know?"

He grinned smugly. "You did your nose wrinkle."

"My what?"

"Your nose wrinkle, you do this really quick little nose wrinkle when you don't have a clue what someone just said. Or when you don't agree with someone but don't want to say, but then it's a bit of a longer nose wrinkle."

I sat there, a little speechless that he'd picked up on that.

"It's like when you touch your nose after you've done something embarrassing, like your nose is a magic time machine button that'll let you go back and erase it."

"I don't do that!" This time I was fairly certain he was making things up.

"Oh, yes you do! I'm pointing it out every time you do it now."

I started wrinkling my nose, realised what I was doing and tried to stop halfway through, then started automatically raising my hand to rub my nose.

"Arggh! My own body is betraying me!" I sat on my hands to get them to behave, fighting the urge to rub my nose. He was right, I'd just never noticed myself doing it before.

"See!" Bob said delightedly. "I told you! Ha, this is going to be a fun new game, you're never going to be able to do that unnoticed again..."

Groaning out loud, I freed one of my hands to pick up my pen. "Any more out of you except tutorial work in the next half hour, and I promise I'll tell you for certain whether Tyrion lives or dies!"

Bob sat up straight at that one, miming locking his lips and throwing away the key. I mimed catching it and carefully placed it in my pocket, before pointing at his tutorial sheet. Dramatically miming a sigh, Bob picked up his calculator. Smiling slightly, I finally turned back to my answers and started concentrating properly.

The Revision Vignettes: 2. First Day

When I arrived at Bob's flat the next day, he was still making breakfast. I claimed my seat at the table and started pulling out my notebooks, highlighters, calculator and various other revision essentials. Bob leaned back against the kitchen worktop, a piece of toast in one hand, as my notebook pile reached impressive heights.

Seeing his raised eyebrows, I nodded at them. "See, this is what it looks like when you have notes from all of the lectures..."

He smirked back at me and turned to a giant tub of some sporting supplement powder. I wrinkled my nose behind his back.

"How can you even drink that stuff? I can't even manage Beecham's powders when I've got a cold, never mind that stuff every day."

He shrugged. "It's not that bad after a while... plus, I'm still not quite at playing fitness for rugby yet, so I need all the help I can get bulking back up."

Shuddering slightly to myself, I turned back to my revision tower. Pulling out a blank notebook, I started making a rough revision plan. Five exams to revise for, plus 12 days until the first one... so, if I worked in half days, and expected to get through at least half of a course in a half day... Working it out in my head, I quickly sketched out a plan I was happy with.

"Looks good to me." Bob's voice behind me made me jump, I hadn't noticed him walking over to inspect my plan. "So, how do you normally go about starting revision? I know everyone does it differently."

"I normally make myself read over all the lecture notes first and jot down areas that I'm comfortable with and problem areas that I'll need to focus on. Just a brief read over - I don't need to understand it all, I just need to remember all the modules within the course." Bob was nodding, so I continued.

"Then I usually move on to tutorials, and work through them with the answers as worked examples. I find it a lot easier to work backwards from the answers and work out why certain equations or methods work for that situation, and then that usually helps the theory behind it click into place. After that, I move on to past papers and use them to test how well I've understood all the areas. At that point I should only have a few problem areas left, hopefully, so I can spend the rest of the time really working away on those. Finally, in the day before the exam I create little bubble diagrams of key info and lists of important equations and test myself on them until I know them all off by heart."

Bob's eyes lit up at the mention of bubble diagrams. "Yes! Wait here, one second..." He ran out of the room. When he didn't immediately reappear, I flicked open my Unit Ops notes and started highlighting key sections. A couple of minutes later, he rushed back in and flung a pile of A3 card onto the table.

"Bubble diagrams!" He exclaimed proudly.

"Um... They're a bit big for the kind of last minute bubble diagrams I was talking about..."

He shook his head impatiently.

"No, this is how we should go through the lectures! Creating a bubble diagram per module, and then we can put them up on the wall to remind us when we're working through the tutorials and past papers. Plus, making giant bubble diagrams is far more fun than just highlighting notes! Notes which I may have not finished copying up yet..."

I laughed along with him - his enthusiasm was infectious. I picked up my green highlighter and drew a big cloud in the middle of the top piece of paper.

"Module one - distillation!"

Bob grinned mischievously and started doodling something in the corner. "Well, I'm not going to complain about starting with the strippers..."

I groaned out loud and whacked him lightly on the arm. Distillation columns were split into a bottom section called a rectifier, and a top section called a stripper. Hilarious when we first started the course (and admittedly, telling Alyssa and Peter that I'd spent the morning studying strippers never grew old), but four years on the joke had definitely outgrown itself.

Looking over, I realised Bob had started drawing the decidedly un-chemeng version.

"What? No, stop that! Bob, you can't put that on our revision!"

"Hey, it'll help us remember it, right? And as you say, anything that helps you remember should always be used..."

"Fine. And stop quoting my words back at me, you know I hate that when you do it to prove me wrong. I should only ever be quoted when I am 100% correct, have I taught you nothing over the last four years?"

He smirked at me, and mock dusted his hands off as he finished his 'masterpiece'.

"Seriously Jane, stop just watching me, I can't do all the work here! Start writing down equations!" Shaking my head, I grinned and did what I was told.

The Revision Vignettes: 1. Bring It On

~ Author's Note: The next set of posts are all set over the revision period, and to try out something new I've decided that instead of a couple of weekly posts (by which point you'd be as bored of revision as I was!), I've turned it into a number of short posts focusing on one day at a time. As these will all be much shorter than my usual posts, I'm planning on posting one every two days over a two-week period. Hopefully you enjoy! 

Secondly, I know the timing of these is completely out of whack with the present. I thought about trying to catch up but figured I'd rather write the posts as I have them in my head instead of trying to force anything and lose the quality of the posts - apologies for any Christmas withdrawal symptoms induced! ~


I couldn't believe a whole semester had passed already. It had flown by so quickly - but equally, I felt like I hadn't relaxed properly in months. And the stress wasn't about to pass anytime soon - we had just under two weeks of revision before we had five exams in four days. As usual (because I was convinced the exam board hated chemical engineers), our final exam was on the afternoon of the last day of the exam period, meaning that I wouldn't get home until the 23rd of December.

I was already craving home - I was missing so many of our family traditions, from decorating the tree, to making the cake, to putting on crazy amounts of weight comprised almost entirely of my mum's amazing home-made mince pies. I just wanted to lie down in front of the fireplace, with the dog curled up in my legs, my family snuggled up on the sofas around me, with some awful TV movie on as the snow fell down outside. I wanted it so badly. Instead, I had my ever-present buddies of critical exhaustion and stress to keep me company for the next fortnight as I tried to make sense of three months of lecture notes.

The night after our final lectures, I was half watching Embarrassing Bodies with Dave (one of his many weird guilty pleasure TV shows) when my phone started buzzing. Scrambling to find it amongst my stolen mound of cushions, I picked it up to see 'Bob' on the screen. Wandering out the room so I didn't distract Dave, I clicked answer.

"So despite spending the whole day with me, have you finally realised you can't bear another minute without my glorious company?" I greeted Bob, hearing him chuckle on the other end.

"Definitely not, first thing I did on getting home was hold a 'Getting rid of Jane' party, it was fantastic. You should have been there - oh wait, you not being invited was kind of the point..."

"You're absolutely hilarious. Just listen to my uncontrollable laughter - although it being non-existent, you might need to listen for a while."

"I'm going to quote you on that someday. I'll just have a giant poster of my face and 'BOB' across the top, with a quote below going 'Five stars from Jane - 'absolutely hilarious... uncontrollable laughter...'"

"Yeah, I'm fairly certain you can't do that, I'll just get Gary to use some of that law degree on you, and then we'll get you locked up and never have to see you again! Best solution possible!"

"Oh Jane, you wound me so! Such hurtful, hurtful words."

Snickering, I shook my head grinning. "Ha, you spend enough time with me, you're used to it! Anyway, did you actually have a reason for phoning apart from our delightful verbal sparring?"

"Funnily enough, I did. I was going to ask, are you starting revision tomorrow?"

"I thought about taking the day off, but I'm so stressed about these exams I don't think I could relax if I tried. So, I'll probably be heading down to our usual room at uni at about half 8, you want to join?"

"Actually, I have another proposal. Instead of wasting time walking back and forth between uni every day, do you want to come study at mine? I always find it's much better revising with someone else, plus it means we don't have to spend a fortune in the uni cafes every day..."

I thought about it for all of half a second before agreeing. Bob agreed that half 8 was still a good time to start, and after we decided that we hung up. He was right, I had always revised better with other people. I pick things up very quickly, so I then usually spent a lot of time teaching the concepts to others. It challenged me to come up with simple but memorable ways of demonstrating the ideas, which in turn helped massively with remembering everything myself. Feeling slightly better about the impending revision weeks, a nugget of determination settled in my chest. I'd survived this much of the nightmare year so far, what were two and a half more weeks? Bring it on!

As I settled back into my cushion mound, Dave glanced over.

"Was that Bob?"

"Yup, he's suggesting we revise at his instead of trekking it over to uni every day. Looking at the upcoming weather forecast, sounded like a pretty decent idea to me."

"Hmph." Dave grunted noncommittally and turned back to the TV. Narrowing my eyes at him, I stared at him silently until he noticed.

"What?"

"Don't what me, what yourself! What was that?"

He paused briefly. "Nothing." 

I gave him The Look. "Mr Dave, I haven't lived with you this long without picking a few things up. Do you not like Bob?"

He squirmed under my gaze. "Uh, it's not exactly that I don't like him..."

I picked up a cushion, preparing to throw. "Dave..."

"Fine! I just think he acts inappropriately around you, that's all. Especially with his girlfriend being long distance and all. If I was her, I'd hate you."

Taken aback, I went to protest but he cut me off, noticing the hurt clearly visible on my face. "Jane, I'm not accusing you of anything. I know you'd never do anything with a taken guy, not after Lee. You could basically be a nun with that guilt complex you have going on. Just... spending hours and hours with him, every day? Watch your boundaries, that's all."

I nodded silently. He was right, as always.

"Anyway, that's your advice from Therapist Dave for the day, you can transfer my million pound fee direct to my bank account." A laugh escaped from me as the atmosphere lightened again in the room. Whatever happened, Dave could always make me laugh and feel better.

Don't Wake The Sleeping Monster

We heard dad come back into the chalet at around midnight. We'd all gathered upstairs in the bedroom us kids were sharing, managing to calm Alyssa down by watching some chick flick on my laptop together. As we all glanced at each other, mum slipped out the door to go speak to him. We braced ourselves for more shouting, but the building stayed quiet.

We'd just relaxed and started focusing on the film again when we heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Expecting mum, we all tensed as one when instead our dad came through the door.

"Jane, Alyssa, Peter... I'm sorry."

We all looked at each other wide-eyed - my dad never apologised, it was something we always teased him about. He'd realise he was in the wrong, stop being grumpy and cheer up, but whenever we told him to say sorry he'd always joke and deflect, never actually saying those words.

"I know things aren't always easy with my parents, but this weekend isn't the time to dig up those issues. This weekend is meant to be about us, and having a good time together. Now you're all grown up and at university I don't get to see you as much... Forgive me so we can enjoy the rest of the weekend?"

Without even looking at each other we all got up from the bed and rushed towards my dad, who opened up his arms to take us all in a giant bear hug. With one arm round my dad and the other round Alyssa, a piece inside me I didn't even know about relaxed. I hadn't realised how stressed I'd been about this weekend going well, and although I wasn't happy that there had already been an argument, at least it was over now. And for my dad to apologise... well, that definitely deserved forgiveness.

Later, when Alyssa and Peter had fallen asleep on dad on the sofa, I followed mum through to the kitchen.

"So, how did you manage to pull that miracle off? He actually apologised!" I smiled at mum, slightly teasing but with genuine questioning beneath it.

Mum sighed and ran her hands through her ear-length hair. "It wasn't me. I could see as soon as he came back in, he genuinely felt bad about it all. Maybe I rubbed it home how inappropriate it was to bring up the Twins during this weekend, of all weekends, but the apologising was all him."

I felt a bit of a happy glow in my chest at that - my dad had been getting more and more difficult to get on with recently, but maybe this marked a change back to the happier times.

"It's not all his fault though, you have to consider what he's going through." Mum continued, turning to put the kettle on.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Well, with work and everything."

I knew my dad had been stressed with work recently. He'd been working away from home in England during the week trying to get this major project done on behalf of the company CEO, but he hadn't really opened up much more than that.

"Work...? Is the project not going well? Are they going to fire him?!" My voice rose as my imagination began to run wild, but mum quickly shushed me.

"No, no, nothing like that! But he hides from you how much he actually works... He flies down Sunday morning so he can be in the office by midday, and works until 9pm at night. He goes home to his empty flat, eats whatever he has in the cupboards, and goes to bed. He's then up and out of the flat by 5am, and works those crazy hours every day until he flies back up home on Friday evenings. He's reaching the point of being clinically exhausted."

I was silent for a moment as I let that process. I knew he'd been working hard, but that was just insane. No wonder he'd been tetchy recently - if I'd been running on that little sleep I dread to think what monster I'd be.

"But why is he doing it, mum? Why doesn't he just tell the boss it's too much?"

My mum smiled sadly and shook her head. "You know dad, once he takes on a challenge he'll get it done even if it kills him." She paused a second. "And also... if I tell you this, you have to promise not to tell the others, OK?" I quickly promised. "Well, the money is good. Really good. As in, in a month or two we'll have all of the university money saved up for all of you."

My parents had always insisted that they would pay our way through university so that we wouldn't have to take out loans or work during term time. There were conditions, of course - that we got a job every summer to earn our own 'fun' spending money, and we accepted that once we started at university we didn't get to go on big family holidays any more. It was more than a fair deal though.

Unfortunately, the idea had originally been based on the Twins promising to pay a fair chunk of the money to put us through our degrees. I'm sure you'll be shocked to find out that despite many, many promises, this money never actually appeared. However, my parents had made us a promise, so without us knowing they'd started saving up. My dad earned a decent wage, but putting three kids through university cost a lot, so it had been taking longer than planned.

Seeing my expression soften, mum gave me a hug around the shoulders. "I know he's not always easy to get on with - if anyone knows I do! - but he does all this for you guys, you know. Everything he does is for us."

Gesturing for me to pick up the other mugs, we rejoined the others in the lounge. Dad maneuvered himself out of the sleeping pile of Alyssa and Peter and moved over to sit between mum and I. Filled with a sudden burst of emotion, I leaned into him and hugged him hard. The corner of his mouth quirked up and he ruffled my hair.

"What's up, J?"

"Nothing, dad. I just love you." He laughed, and shifted so I could lean more easily against his shoulder.

"Love you too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the weekend went so well, it was a real struggle returning back to the reality of 4th year. We spent Sunday morning racing around the local abandoned quarry on quadbikes, laughing at Alyssa as we repeatedly lapped her around the track (she had a real fear of going fast after an unfortunate incident when she was younger involving quad bikes and the neighbour's glasshouse... Luckily no damage occurred, but it was a very close call!).

Fortunately for me, I had something else to look forward to. Gary had been texting me pretty much non-stop since Sunday night, and tonight was our weekly Glee night session. I hadn't actually seen him properly since *that* night, and it felt like butterflies had taken up permanent residence in my stomach. I'd never really gone through the "proper" route of getting a boyfriend before (my experiences with Lee being a prime example of how you shouldn't get a boyfriend...), and I had no idea what to really expect. I just hoped we still clicked as well in person and no awkwardness got in the way.

After mentioning to Gary that I'd made a fresh batch of white chocolate icecream the other night (definitely my signature icecream dish), he bombarded me with pleading messages until I agreed to bring it over - but still leaving some for Dave, after he moaned about me stealing all his treats. I love all my boys, but when it came to food it was like keeping toddlers happy at times!

Speedwalking over to minimise the time the icecream was out of a freezer, I was over to their flat in record time. Their front door had been playing up, so Bob had to run down the stairs to let me in. We chatted easily as we climbed up, but before we reached the door he stopped and touched my arm.

"Look, I know you and Gary are talking tonight... I just wanted to say - don't raise your hopes too high, OK?"

I raised an eyebrow at him and waited for him to continue.

"Not because I don't think it will work or anything, I mean you're both two of my closest friends, you're both amazing people..." He stopped and sighed, flustered.

"Just... Gary doesn't have the best track record with this kind of thing. But what do I know, next thing I know I could be best man at your wedding..."

That broke my composure and I burst out laughing. "Uh, no, you don't have to worry about that anytime soon, if ever!" Grinning back at me, he quickly changed the conversation and led me into the flat. As he nipped through to the kitchen to put the icecream away, I pondered what that could have meant. Maybe Gary wasn't that keen after all? Or maybe... was he - jealous? No, it couldn't be, his girlfriend had called him when we were walking home from university today and you'd never heard such a loved up conversation. If it hadn't been socially inappropriate I'd have crossed to the other side of the road and put my headphones in at full volume, blegh. PDA didn't do it for me in any form, whether physical or verbal - keep it private, people!

I wandered through to Bob's room and found Gary already sitting on the sofa in his standard Hannah Montana blanket. I'd seen it and teased him enough to not bat an eyelid any more, so I collapsed down next to him and we easily started chatting about the latest episode. Internally I breathed a sigh of relief - it didn't feel awkward at all.

The hour passed quickly, filled with our usual constant chatter of Bob complaining about us forcing him to watch it, and Gary and I debating our favourite characters. During one of the advert breaks, Bob got up to go get the icecream, leaving us alone again. I started one of my usual rants on the hundreds of diet food adverts that seem to have taken over TV nowadays, but Gary put a hand on my arm to quiet me.

"So, after Glee's finished... Would you mind hanging around a bit? Just for a chat?"

I smiled and put my hand on top of his. "No problem at all."

We were still smiling at each other when Bob came back with the icecream. Rolling his eyes at us, he handed over the bowls and sat down himself before taking a spoonful.

"Jane - oh my god, my mouth is in heaven. This is amazing."

Gary nodded furiously. "It's just so smooth, how did you do this?!"

I laughed at both of them. "You're both ridiculous, all you need is an icecream machine, a bit of cream, milk, sugar, eggs and white chocolate, and you're sorted!" Secretly I was pleased though - I love feeding people, and seeing people happy eating my food is one of my greatest pleasures. Plus, this icecream was pretty damn awesome.

Before we knew it, the episode was over. Bob seemed to know we were off to talk alone, as he quickly settled down at his laptop and didn't follow us out of his room. Assuming that we were heading into Gary's room, I opened the door and took a half step inside.

Gary moved to stop me, but it was too late. I was frozen, staring at the bombsite in front of my eyes. I'd seen messy student rooms before, but this - this was beyond disgusting. Eyes flicking round the room, I realised I couldn't see a single inch of the floor, so covered as it was in clothes, crisps wrappers, plates - god, was that something mouldy in the corner?!

Gary reached around me and pulled me back as he shut the door. "Um, sorry about that... I was going to suggest we talk in the kitchen?" He shamefacedly led me through as I tried to instantly forget what I'd just seen. I'm not a clean freak by any means (except about dirty dishes, which I can't stand), but that room had genuinely made me want to vomit.

Realising I was a little shellshocked still, Gary quickly changed the conversation to the snow we had forecast soon. It worked, and again we were soon chatting away, but it felt like Gary was just leading up to something and I wished he would get on with it. Bob had reminded me that we had a 9am tutorial the next morning that I'd forgotten about, and I was just wanting to go collapse into my bed, watch another episode of Buffy on Netflix and still get my good 8 hours sleep. Every time the conversation lulled and I thought we were finally there, he'd suddenly change the conversation to something else lighthearted and frivolous. I could feel the grumpy tiredness monster inside me start to stir as the clock passed half ten, quarter to and started nearing 11pm. Frustration inside me reaching a breaking point, I'd almost convinced myself that I'd been imagining things and he didn't want to say anything at all - in which case, nothing was stopping me leaving to go to bed.

"So, I'm sorry to break up the conversation, but I really need to go sleep..." As I started shrugging on my hoodie, I could see Gary clearly fighting whether to say something.

"OK Gary, call me crazy, but I feel like you've got something to say, and you've been dragging it out all night. So, what is it?"

He glanced up at me, surprised. "Huh, I'm more obvious than I thought then?" I smiled wryly and nodded. "Oh, OK. Well. Um... well, we get on, really well - we've been chatting all night and it's been really really nice, and you're a lovely girl..."

"But?" I interrupted. I was tired and cranky, made crankier by the fact that he'd clearly just wasted an hour of my evening because he didn't have the balls to say where this was clearly going.

"But... maybe we should just stay friends. I'm not really wanting a relationship right now." He stopped and looked at me warily.

"No problem, I appreciate you telling me. Friends it is!" I smiled at him and started heading for the door. Out the corner of my eye I could see him do a double take before he followed me to the door.

"So... are we good? I didn't mean to lead you on or anything-"

"Gary, we're fine. Honestly. It was worth seeing if this was going anywhere, but I don't mind that it isn't. And right now, I really, really need to go sleep if I want to function at university tomorrow, so..."

"Oh, of course! Uh, well... see you next week for Glee?"

I nodded before turning and heading down the stairs. As I walked back to my flat, I was surprised to find that I actually was fine. OK, I'd been hoping that maybe something would happen... but in hindsight, it was more interest in dating in general than actually Gary, which wasn't exactly the best start for anything. Plus, any emergent feelings had definitely been killed by that horror of a room!

Plus... that traitorous little part of me that couldn't get over Bob had puddled into relief - after all, if anything happened with his flatmate, that was a bit of a closed door to anything ever happening between us without major drama. But no! I wasn't doing this anymore, I promised myself. Squashing that little bit of me down and down until it was virtually nonexistent, I finally reached my flat and my bed. Sliding under my beautifully soft duvet, I sighed as I fully relaxed and instantly fell asleep.

The next morning, Bob was already waiting outside as I wandered up past his flat. He glanced at me worriedly, but didn't say anything. Laughing silently to myself, I figured if I could be blunt yesterday then there was no reason why it couldn't keep going today.

"You knew, didn't you? That's what the warning was about?"

"Yeah... Gary had been saying he wasn't sure. But he does really like you as a friend, and he didn't want to hurt you."

"I get that, I do. And thanks for letting it work out as it did. But I'm not hurt, so it is all OK, honestly."

He gave me a side-look. "Are you sure? Gary said you were a bit... cheerful after he told you?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I can imagine it sounded a bit weird! If I'm honest... I'd kind of figured something like that was coming after the whole hour of filler conversation, and I was just delighted that I could finally leave and go to bed. This girl needs her sleep!"

Bob burst out laughing. "You are the weirdest person, have I ever told you that?"

"Every day!" I grinned back at him. "Oh, and I meant to say, what is with Gary's room? I'd call it a pigsty but that's a deathly insult to pigs everywhere, I wouldn't make my worst enemies live in that!"

Bob groaned out loud. "Don't even get me started, it's horrendous. We're going to get rats at some point, and believe me I am not the person who is going to be sorting that out..."

Our laughter rang out as we strolled towards university, teasing each other and sharing revision plans as we headed towards the final few days of lectures before the dreaded Christmas exam period descended. However, with a friend like Bob beside me? It didn't seem half so bad.

The Twins

For a long, long time, my dad's parents had been a source of contention in our house. You could guarantee that at least 75% of all arguments came about because of them - whether it was something they'd done, or just the anger that talking about them caused.

It hadn't always been that way. I remember when I was very young, I used to love visiting them in England. They always had two beautiful beagles that I would play with for hours, and my grandad was the epitome of the jovial, red-faced grandfather.

Then, when I was six, something happened. I never found out exactly what it was - only that my dad had been down visiting them, and when he came home it was like they didn't exist. We didn't see them, we didn't talk to them. We didn't get Christmas or birthday presents, and we never talked about them.

I didn't mind too much - living so far away from them, we'd only visited grandparents a few times a year, and although I enjoyed it I didn't have that close a connection. Plus, clearly they'd done something really bad to upset my dad so much, and I would always take my dad's side over theirs.

The silence lasted seven years until I was thirteen, when my parents sat me down in the kitchen and explained that grandad had tried to commit suicide. Or, attempted suicide, as my mum stressed - he'd left a very clear trail so that it would have been very difficult not to find him in time. However, with my grandad now recovering and on medication, my dad decided that it was time to talk to them again.

So, back down we went to England. We decided to meet in a local pub. It was a bit surreal seeing them walk in - they barely looked like they'd aged from my fuzzy memories. As we got up to greet them, I went to hug granny - the usual greeting I'd give to family. As I leaned in, she pushed my head back sharply so that she could kiss me on the lips. I was taken aback and not particularly pleased about it - I was at the age where kissing people was weird, especially people I barely knew - but I screwed my eyes shut and suffered through it until she let me go.

Alyssa was next. Again, granny grabbed her and leaned in, but Alyssa freaked out and pushed her away, stumbling backwards. Seeing my dad glare at her, she looked down at her feet and then shyly smiled at granny, mumbling, "Sorry... I don't like kissing people, it's yucky." I couldn't really blame her - if my memories of my grandparents were fuzzy, hers were virtually nonexistent.

Granny had been staring at her in silent outrage during the few moments since Alyssa had pushed her away. As soon as Alyssa finished speaking, she narrowed her eyes and started jabbing her finger towards my sister's face.

"You should be sorry! That is disgraceful behaviour, what kind of little girl doesn't want to kiss her grandmother? Apologise again, and properly this time!"

Granny wasn't bothering to keep her voice down, and most of the pub had turned to stare in disbelief at this lady berating a young child in public. By this point Alyssa had burst into tears and hidden her face in my mum's jumper, scared of this strange woman yelling at her.

Luckily, dad managed to calm granny down and the rest of the meeting went as smoothly as it could, but Alyssa refused to say anything until we left. I found out later that afterwards granny spoke to my dad and insisted that he make Alyssa apologise as soon as possible for her rude behaviour, completely unable to understand that as an adult, she should be apologising to Alyssa. To this day, she still insists that she did nothing wrong, and that a bit of public embarrassment is essential to a child's upbringing.

That really started the animosity between Alyssa and my grandparents. It was only aggravated when mum began to let slip details of how they'd treated her throughout her married life. Apparently they'd always disliked my mum, and made no secret of the fact. Little things to start with - such as never receiving a Christmas present from them despite being with my dad since secondary school.

Bigger things too - one that always stuck with me was their reaction when my parents started living together. My dad had moved to Scotland whilst my mum was still in England, and it reached the point where the relationship was either going to end, or move to the next level. After my dad proposed in a handwritten letter with a rose, in a rare romantic gesture from him, he invited my mum to come and live with him in his house. A house, you should know, that had been bought with significant financial help from my grandparents.

And as soon as they found out my mother was living there? They immediately demanded that my parents pay them back every single penny they'd put towards the house. It also turned out that the reason we cut contact with them? They finally said something about my mum which pushed my dad over the edge. He's never revealed what it was, but anything that created seven years of silence is something I never want to know.

More recently, when my mum was struggling with my maternal grandmother's diagnosis of Alzheimer's, my grandad told her in a phonecall to stop 'making up symptoms for sympathy and attention; it is not becoming in a grown woman.' From that point on, my mother joined Alyssa in their refusal to speak to them.

And me? Well, as you know, I hate family contention. I could completely understand why Alyssa and mum hated them so, and honestly I hated them too for how they'd treated my mum. However, I could see how much it hurt my dad - despite everything they'd done, they were still his parents, so for his sake I still saw and spoke to them. I perfected my smiling, friendly mask, asked about how they were doing, and this way I soon became their favourite grandchild.

It wasn't something I wanted. They would give me extra money for Christmas and birthday presents, which unsurprisingly wasn't well received by Alyssa and Peter. I always shared out the extra - I didn't want to be the one in the spotlight, I didn't want their favouritism. Couldn't they see that by making me the 'special' one, it just caused unnecessary issues? Shouldn't all grandchildren be loved equally?

It was also around this time that I began to realise what incredible, awful snobs they were. Every time we visited them for lunch, granny would make the biggest deal about how all the food was bought from Waitrose because Tesco just 'wasn't up to scratch with the masses all buying there'. One year I asked for the new electronic 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire' game for Christmas, excited over having an electronic game - with flashing lights no less! Bearing in mind I was 12 at the time, come Christmas I got a box of the right size... and opened it to find the adult 16+ game, with a note detailing of how children should be pushed to fulfil their full potential, and to see beyond the flashing lights to find true knowledge and purpose. Unsurprisingly, after a couple of games where none of us could answer any of the questions, the game quietly gathered dust in a cupboard until it was thrown away.

And I know this all sounds a bit churlish. At least they bought me presents, I hear you say. And you're right - but what began to eat at me, was a sense that they didn't care. That to them I wasn't a child, but a trophy - something to show off to their friends, to make them look good. To raise them yet again above 'the masses' because how many people had a grandchild who could consistently get the top grades in her class, who played football yet still played an instrument and did musical theatre? No one else's grandchild was as good as theirs - in anyone else a proud comment, a loving comment to make, but for them a cold superiority.

Fast forward to when I was applying to university, and had received offers from my top two choices: Edinburgh or Cambridge. I was invited down to England to see a cricket match with them and my dad, and remembering how much fun I'd had with my dad sitting amongst the cheering crowd at the Ashes the year before, I was actually looking forwards to going.

However, I should have known. Not for them the seats amongst the common crowd, no, only the most expensive tickets possible in the VIP box. In the private room I was surrounded by people four times my age subtly cutting each other down over expensive clothing, jewellery, cars. I went outside and sat alone at the front of the box, trying to pretend that I was down in the crowds, only caring about the sport and not how much money I'd made the previous month. It slightly sickened me that people would pay so much money for these tickets (and believe me I knew how much they'd cost, as it was virtually the only thing grandad had talked about), only to not even bother watching the match.

As I headed back inside, my stomach sank as I saw grandpa gesturing me over to the table, with a large bottle in his hand. Clinking a glass, the attention of everyone in the room swung to him as he drunkenly praised me for my "exceedingly excellent" grades last year, and asked everyone to join him in a toast to "Cambridge's newest and brightest jewel, if she knows what's good for her!". Mortified, I tried to sink into my seat as he presented me with a cheque for £500. Without even asking I knew that Alyssa and Peter hadn't got a penny off them. And just as I thought it was over, he swung the bottle of "extremely expensive!" champagne over and presented it to me, as "a token of our admiration!".

It was the final straw for me. I was, and had always been, teetotal. I hated the taste of alcohol, what it did to people, and had repeatedly talked about this with my grandparents. By repeatedly, I mean putting it into every single conversation with them as they always seemed bemused by my refusal to drink glasses and glasses of wine over meals. I had thought that maybe repetition would finally make them listen.

But no. Why would it matter about taking the person into consideration when you can use them as a prize, as a "shining jewel" to present and show off in front of a room of people as shallow as they were? A chance to flash how much money they had but hide it behind "celebrating our granddaughter"? To my dad's credit, for once he realised what his parents had done and we were able to escape pretty soon after that. As soon as we'd dropped them off I burst into tears, and sobbed most of the way home. I'd never been so humiliated, shown off like a prize pig to complete strangers. For the first time in my life I was ashamed of doing well at school, ashamed of my grades and all my extracurricular activities, and I hated them for it.

It was pretty soon after that incident that I rejected Cambridge and accepted Edinburgh. I would like to say that I was already 80% certain of Edinburgh before, due to so many things - being closer to home, Edinburgh's balance of greenery and town, and of course the brilliant Edinburgh Fringe Festival. However, that sealed the remaining 20% almost instantly. The thought of them being able to boast about their Cambridge star made my stomach turn over, and I gained a perverse pleasure out of knowing they'd now never be able to say that about me ever again.

Which brings us up to today. Alyssa and my mum refusing to speak to them, and me hating them but still agreeing to see them for my dad's sake. After I rejected Cambridge and they noticed how well Peter was doing at school, he has replaced me as favourite grandchild. He's quite pleased about it all - not through any love of them, but he is very fond of the extra money that position comes with. As we still try to be careful of my dad's feelings and not create unnecessary drama, my mum came up with a code name: "The Twins".

It comes from a beautiful book and upcoming film entitled The Art of Racing in the Rain, and the following quote sums them up quite completely.

"Enzo referred to Eve's parents, Maxwell and Trish, as the "evil twins" because they look the same and act the same. They always get mad at Eve for marrying Denny. They lived in a fancy house and nothing was ever good enough for them."

I decided that if I was never good enough for them, then I'd consider that a life well lived. I swore that I would never become like them, that I would never, ever consider myself 'above others' or in any way more important than someone else because of material possessions and wealth.

It's awful to admit, but occasionally I daydream of the day my dad dies, in a world where they're still living. And finally, at the funeral, there would be nothing holding me back. No more mask. No more faking it whilst screaming at them on the inside - no, this time I could let it all out, let them know exactly what I think of them and how from that moment on, they were no family of mine.

Of course, I don't want my dad to die - I'll be devastated the day that he does. But when I'm sitting there, listening to them complain over the influx of dirty immigrants or wax eloquent over my brother's desire to be a doctor (imagine that, Doctor Peter!), it's pretty much the only thing that keeps me smiling. And the fact they can make me smile over imagining my dad's death is just one more thing to hate them for.

All That Is Gold, Does Not Glisten

It was Tuesday evening before I had a response from Gary. I'd just got home from my weekly pop choir rehearsal, my head filled with various bass harmonies for U2's "With Or Without You". Not to blow our own horn, but it had sounded pretty amazing by the end of the session! Our choir leader was debating mashing it up with Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" - I had no idea how she was going to do it, but we had full faith in her genius musical abilities to pull something brilliant out of the bag. The choir was definitely one of the highlights of my week - I'd been involved with every singing group at my school, even setting up an a cappella group in my final year, but Edinburgh didn't offer many singing opportunities that weren't religious or classical in nature. This group had been a god-send, and despite being one of the youngest members by a good few years, I couldn't ask for a better group of singing buddies.

After locking my bike up whilst humming away, I noticed that little 'new message' symbol at the top of my phone. Swiping down and seeing Gary's name, I quickly closed the screen and ran up the stairs. This was a message I wanted to read sitting down, not whilst walking up stairs where I'd undoubtedly trip over and end up in hospital with concussion, or something like that.

Reaching my room, luckily I'd left my computer on sleep and didn't have to wait 15 minutes for it to turn on. Opening up facebook, I clicked on the little message bar at the bottom of the screen.

Hey, yeah the weekend was fun. I dunno though, was just planning on seeing how things went... but I quite like you so if you wanna try and make something more of it we can give it a go? How do you feel about it?

Well. That was a good question. I was secretly quite pleased that it hadn't just been a drunk thing, but at the same time I didn't want to rush anything - plus that wasn't the most romantic message ever received. In reality, it had only been two months since I broke up with Lee, and although I wasn't hung up on him I didn't feel the need to jump straight into another relationship. Plus, however much I wanted it to just disappear, there had been all that awkwardness with Bob, and maybe his flatmate wasn't really the best next step.

But then again... might I not be missing out on something wonderful with Gary if I didn't at least try? Clearly the chemistry was there, and we were able to talk... Plus, I was young, I was single, and I had no solid reason not to go for it!

Taking a breath and hoping I wasn't making a mistake, I replied:

Good, because I quite like you too! And yes, I'd like to see if we could maybe make something more of it... I'm away this weekend, but we can talk next week on Glee night?

I also realised I didn't have his number, so I sent him mine so we could chat over the week. Feeling weirdly proud of myself for having taken the first step with a guy, I closed facebook back down and set myself two hours of assignments to do before I let myself collapse into bed. Still, getting all my uni work done would all be worth it to properly enjoy my parents' Golden Anniversary this weekend!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Friday morning, our 11am double lecture was cancelled due to a family emergency for the lecturer (although nothing life-threatening, the email reassured us). This suited perfectly - after a few worried phonecalls to the specialist cheesemonger I'd ordered my dad's present from, it turned out that the postman had in fact tried to deliver a full week ago but hadn't left any 'missed delivery' slip for me to rearrange delivery. Luckily, the cheesemonger was able to give me the tracking number. Despite arguing, the Royal Mail refused to resend the parcel until today, where they'd promised that I'd be able to pick up the parcel after 12pm. As my train out was at 4pm, there wasn't much space for any delay.

Otherwise, our plans for the weekend were running smoothly. My parents had booked us a lodge in a country hotel that was right in the middle of Scotland, roughly equal distances from Edinburgh, Glasgow where my brother and sister were at, and home up north. We'd been there many years ago, and the hotel was very dog-friendly, so all together it was the perfect place to meet up.

However, first task of the day: acquire the cake! Ray had kindly offered to drop past my flat on the way to his group meeting so I wouldn't have to walk in and back to uni. He texted me as he found a space outside, and I flew down the stairs to meet him.

He was already leaning into the boot of his car as I reached him and peeked over his shoulder.

"Oh, Ray! It's beautiful!" He turned and proudly smiled at me as I gazed at his amazing creation. It was beautiful - he'd textured the green icing to look like grass, had somehow drawn in ripples in the mini pond, and the flag on the green proudly sported a golden '50!'. And the sand in the bunker - it actually looked like sand? How on earth?

As I leaned in even closer, trying to figure out what he'd done, Ray nudged me. "Don't worry, I've not used sand on your cake! It's coloured sugar crystals, I tinted them all yellow."

"Ray... I don't even know what to say, this is fantastic. But first, put the cake down." He gave me a look but did as I said. As soon as he'd put it down I flung my arms around his neck and squeezed.

"Seriously, you're amazing! They're going to absolutely love it! Have I ever mentioned how brilliant you are?" I was already so excited to show my parents this cake - it was going to be the icing (quite literally) on top of what was shaping up to be a great weekend.

"So, how much do I owe you?" I asked, pulling away.

He shrugged. "You don't owe me anything, don't be silly."

I raised my eyebrows. "Uh, yes I do! I'd have paid at least £50 for something like this in a specialist cake shop." He was still shaking his head at me. I narrowed my eyes at him and started pulling money out of my purse, but he locked his arms behind his back. Giggling, I tried to stuff it down his t-shirt instead, causing Ray to swat at me and swipe the money out of my hands.

I shrieked and started grabbing the notes off the ground before a car could appear and take it away. Ray immediately knelt down and started helping me, babbling apologies. Luckily, for once it wasn't raining or particularly windy, so we managed to get it all back without any financial casualties.

"See! Bad things happen when you try to give me money!"

"Ha, I think that may have been something to do with you... but fine, I give in for now." Ray nodded as I capitulated, and started putting the lid back onto the cake box. I hadn't finished though.

"However... I should warn you, you will be paid eventually." Grinning, I put on my best Liam Neeson voice (by which I mean a horrible copy of an Irish accent). "You cannot hide from me: I will look for you, I will find you, and I will... give you cake money!" I couldn't keep it up and burst out laughing at the end as Ray shook his head at me despairingly.

Hugging each other goodbye, I carefully carried the cake back up to my flat and started running through my packing list one last time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My train arrived a few minutes before Alyssa and Peter's train, so I had time to walk over to their platform and wait near the exit. The train was almost empty as it pulled in, so I was able to spot them in a carriage and run over (carefully, with the cake!) to greet them. Due to this year of university being so heavy, I hadn't been home at all this semester and it felt like forever since I'd seen them!

After half hugging each other around the cake box, we dragged all our suitcases over to the nearest taxi rank. With it being so quiet, we were able to get straight into a taxi and start heading over. As it only took about 20 minutes to get out to the hotel, we planned to still have an hour or so to set up before our parents arrived with the dog.

Alyssa and Peter demanded to see the cake as soon as we were buckled into the taxi.

"OK guys... here it is!" I removed the top of the box with a flourish.

Alyssa burst out into a grin. "Oh thank god, that looks really good!" My head shot up and I gave her a funny look.

"Um, did you not trust me?"

She had the good grace to blush a little. "No, no, but you know when someone home bakes a cake, you're never quite sure how it will turn out...

Peter had been inspecting it whilst we talked and suddenly burst in. "Aw nice, the flag's even got a 50 on it!"

"Yup! Ray thought of everything, I didn't even ask him to do that."

Conversation turned to our various university courses, TV shows and the general sibling teasing that we always fell back into whenever we all came home. Before we knew it, the taxi was pulling into the hotel driveway. I paid the driver whilst Alyssa went inside to check in and grab the room key.

Ten minutes later, we were into our lodge and ready to set up. The cake of course went as the centrepiece on the table, surrounded by the basket of food (including the cheese, which luckily had been waiting for me at the post office!), the wrapped pictures of our dogs, and dad's cricket tickets, along with a beautifully handwritten note I'd created. Mum's big present, the golf bag and clubs, was already at home and we'd decided that it wasn't worth our parents dragging it all the way down here when she had already been using them for the past week.

As we laid down the finishing touches of balloons and '50' confetti, mum texted us that they'd be at the lodge in five minutes. We turned off the lights and rushed round finding hiding places, before all settling in to wait behind the sofa. Soon enough the lounge was lit up by the headlights of a car turning into the lodge driveway, and a few minutes later we heard the key turning in the lock.

The lounge door opened and we heard footsteps. Alyssa poked Peter and I, and started whispering the countdown of "3, 2-"

Before we could jump out, a furball of excitement came flying round the back of the sofa and cannoned into us, licking as much of our faces as she could at once. Laughing, we all scrambled out belatedly yelling "Surprise..." at mum, who was standing in the middle of the room almost crying with laughter.

"You really should know better than to hide in a room when the dog's coming with us, she just thinks it's a new game!" giggled mum, leaning down to stroke Isla as she ran over to sit at her feet, tongue lolling happily out of her mouth.

Dad appeared a second later, coming back down from putting the suitcases upstairs. After we'd filled him in on our attempted surprise, we shooed mum and dad to the table to start opening presents.

They absolutely loved their shared foodie hamper. As dad opened the cheese I held my breath, dreading what would happen if it was mouldy. I love my dad, but he does have a really short temper that can get set off by the littlest things, and I just wanted this weekend to go by without any issues. Luckily all three of the cheeses seemed to have survived, but I stuck them all in the fridge as soon as I could just in case.

As mum had already had her big present, we made dad open his next. Making him open the handwritten note first, he seemed a bit confused, but that was quickly replaced by the happiest smile as he realised I was trying to recreate our amazing trip to the Ashes a few years back. Giving me a huge hug, he promised that he'd frame the note and hang it up at home so he could always read it. Alyssa and Peter rolled their eyes a bit as they'd both thought the note was a bit overkill, but I'd been certain that dad would love it.

Finally, we got both mum and dad each to open a perspex print of our current and past dogs. Mum gasped a little when she opened hers - we'd managed to find the most beautiful picture of Isla looking away from the camera. It was one of those photos that just seem to capture her essence, as hippy as that sounds. Dad was exclaiming over his, a picture of the two dogs we'd had when I was born frolicking together in the snow outside our house.

I sat back on the sofa, a warm glow in my chest. All that planning and organising to get the perfect presents seemed to have paid off, and seeing my parents so happy made it a million times worth all the effort.

Later, after we'd all eaten a picnic tea of cheeses, grapes, mini sausages and other finger food, we all collapsed onto the sofas and turned on the TV. I sat on the floor leaning back onto my mum's legs, with Isla curled up and snoring against my leg. The recent cold weather had done her good - her fur was silky smooth and she smelled of frosty grass.

As I leaned back and closed my eyes, I missed the conversation between dad and Alyssa. The first sign something was wrong was when mum's legs tensed behind me, immediately followed by the sound of Alyssa bursting into tears.

My eyes flew open to see Peter glaring at dad, and Alyssa covering her face. Turning to look behind me, dad's red angry face filled my vision.

"It's just one phone call, it's the minimum I'm asking of you! I find it incredibly ungrateful that you won't even speak to them, it's bloody pathetic if you ask me." My stomach clenched as my dad yelled at Alyssa, his face growing even redder and blotchy as the anger took hold. I could feel the tears building up behind my eyes; I'd never been able to deal very well with family arguments, it was like the moment my dad started yelling, the tears started.

Alyssa spat back from across the room. "I've told you! I never want to speak to them! And especially not today, today is meant to be about us, not them!"

Mum tried to intervene and calm everyone down. "Matt, calm down. Can't this wait until tomorrow? This is our family time, let's just watch the film together, please..."

Dad shrugged her off and stood up abruptly. "No. No, I will not calm down! I do fucking everything for this family, out working all day, earning money so I can pay for overpriced hotels like this one, and what do I get? Any gratitude at all, no I don't think so. She won't even deign to spend a couple of minutes on the phone for me, that's how little she thinks of me. And the rest of you, taking her side!"

He paused for a second, breathing heavily, as we all sat there stunned into silence, staring at him. "Well, if you won't do that for me, I'm not doing this weekend for you. See if I fucking care." He turned and stormed out the room, and a second later we heard the front door slam and the car start up.

Alyssa burst into a sob and ran upstairs. Mum got up and followed, calling after her up the stairs. Peter and I sat and stared at each other across the room before I shook my head angrily, letting loose the tears that had been threatening. As always, if there was anything that would ever set off a family argument or ruin a family holiday, it was them. My dad's parents, ruining everything yet again from across the country.

Cheesed Off

Opening up a message to Gary, I saw that he wasn't online. That was to be expected, seeing as he had a full time job and everything. In a way I was a bit relieved - this meant I could just send the message and wouldn't be checking the chat every few minutes to see if 'message read', or even worse, the dreaded '...' indicating he was writing had appeared. I kept it simple - essentially just asking the same question I'd asked Bob - was this a one off drunk thing or was it something more? I added that I wasn't expecting an instant relationship or anything out of it, but I'd rather just know where I stood on it all. Perhaps not the most subtle or elegant way of phrasing it all, but if humans were build on solid foundations made up of our qualities, my two strongest ones would be 'awkward' and 'subtle as a brick'. If he couldn't deal with that now, then there was no way anything would ever happen between us!

After an hour or so, in which I read the same page of my notes at least five times, I packed up my stuff and tapped Ethan on the shoulder to let him know it was time to go. We had our first group project meeting, and I didn't want to be late. At this point all we knew were the other people making up our 11-strong team, and that this project would make up 40% of our grade this year (and therefore 16% of our overall degree classification!). We didn't know our topic, or the lecturer in charge of our team, and with it being so important to my degree I couldn't wait to find out. Luckily the project wasn't going to require much work before Christmas (especially so as I'd taken so many of my classes this semester) but I would have plenty of time after to really focus and make sure we did this as well as we could. I was also currently thinking about going for project engineering jobs after graduation, so figured this would be the perfect opportunity to find out if I was actually any good at leading a project.

Our room was in a building I'd not been in much, and was renowned for being a labyrinth, so it took us a little while to find where we were meant to be. Finally finding the right number, we were still the first people there. We'd barely sat down before a familiar face opened the door and I immediately realised who our assigned lecturer was...

Dr Lee. A perfectly nice man from South Korea, who had taught us basic process calculations in second year, but unfortunately his accent made it almost impossible to understand him. I always felt really uncomfortable complaining about it, because I respected him as a very clever man in his chosen field, and his English was incomparably better than my Korean. However... he had chosen a career as a lecturer in a foreign country, and that came with certain requirements regarding your ability to teach. It had taken us half the semester to realise the reason we could never replicate his equations was that he mixed up his letter sounds, and every person had written down incorrect equations. I'd spent hours trying to go through tutorials with him, and it took forever to work out even the slightest miscommunication in his teaching. Luckily, I suggested that it might be useful for a postgrad student to help out in tutorials to 'ease his load', and we learned the entire course from this poor unsuspecting postgrad guy.

Finding out that he was our assigned lecturer gave me a bad feeling right from the start. I knew that he'd be a lovely man to have around, but he would be useless if we had any technical problems that we needed help with - and I could guarantee 100%  that there would be countless issues. Sighing, I mentally stiffened my spine. OK, not the greatest start, but surely the best project managers come from making successes of the worst messes?

The rest of the group slowly arrived. It was a pretty good mix of people from my year, including Ian: a guy I've worked with before who I knew was a fellow exceptionally hard worker and perfectionist. There was one other girl, who I knew fairly well and knew she'd keep the group motivated to do well. There was only one guy I was worried about - he was notorious for being the class clown, not through any natural wit, but through his complete oblivion to anything going on in classes, if he ever even turned up for them.

Once everyone had turned up, Dr Lee handed out our project outline. Dr Lee then ran through the basic timeline of the project - research before Christmas, each of us designing a module of the overall plant, leading to a personal and group report, then the final presentation to our whole year plus invited industry experts. I zoned out and started skimming through the outline - all of the logistics had been available online for the past month so I knew what he was saying already. It took me a while to understand exactly what we'd been asked to do. It looked like some kind of solids processing plant design, specifically for potassium chloride crystals for fertiliser... but apart from one very brief introduction to solids last year, we hadn't been taught anything about it. I didn't even know what kind of equipment we'd have to design. However, the flip side of that was that I knew most of the lecturers had very little solids processing experience as well, so hopefully that meant easier questions when it came to the final presentation and question panel.

After Dr Lee finished explaining the marking model, we were finally able to discuss the assignment. Part of the new system was each of us taking turns chairing our weekly meetings, so I volunteered to be the first chairperson. At this point there wasn't much we could do though, especially as none of us had the first idea where to start with this kind of process. We needed to come up with at least two different methods of designing this plant, with a separate distinct section for each of us to 'own' the design. We determined our rough timeline for the project, when our weekly meeting would be, set up a google documents to share research on, and finished early. Dr Lee tried to convince us to stay longer and brainstorm initial ideas for the plant, insisting that we had been taught this stuff already. Breathing deeply (not a great sign that he was getting to me so soon), I disagreed, with the rest of the group agreeing with me. When he finally seemed to accept that we were right (and muttering to himself about the curriculum needing changed to include such 'basics'), we escaped with some relief.

As I headed down the corridor, laughing with Ethan about how clueless our lecturers could be, Ian ran and caught up with me.

"Hey Jane, mind if I have a quick word?"

Waving Ethan to go ahead without me, I nodded. "No problem Ian, how can I help?"

"I just wanted to warn you... I've got a few friends who have just graduated who have been warning me about this project - it's something we need to spend a lot of time on to make sure it gets finished to a decent quality and before the deadline, as it can spin out of control very quickly."

I immediately agreed with him. "I know, I've heard pretty much exactly the same from people. I'm actually planning on setting a deadline for our group report a couple of weeks before the actual deadline - we probably won't meet it but at least it'll force us to get the work done a lot earlier so it's less of a panic, and then we can all focus on our individual reports."

"That sounds like a really good idea, I'm definitely on board with that." Ian paused for a second, smiling at me. "I have to say, I was really happy to see you were in my group for this, I know you'll push us to produce an excellent project. And don't feel this is all on you - I'm more than happy to put extra hours into this project to make sure we get the best grade, so you can always rely on me to get things done."

Touched, I grinned back at him. "Aw, you charmer! But seriously, that's really good to hear - I was over the moon to see you in the group too. Despite this weird assignment, I know we'll get through it all somewhat intact!" He waved and headed off to catch up with his friends as I turned right towards the bike racks.

Even though I'd known Ian was a hard worker, it was still a relief to hear out loud that he cared as much about this project as I did. I was definitely a bit of a control freak in group projects - my grades were extremely important to me, and it took a lot before I trusted someone enough with important pieces of work. It wasn't a good attitude to have, as it often resulted in the rest of the group quite happily leaving me with the overall work, and leaving me a burned out mess by the end of it (albeit one with top marks). This project was far bigger than any group work we'd been assigned before, and I had to learn to delegate else I wouldn't cope with the rest of the year. With the project counting for so much it wouldn't be easy, but knowing Ian was there to help eased my mind.

Tying on my helmet, I started pedalling down to the astroturf pitches for football practice. I'd warned my coaches that I'd be a bit late due to the project meeting, but if the traffic lights favoured me I would probably just make it in time. That was perfect with me - I didn't want to get there early and have to talk to anyone about the match and my meltdown over my performance.

Arriving at the pitches out of breath but nicely warmed up, I grabbed my football bag, took a deep breath and ran over to where the girls were already stretching.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Throwing my football boots into my cupboard and showering little plastic astroturf chips everywhere, I frowned into my mirror. OK, so I hadn't wanted anyone to comment on the fact I got upset at the football match - it was embarrassing and I didn't want to get a reputation as being stroppy or too emotional over games. However, I'd expected Bruce to say something. Anything! I don't know what I'd been expecting - no, I lie, what I had expected was for Bruce to say something along the lines of "I spoke to Ryan and we realised that it was unfair for you not to play the whole friendly, and for us not to consider you for any games when you are clearly the most loyal and reliable player in the team." Or something along those lines at least - god, even an "are you OK?" would have been enough!

I'd been trying to convince myself for the last week that my feelings at the match had been wrong, that it was selfish of me to be so upset over this, but damn it, I WAS the most reliable player. I was the only player who turned up to training every. Single. Week. I was the only person who came along to watch every single match as a spectator, despite never being picked, despite being in my nightmare year of uni, despite the fact it killed me to watch from the sidelines week after week after week. On top of this I was putting hours in each week as Treasurer of the team to try and make ends meet with our rapidly shrinking supply of money, and both of the girls in charge of fundraising had decided they 'didn't have time to fundraise on top of uni and playing games', so I'd been lumped with doing two of the committee roles all by myself, and I was really, really reaching my breaking point.

I was pinching my nose to try and hold back tears when my internal ranting was interrupted by my ringtone - currently the classic James Bond theme song. Scrabbling through my bag to find it, I glanced at the screen to see if it was a call I needed to take - I wasn't sure my voice could hold up to a normal conversation right now. Unfortunately, it was Alyssa, and with my parent's 50th birthday weekend coming up in four days, I quickly wiped my eyes and pressed answer.

"Hey! So, have you got all the presents?" That was Alyssa, straight into the organising. However, as a fellow organised freak, I definitely appreciated the distraction right now.

"Almost! Ray says he'll have the cake ready for me by Friday, and he'll give me a lift back to the flat after uni so I don't have to carry it, and it'll be as fresh as it can be for the weekend. The cricket tickets have been bought - sorry, I forgot to tell you I'd done that. We actually lucked out - I've had to go for the 4th day of the test match, but we're only three rows from the front so that should be a great view. What about you?"

"Good, well I've got everything - all of the food has arrived and it's in my basket, apart from the cheese I asked you to order. Has it arrived?"

Ah. I'd completely forgotten Alyssa had asked me to do that - the rest of the food had ended up being a bit expensive so I'd offered to buy the Lancashire creamy, crumbly and tasty cheese that my dad loved so much (and yes, those are the actual names for the three cheeses - you can't say Northerners aren't practical in their naming!). I had actually bought them but I'd completely forgotten about them arriving... but thinking through, I hadn't seen a 'missed delivery' note.

"No, they haven't arrived yet, but I was worried about the cheese staying fresh so it should be arriving by Wednesday this week. I'll contact the seller and see if they have a tracking number I can use though." OK, it was a bit of a white lie. I had delayed delivery, but I was certain it should have arrived before the weekend... Now, I was just worried that the postman hadn't left a delivery note and the cheese was languishing in a distant post office depot somewhere. My only hope was that Scotland wasn't known for it's warmth at this time of year, so hopefully the warehouse was acting as a giant fridge!

Alyssa wasn't particularly happy about me 'leaving delivery that late' but she couldn't argue with it.

"But Jane, if that cheese isn't there, it's completely your fault OK? And you can tell mum and dad that."

"Yes, Alyssa, I'll make sure it gets there! And I'm sure I can cope telling them that, at worst case I'll buy dad some Wensleydale cheese as a back-up and tell him the story, he'll appreciate the thought!"

"Hmph. Thoughts don't make amazing 50th birthday presents. But it's on you." She paused then, and the line fell silent for a moment too long, which immediately made me feel like something was up.

"Hey, you OK? This weekend will go absolutely fine, I promise, mum and dad will just be really happy to have us all together again."

She sighed. "No, it's not that, it's nothing." My big sister spidey sense went from tingling to full on alert.

"Nothing seems to have got you worried... Must be a pretty important nothing!" I teased her, trying to get her to open up. Alyssa was a bit funny at times, some things she would vent about for hours but on others it was like trying to open an uncooked mussel to get any details out of her.

"Ugh! If I tell you, you can't tell anyone. Seriously Jane, I mean it." Spidey sense update - boy troubles suspected.

And confirmed as she continued. "There's a guy from orchestra... and we went on a date, and it actually went really well. And we're going on a second one. But I'm just expecting him to do what everyone else has done and just mess me around until I've decided I do like him and then he'll bail."

Wow. Alyssa never talked boy stuff with me - this guy must have really gotten to her. Admittedly, there was a reason we never talked about this kind of stuff, because I had no idea what to really say back.

"Well, he must be pretty special for me to hear about him! But I don't know, Alyssa. I know guys have been awful to you in the past, and I don't want to be the one to push you into a situation like that again if he is another jerk. But you're the only one who can make the decision as to whether he is jerk material, and it depends if you'd rather know for sure and potentially get hurt, but also potentially be really happy, or if you could deal with always wondering what if." I nodded to myself - that came out marginally better than it had been in my head.

Alyssa snorted a little over the phone. "Trust you to give me the most depressing 'go for it' speech in history! But, you're right. I know. And he does really seem different."

"So... do I get to know any more about him? Name, maybe?" I quickly flicked my iPad on and opened up facebook, ready to go for some immediate stalking of this potential brother-in-law.

"Ha! No. You'll just go straight back to mum with it."

"Lies! Such lies!" I exclaimed, but couldn't hold back my laugh. It was true. There was no such thing as a secret in my family, all secrets shared between siblings found their way back to mum at one point or another. Plus, by pooling our information, mum and I had become really good at finding Alyssa's guys on facebook in the past. We have no shame.

"I'll tell you this though - he's fourth year and an engineer."

"Yesss!" I cheered enthusiastically over the phone, trying to make Alyssa laugh and succeeding. "I immediately approve. Engineers are awesome."

"Yeah, yeah, I've just told him any engineer chat and he's out the door, I get enough of that at home from you and dad!"

Laughing, we said our goodbyes and I hung up, feeling much better than I had before. As I whatsapped mum saying "New Alyssa gossip - engineer man alert!", Dave stuck his head round the door.

"Were you... cheering just then?" He asked bemusedly, eyeing me lying on my bed in half of my football gear, boots and shinpads strewn haphazardly around the room.

I grinned. "Yup! Alyssa is dating an engineer!"

He groaned. "Oh god. Not more of you. I swear there's enough engineering graduates around to take over the world sooner or later."

I threw a cushion at him from my bed whilst he was speaking and hit him full in the face. He made a face in mock outrage, before stealing the cushion and running back into the corridor, yelling over his shoulder.

"Well, I was going to tell you Agents of SHIELD was about to come on, but I'm not sure I want to watch it now with you in such a violent mood..."

Giggling, I yelled I'd be through in a second and started speed-changing from football gear into pyjama bottoms and a hoodie. The pile of notebooks on my desk stared at me, but I obstinately ignored them as I headed towards the door. With being away for my parents' 50th this weekend, there was an insane amount of work to do before then, but for now the night belonged to curling up on a sofa, watching TV, and eating home-made cookies with my best friend - exactly as it should be.