Smelly Socks

Got back from assembly this morning to find that matron was in my study with a bag of dirty socks and an angry look on her face. Apparently I’ve been “hoarding” my clothes and not sending them to the laundry. I tried to point out that every time I did send my socks to the school laundry they never came back, despite mother spending a large chunk of her lifetime sewing in name tags to each one. Matron evidently thought I was making up lies and said that if I didn’t use the school facilities then I would incur a 50p fine for every dirty sock the cleaners continued to find under my bed. Bloody ridiculous. If I want to keep my socks in my study and wash them in the sink under my own steam then why the Hell shouldn’t I be able to?? Bloody farce, it really is.

So the plan is to go to the JCR again this evening and spend as much time in Zoe’s company as possible. I’m hideously nervous about it to be honest but Ralph’s told me I’ve got to take the bull by the horns and make a move (preferably a vaguely sober one) or I’ll spend the rest of my life a lonely virgin. I think he might be exaggerating slightly, but I can see where he’s coming from. Urgh, I feel quite sick about it I really do. What if she spurns me in a really public way? Girls are so tricksy. She might give me the come-on for a joke and then when I go in for the lunge she’ll just pull away and laugh. I can see it now. Oh God, I’m going to die alone. I just know it. Hopefully I’ll feel a little more confident with a couple of Newquay Browns inside me..