How To Get People To *Strongly Dislike* You

There are a couple of prime examples in the world of people who took my advice and rode that wave straight to hatred city, do you want to be one of the lucky few?

  • Have controversial opinions – make sure that no one else agrees with you.
  • Bitch behind everyone’s back – there is no one more dislikeable than someone who enjoys making fun of their ‘friends’ behind their back, and no one more hateable than someone who does so but pretends that they don’t.
  • Be untrustworthy – never keep a secret, it’s a fantastic trait to have if you want to have no friends.
  • Lie – it’s fun and makes you seem like a jerk
  • Don’t say sorry first – whenever you realise that you are wrong, forget about it, and remind yourself that you are amazing and have massive ego
  • Always reply with ‘haha’ and nothing else – this is acceptable from time to time, however, there is nothing more dislikeable than someone who is unable to use actual words to reply to something amusing.
  • Or never replying to texts and calls – be sure to leave the ‘Read’ receipts on too for full effect.
  • Ask for everyone’s Snapchat name – there is nothing more attractive, believe me.
  • Don’t pay attention to current affairs – ‘lol who is tereasa mai?’
  • Become a daily mail columnist – I mean you will have the company of such great influencers and dick-heads, so why not?
  • Be ill-mannered – flat-out rudeness, skipping queues (lol so british), unkindness to those of less privilege, having terrible dining manners and exhibiting foul language in public can all help you become disliked.
  • Have zero loyalty – be that friend
  • Say the brand name ‘Nike’ wrong (it’s nikey btw) – this one is a pet peeve and I am not sorry for enforcing this onto you as it annoys the shit out of me.
  • Be purposefully ignorant – join conversations that are obviously serious, and make some sort of cretinous comment to really lighten the mood and turn faces into disgust.
  • Have a lack of ability to read situations – for example don’t make fun of a serious situation in front of a classroom of students
  • Make sure that you can’t take a hint – it’s a good attribute to have
  • Be incapable of not having your phone for more than a day – always have it by your side, and when you are out with others, prioritise speaking to your online pals rather than the people who have given up their time to be with you.
  • Have a certain type of arrogance – carry it with you wherever you go, it is a necessary device
  • Never quit a debate or conversation in which you have proved that you were right – we get it – you are right – now you can stop pestering everyone about it
  • Be an arse
  • Contradict your beliefs – be incredibly hypocritical.
  • Have a lack of sense of humour – make sure that you are so boring that people have to imagine you having a personality
  • Be smarmy – think Piers Morgan


That’s all folks, sorry that it has been a while.


Best wishes,





You’re Not A Class-Clown, Just An Asshole Diagnosis

School life isn’t like how it’s depicted in the movies; the soundtrack is just internal screaming and the class-clowns are disruptive little shi…

Symptoms are as follows:

  • You are constantly rude to teachers.
  • You are constantly rude to younger students.
  • You are constantly rude to your peers.
  • Tbh you are constantly rude to everyone, it’s hard to tell when you aren’t.
  • It is for that reason why most are scared of you. Including teachers.
  • In addition to Year 7s being terrified of bumping into you in the corridor, the teachers don’t like your presence that much either. Even if you can’t see it yourself.
  • You make jokes that no one finds funny apart from you. In fact you probably think that you are absolutely hilarious; the next best comedian to come out of a grammar school in Bucks (and as most people hate grammar schools, your background won’t win you over).
  • And the god-awful jokes you don’t make are usually ignorant and/or completely insensitive.
  • You don’t care about school, meaning that you: have a complete disregard for school rules, disrupt EVERY SINGLE LESSON and end up in detention almost every day.
  • You are insecure, but take it out on others.
  • You aren’t trustworthy, and so have few close friends (#sorrynotsorry)
  • You are annoying to everyone but yourself and your friends.
  • You make fun of people who have no social life (ie me).
  • You are pretty attention seeking and have bags of confidence most people wish they have.
  • However, the most annoying thing about you is that you act stupid when in reality you are the total opposite: incredibly smart.
  • You also create a “hard” persona; acting aggressive when questioned (rightfully).

Do you relate? If so, you are probably an asshole. An annoyingly smart and time-wasting asshole.


  • Fuck off
  • Show off your intelligence rather than your ignorance
  • Refrain from general rudeness
  • Only contribute in lessons when you have something actually worthwhile to say
  • Pipe down a bit
  • Try to understand other people, and acknowledge that not everyone you call a ‘loser’ deserves that title.
  • Be nice to teachers please
  • Don’t slut shame (or any kind of shame)


I hope more people would take my advice on the last few points.


Best wishes,


I Shouldn’t Go On Holiday


A few months ago I was lucky enough to holiday in the Caribbean (fancy) with the family, and allowed myself to burn to a crisp (not so fancy). It was an amazing trip, however the day I am about to recall highlights all of the reasons why I should’ve been left in the UK.


The day started off well-ish; I hadn’t burnt yet (which is always a good start) and I woke up at a reasonable time.

We found a pretty place to have breakfast and ate there: I had waffles with syrup, the typical Caribbean cuisine – don’t ask me what my family ordered, my recollection of random and useless information doesn’t expand that far. The waffles were delicious. So delicious, in fact, that as I stood up to leave I heard a rip from my chair.

Now, at the time, I thought that the most plausible and realistic explanation for the sound was my thighs peeling off the chair that I was sitting on, seeing as the heat is staggering for a little pale-faced British girl. So, like nothing happened, I carried on with the rest of my day.

First on my agenda was reading, because holidays are designed to let book (and sleep) deprived teenagers catch up on desires they would’ve previously pushed away due to, you know, GCSEs.

I pack novels for holidays like I pack clothes: I always bring far too many and end up never use/read them all. So usually out of the twelve books I take on trips, only about 3 are read in their entirety. However, on this particular day I seemed to accomplish my holiday reading capability, in 6 hours as opposed to 10 days. I don’t know how I did it.

It’s a great achievement, of course, but I can’t help feeling that it was such a waste as I decided to stay inside and read for a 6 hours, instead of prancing around in the 30 degree heat and my ghost-white skin. If I’m honest, I could have wasted that time in England where I don’t get judged by nonexistent cleaners for staying indoors for that amount of time.

So, moving on.

After I eventually finished the 3 books, my parents dragged me outside (quite rightly and annoyingly), and left me huddled on the most uncomfortable sunlounger they could find whilst they went to find some fruit.

The wooden sunlounger was pretty stiff, and so I spent quite a while throwing my legs about, trying to find a relaxing position. However, when I did find a comfortable place to put my legs I fell asleep.

But not for too long, as in the 10 minutes of pure roastage I could physically feel my flesh boiling beneath my skin, a sign that you should probably get back inside.
I looked down at the part of my body in the sun (my waist and up was sheltered) and thought it was a joke.

My position of choice was bending my legs towards the saturated heat. Great choice Sofia, great choice.

It turns out that in those 10 minutes I managed to only slightly burn my stomach but completely change the colour of my knees and the tops of my feet to a bright crimson. The colour was so vivid that it looked like I had dipped them in red paint. Absolutely horrifying.

So naturally I went back inside, to hide the shame from my parents and to fall into a spiral of self-wallowing. (Which isn’t a rarity, I have to admit.) And it wasn’t long before it was time for dinner. Hallelujah!

I was still sitting on the side of my bed before my sister came in, looking less visible, shall we say, than me. We discussed the audiobook she was listening to (which was apparently very good), and the low-down on our evening meal plans. It was, as you can imagine, riveting.

Of course I needed to get changed out of my ratty, trashy clothing into something more presentable, so I just changed my top. My shorts could stay. For now.

As I rose, I heard a murmur from my sister, but I didn’t follow it up, nor listen intently as I was too busy addressing my burnt knees/ feet situation.
We ate. I can’t remember what. It was probably some sort of chicken and rice dish idk. But that’s not the point.

It was when my sister and I were making our way back into our room when she decided to tell me that I had a rip on the back of my shorts. Oh joy – the rip from the morning.

Now, I think you should know that it wasn’t like this rip was just a small hole; one that wasn’t really that visible. Oh no. It was a HUGE, GAPING hole at the back of my shorts, right in the centre. You could’ve patched it up with a mug placemat it was that big. It was devastating, and also made me feel the following (we all know how much I love list);

Self-conscious. I got up from that seat in the morning and thought it was my thighs peeling off it, and it turns out it was my fat arse splitting my shorts of course you are going to feel self-conscious. I mean, that is an improvement in the wrong direction.

A bit fat. My shorts were 2 sizes bigger than my actual size. Can you actually IMAGINE??? But if I am honest, this feeling went away after a few days as I remembered what the ice-cream tasted like.

Pissed off. Those were my only pair of decent shorts and I only went and snapped them in half. I still continued to wear them, but even still, I was very angry at allowing myself to enjoying eating what the hell I want to eat (when I walked around I covered a towel around my waist, which in retrospect looked like I was hiding some sort of developing child, but it was handy in keeping my embarrassment concealed behind a piece of vibrant orange material). Although my knees and feet were still on display for all to laugh at.

So, that’s basically what I’m like on holiday in a nutshell: I burn in weird places, eat too many donuts, rip my clothing; which then makes me to cry into a pillow in my hotel room whilst reading some mildly entertaining novel, that presents vaguely relatable teenagers going through similar traumatic experiences, and eventually coming out of them slightly better-off than at the start, all the while being judged prefucely by the cleaner. #cantrelate

I guess it’s a good job we are only going to Dorset for 3 days during the Easter holidays. Hopefully it will be slightly less shit.

Best wishes,


Things I Do And What They *Actually* Mean

Hey guys,

How’s it going?

I have conducted a list of particular things that I do and the real reasons why I do them.

Please enjoy 🙂

  • Yawning

What people think it means: I am bored.

What it actually means: I am incredibly sleep deprived and am finding it very difficult to stay awake. At times it could mean that I am bored, which is why you may often catch my mouth gaping maths.

  • Rolling my eyes

What people think it means: I am being rude.

What it actually means: I have had enough of your bs/ mockery and I am being rude.

  • Laughing

What people think it means: I find something funny.

What it actually means: I probably don’t find something funny and am sparing your feelings by pretending that your god awful joke is the optimum of hilarity, when in actual fact my dog could make me laugh more. Or I find something actually funny, in which case you would know.

  • I am being weirdly quiet

What people think it means: I am an introvert.

What it actually means: I don’t feel fully comfortable in your presence to unleash my full potential (which is huge btw) and so I am being incredibly socially awkward.

  • I am being super hyper

What people think it means: I am weird.

What it actually means: It is really early in the morning, I have eaten too many sweets or both. (Usually both)

  • I am not dancing

What people think it means: I am shy.

What it actually means: I am embarrassed, awkward and my friends aren’t with me so I feel insecure.

  • I say that I don’t mind what [we] eat

What people think it means: I am indecisive.

What it actually means: I am too hungry to care where we go and what we shove in our mouths, meaning that I don’t care what we eat and how we end up there.

  • I am busy

What people think it means: I am busy.

What it actually means: I am busy doing nothing. (Or I am actually busy)

  • I am not texting back

What people think it means: They have done something wrong, that I am busy or that I am being impolite..

What it actually means: I have forgotten to reply and feel too ashamed to text back when I remember that I have received a message – which is a crap excuse.

  • I wake up late

What people think it means: I am being *insert middle aged mum voice* a typical teenager.

What it actually means: FUCJINHG SLEEP DEPRIVATION

  • Talking about weather

What people think it means: I am enduring small-talk.

What it actually means: What people think it means.

  • Going on Buzzfeed quizzes

What people think it means: I am immature.

What it actually means: I am bored out of my mind and so I need to know what type of bread I am based on my Disney preferences. It is necessary.

  • Naming my cacti

What people think it means: I am fucking weird.

What it actually means: I have friends.

  • I have glasses

What people think it means: I am intelligent and really blind – so blind that I can’t see people’s fingers

What it actually means: I don’t have ’20/20′ vision. (Please can someone burn that phrase. Much thank.)

  • Hiding in my house when someone knocks on the door

What people think it means: I am doing work.

What it actually means: I am terrified of interacting with real people and don’t want to force contact with other beings for a couple of seconds/ minutes/ hours/ days. Or that I am half way through an episode of something and I cba to open the door to the Amazon delivery guy.

  • Eating a lot

What people think it means: I have a problem

What it actually means: I like food (and I probably have a problem)

  • I don’t cry much

What people think it means: I am strong.

What it actually means: I supress my emotions and am wasting away inside.

  • Swearing a lot

What people think it means: I have a potty mouth and that I need to eat a bar of soap (my mum actually made me do that once)

What it actually means: I stubbed a part of my body against a sharp object and I need to let out my pain in an effective way.

  • Going to career fairs at school

What people think it means: I am really organised.

What it actually means: I have no idea what I’m doing with my life and will die in poverty if I don’t sort it our soon-ish.

  • Doing exercise

What people think it means: I am really healthy.

What it actually means: I broke another floorboard.

I hope that you all have a great week.


Best wishes,




How are you? I hope you are doing well.

Right now it is 01:36, which means that I will probably have 6 hours sleep. Fantastic. It also means that I will have to write this post relatively quickly, considering what my under-eye circles will look like tomorrow morning.

I just wanted to catch-up with you, seeing as I haven’t posted a decent blog post in almost a month.

2/2 – It was my 16th birthday! (ie no more blue peter card perks)

5/2 – I went out with Anya and Amelia; splurging on books and looking at art for a few hours. It was lovelllyyy.

10-18/2 – Spent about a week holidaying with my family in the Caribbean, which was super hot and incredible. *I must add that I half wrote what would’ve been an incredibly humorous post, however I never completed it. So that may pop up in a few weeks time I guess.

1/3 – My brother, Alex, took me to see a comedian called Lolly Adefope in Soho. She was very funny and I would totally recommend her to anyone.

2/3 – It was my Mum’s birthday! (ie eating a much cake as humanly possible)

4-5/3 – Friends came down from Leeds and we took them to a Point-to-Point near Oxford. Summary: It rained a lot, I didn’t win anything, and I ate a really nice ice cream.

So I guess writing out my social events like that makes it look like I have done shit-all, which is what I suppose I have done.

Please be patient for the blog posts; right now I am half writing crap posts and hitting blocks that I can’t seem to get past. So I know I say this whenever I haven’t posted anything in a while – but I am sorry and I will try to get back to posting content regularly. (I know that the Jan Playlist was a bit of a cop out).

Speak to you soon; hopefully next week.


Best wishes,






Music Playlist – Jan 2017

Giving recommendations is one of my least favourite activities; it gives me crippling anxiety.

And I know that it’s almost March, so sorry about the *very* long delay.


  1. Girls And Boys In Love – The Rumble Strips
  2. Hurts Like Heaven – Coldplay
  3. Celeste – Ezra Vine
  4. Something Good Can Work – Two Door Cinema Club
  5. There She Goes – The La’s
  6. Simple As This – Jake Bugg
  7. Mess Is Mine – Vance Joy
  8. Lover Come Back – City and Colour
  9. Love Like This – Kodaline
  10. The City – The 1975
  11. Bad Decisions – Two Door Cinema Club
  12. Scars – James Bay
  13. Love Is On The Radio – McFly
  14. Heroes – David Bowie (i know it’s pretentious af i said don’t judge)
  15. Fickle Game – Amber Run
  16. Brand New Moves – Hey Violet
  17. Castle on the Hill – Ed Sheerio
  18. What You Don’t Do – Lianne La Havas
  19. Are You Gonna Be My Girl – Jet
  20. Talk Too Much – COIN
  21. Want to Be with You – Niko and the Touch
  22. YOUTH – Troye Sivan
  23. Unpredictable – 5sos (this one’s for 13 year old me)
  24. Guys My Age – Hey Violet
  25. UGH! – The 1975
  26. I Miss You – blink-182
  27. HEAVEN – Troye Sivan
  28. Mr. Brightside – The Killers
  29. Anna Sun – WALK THE MOON
  30. ILYSB – LANY
  31. Cool Blue – The Japanese House


check out this playlist:


I hope that you had a lovely couple few weeks.


Best wishes,


sixteen things for sixteen

Sixteen things that I want to achieve in the next year of my life on Earth.


  • I want to develop a more effective way of saving money.

Also in this bracket: stop buying books that I won’t (realistically) get around to reading.

  • I want to make more cringy, nostalgic things.

This one is a bit ‘meh’; I know that I  will instantly fail this. Although, this said, I have actually started creating Spotify playlists filled with my favourite songs that I have enjoyed each month. Hopefully I can keep this up and share a few of these with you in monthly favourites posts. *how beauty blogger of me

  • I want to have a decent set of GCSE results.

 Basically my aim is to not be able to spell FUDGE with my grades.

  • Although I did say that I needed to stop buying books, I do want to read more of the ones that fill my bookcase and draws in my bedroom, just to get rid of the space tbh.

and also: reading.

  • I want to stop hating/ gossiping.

Because this soul needs a good cleanse (with Tesco’s Finest bleach, as it’s the only thing to clear the damage done by doing nasty teenage girl crap).

  • I want to eat whatever I want and not feel guilty about it.

Up to a point, of course.

  • I want to get to bed before 00:00.

I mean, quite frankly, my sleeping schedule is incredibly irregular, and my *very late* bedtimes are getting out of hand.

  • I want to be able to experience events and situations without the need to put it on social media.

I am already disciplined in this field, I don’t have a great urge to snapchat my breakfast and religious quotes that I have found on the internet. This said, I feel as though I need to become less dependent on social media, and I want to be able to live in the moment as much as possible.

  • I want to bake more.

Cakes. Duh.

  • I want to do a little more sport.

i.e. run to catch the train instead of giving up when it arrives on the platform.

  • I want to watch more classic films and watch more documentaries.

In the grand scheme of things, this one will probably be more beneficial to me, due to my new found understanding of pop culture in the 80s, which will mean that Buzzfeed will become more ‘relatable’.

  • I want to love a coffee shop so much that I go so frequently I instantly become best friends with the owner, they know me on a first-name basis, and that they give me discounted cakes.

Somewhere other than Greggs lol

  • I want to buy new glasses so I don’t look like an IT support man.

Maybe vamp it up a little; go for the edgy-bearded-hipster vibe.

  • I want to be able to keep my plants alive for a month.

This is incredibly ignorant of me, but when I initially bought 5 cacti I didn’t realise that I needed to water them as much as I do (or should do).

  • I want to be able to continue writing on this website without creating uninspired and repeatedly boring content.

Which is slightly ironic, due to the fact that I have 6 (or something) categories that I centre each blog post on. #originality

  • I want to be able to sing.

Yep. Never going to happen.

Here’s to another year of embarrassing moments which I will no doubt look back on in a state of cringy, fml madness.

Best wishes,


How to Spot a Chav


  • White Adidas Superstar trainers.
  • White matching Adidas tracksuit.
  • White Adidas backpack.
  • Okay, fine, the person is littered with the chavvy brand.
  • Or, if the person is a girl, she is alternatively wearing something from Victoria Secret PINK.
  • Grey tracksuit bottoms, skintight around the thighs, and ends flared, with the brand name written in jewels or sequins around the bum.
  • There is a knife in their back pocket.
  • Vocabulary is used that would not even be considered to add into the Oxford English Dictionary, let alone the national dialect.
  • Croydon face lift (top knot) or man-bun.
  • Ears pierced if a guy.
  • Go to MacDonald’s in the daytime.
  • Their room is filled with empty cider cans and vodka bottles from the corner shop.
  • Go to a dodgy skate park and look for dodgy older men and women handing out dodgy sticks and grass-like substances to 13 year olds.
  • They are pretending to smoke.
  • They aspire to go on Jeremy Kyle.
  • Or have already been on the show.
  • If a girl, look out for skin-tight white jeggings and/or a crop top, with half of her stomach practically dragging on the ground.
  • If a boy, look out for bald patches on the sides of or all of his head (basically look for a fboy)
  • When in a close radius with said ‘chav’, you can see old ladies trying to cross the road in attempt to flee the upcoming crime scene.
  • Go to the places in town you stay away from at night (and in the day).
  • When out and about, they seem to breed and spread their chaviness like wildfire
  • They probably think that they are American.
  • Their twitter account is active and super unfunny; with their tweets, only ‘relatable’ to those who also have little to no brain cells.
  • The PM is unknown to them. (Theresa May btw)
  • Go on Facebook.
  • Follow the mockery of ‘posh’ people and ‘posh’ voices.
  • Play or reference the Inbetweeners, which is, apparently, the funniest British TV show according to teenage chavs.
  • Follow the songs and tunes of either a) mainstream artists, b) rappers, or c) Oasis and Catfish and the Bottlemen screeching from their crappy cars.
  • Search the hastag: #lad
  • Use the descriptions taken from Urban Dictionary. One of my favourites (made by a person called ‘chavspotting’) describes chavs as ‘incredibly fertile beasts, and are highly successful breeders’. The person also states that although chavs ‘own mainly sportswear, they will only break sweat if running from the police’. Use these to help you.
  • Search for  unnatural and frizzy bleach blonde hair.
  • And also a mane that is riddled with extensions; often described as horse hair by toffs.
  • Watch the news.

That’s all I have for now, however, feel free to add some more in the comment section.

Just to let you know, I will be posting more of these so don’t worry if you felt like you missed out.

Oh, and for all of the ‘I’m not posh’ grammar school girls from South Bucks – you’re next.


Best wishes,


Funky, Fake and Fairly Standard FAQs

It’s been a year since I have started this pretty average blog, and so I have gathered all the FAQs mentioned or shoved down my throat over the past 12 months and answered them for you :)))

What is this?

A blog.

I think.


Who are you?

A fifteen-year-old girl, although you should know this considering you have read the ‘About Me’ page. I mean, you have read it. Haven’t you?


When do you post?

Usually on Fridays, but this changes depending on whether I have successfully procrastinated writing an article or not.

But usually on Fridays.


Why did you start blogging?

For the free stuff.

Only joking. What free stuff?


You’re so relatable omg!

That is not a question.


Do you have the social media?



What are your social media accounts?



Who did you really base your fake boyfriend on?

I won’t ever tell you

Although, I suppose you can email me if you are really that concerned. I am sure a 4am me would be more than happy to tell you the real story.


Do you take blog post requests?

Yes, but I may or may not decide to write about your desired topic if I feel like it’s too personal, gross etc.


How do I follow you?

If you look me up on Facebook, search for me and find out where I live; you’re probably on the right lines.

But if you mean on WordPress, you can sign up via email or by WordPress account if you want to get annoying pings every few months.

Or you can find me on Twitter and get my updates (plus added extra plus plus bonus funny stuff)


Do you have children?



Are you single?



Do you actually look like you are on drugs?

Well now that mocks are over, the look has somewhat progressed to a more recovering-alcoholic kinda vibe. It’s going well. 2 days clean.


Favourite quote?

“Grab her by the pus-” (only joking) (#pray4america)

It’s probably these fine words by Henry Fielding

– ‘love and scandals are the best sweeteners of tea’


Did you make up most of these questions?

Well, thanks for making it awkward.


Have a great week :)))


Best wishes,


twitter – @sofiamackeith
insta – @sofiamackeith


The Sponsored Lie

It’s a new year and I feel like I need to expose my lies.

First up: The Sponsored Lie

Growing up, I was always told to be charitable and respectful to those who have less than me. So when I was about 8 I decided to run 5km (non-stop) around my road for a charity called Shelter.

I can’t exactly remember if it was my idea or my parents, but for perhaps a couple of months I violently pressured family members and neighbours to sponsor me. Overall I, more or less, received £250.

Before I go into the details I would like to add that I was more sporty and active than I am now, making this run for 8 year old me slightly more realistic (for those of you who probably don’t believe me)

So soon the day arrived; my grandparents came down from Suffolk, my siblings were forced to stand on the road looking warm and supportive, a couple of neighbours actually went out of their front door and it looked like I would raise a tiny sum of money for charity.

However, what my parents and the donors didn’t know was that I was a little bitch and probably failed the non-stop run and that they should have been refunded entirely for their minuscule donations. *Something I feel incredibly bad about by the way

5km equates to about 10 laps around my road and apparently that was very difficult for active me.

The first 4 went great. I can’t remember, but I’m pretty sure that they went well. The next 6? Well, they were crap.

You see, as I struggled my way through the 5th lap, passing my grandparents smiling and clapping for me, I wanted to collapse. I wanted to collapse and have a nice bath filled with all of the lush crap I used to like (and still like tbh).
But I couldn’t do that, because people had paid pennies to see me die. Sorry, I mean run 5km.

Therefore, I came up with a plan.

Whilst dragging my legs around my road I noticed that outside one house was a very nice and large bright red fence, open and resting on a large portion of the road; perfect for blocking their neighbours’ view of their house. And perfect for dying 8 year olds to have a 1 minute rest.

Sorry about that.

So whilst I ran around the highway of hell, I used to take small breaks of 1-5 minutes rest. Making the non-stop 5km run I did for charity utter, utter tripe.

Although I thought that this technique worked, I realise now that it would have been so stupid for onlookers, as one minute I would have been flailing enormously, and the next I would have veered off to the right and hid behind this fence; making me entirely visible to the road ahead of me, due to the fact that only one side of the gate was open, and that the road turns from that person’s house, with no hedges blocking the view. Not only this, but the people behind me probably knew what I was doing as well, as they would have most definitely seen me pull a Houdini.

Well done Sofia, well done.

Thankfully, my house is opposite the hiding place I used to have, so my parents never actually found out; meaning that they still love me. I think.

This said, I am pretty sure that they knew something was up; the 5th lap included a 5 minute break and it was, as I passed the house, that they started bringing out refreshments and asking me if I was alright. *Which I was; I had just started to breathe again.

10 laps completed, and 5km later, I was done.

Everyone was proud; or pretended that they were; they said their congratulations and gave me warm embraces, and I repaid  them with sweat and a fat lie, both of which I have never forgotten or can remove from that one pink t-shirt. (Jk)

I mean, I did round up money for homeless children, but I have been riddled with the guilt for many years. I think about it when I go to bed at night, to when I sit in boring Head of Year assemblies.

So I suppose the ending of this would be me announcing that because of the trauma that this has caused me, I will do it again, but this time, properly. However, in my typical style, I won’t because it’s unrealistic due to the fact that even running up the stairs gives me a stitch, let alone running laps and laps around my bumpy and treacherous road. Perhaps I will do it again in the more distant future when I’m not half-dead from my mock exams.

Or perhaps I will just have a sponsored netflix marathon.

Yeah, that sounds good.

That sounds better.


Best wishes,