Written 27 December 2018
If he comes anywhere near me I'm going to hit him. Smug git.
Always banging on about how wonderful his life is. Urgh, seriously, though, that face. How is he from the same blood as me? His wife is so beautiful as well. Only with him for the money, surely?
“How about you, Colin, where are you planning on holidaying next year?” Holidaying? He means going on holiday, right? What an absolute basic budget bitch. God I hate him. He's waiting for me to say somewhere shitty so he can be condescending. Mums looking at me. What's she trying to say? Fuck it, I'm gonna lie.
“Three weeks in Mauritius in February, summering in the Italian Lakes in July and will likely go to Berlin, Budapest and Bologna in between.” damnit. I said Italy twice. Got trapped by alliteration. His eyebrows appear to have disappeared into his head. Mum looks embarrassed.
“Wow, sounds amazing. And how are you affording all that?” smirking. Stupid family. If you asked anyone else that they'd tell you to fuck off.
“My boyfriend is paying for it.” Mum is hiding her face now.
“Oh, I didn't. . .”
“Well I am.”
Silence now. That shut the smug prick up. How long do we sit here? Are they going to attempt to at least pretend to be happy for me? Doesn't seem like it. They knew. I didn’t hide it. They're all looking anywhere but at me now. I've only had 2 glasses of wine. I can drive.
“Well, it's been a pleasure. See you next year.” With every will in the world I hope I won't. Smug twat. God, I hate him.