Diary of a Winchester Lady: Bins, Black Bags and Bitching

Silently I waited with my back against the wall while intermittently leaning forward to look through the glass pane in the door then quickly leaning back against the wall so no one could see me. I was fully prepared to wait as long as necessary, with a go-ahead bar and a bottle of water in my handbag to keep me going, although I am certain my rage was more than enough sustenance. I was on the hunt, in a prime position to stalk my prey and ready to pounce as soon as I had her in my sights.

Then I spotted her, an elegant creature, one of those girls who looks like a top shop catalogue has thrown up on her.  Poor thing, so easily started when I flung the hall door open. She scrambled to find her keys, but it was too late, I knew she was there, she knew I had been waiting for her and she knew exactly what I wanted.

Even though we both knew we disliked each other and were about to have an argument, we acted terribly British and started a sequence of polite small talk. My mouth said “Hiya Natasha*, you alright?” but my eyes said “I am about to crush you with my verbal steam roller of rage.”

I have a bad habit of being polite to people that I actually have a valid reason to be rude to. I remember one weekend when I was backing home in Guernsey, and a women on a horse trotted out of a side road completely ignoring the yellow line. I very nearly crashed my little Hyundai into her horse and even I was surprised that I managed to stop in time on the wet road. I was absolutely furious, especially when the woman looked at me and mouthed “Sorry” while smiling. In my mind I said “Sorry? You’re sorry? So you bloody should be you nearly just killed us both you absolute idiot” but what actually came out was “No worries” as I smiled at her and calmly drove away.

Well this was not going one of those moments; Natasha was going to get a double dose of *** You may be wondering what she actually did to make me so mad, well there were a mixture of ingredients which formed my rage cake. The first was that she had put a note under my door stating that everyone had given her £2 (a total of £22) to get toilet paper and bin bags (which are provided free by the university), she had made a bin rota even though she knew most of us had agreed to only use the bins in our rooms and take responsibility for them ourselves, and finally, and perhaps most annoying she had print off signs for the bathroom which included:

“Throw the toilet rolls away when they are finished. The bin is right NEXT to you”

“Flush the toilet. Girl’s lets not give the boys nightmares”

I think the fact that she had missed the apostrophe in ‘let’s’ was what finally pushed me over the edge.

When I confronted her about the fact she had taken money for items that we are given for free, and that she is the only one that uses the bin, she seemed quite taken aback, as if she could not understand what my problem actually was. After my rant she backed down and claimed it had all been a misunderstanding. This was not particularly satisfactory so before leaving I calmly said “ok this was a misunderstanding – kind of like your grasp of basic grammar. Sort your apostrophe out.”

Had I had more time to think of parting words I am certain I would not have made myself sound like such a nerd; oh well, live a learn.

*Name changed