Ways in which I am becoming scarily like my mother :: 06:33 PM :: easyjetsetter

I drink a glass of wine most nights. It's mostly to keep flatmate Jack company with his port, but still. Most nights.

I ignore best before dates. It is only a matter of time before I start groping in the bin for items other people have discarded because there's a bit of mould on it ("if you cut it off it's perfectly all right dear")

I swim breaststroke really slowly with my head held above water. My excuse is that I never learned how to breathe properly while swimming. Her's is her hair.

When about to leave a place, I dither around and call it good sense. When someone else is dithering, I call it faffing. This pisses off the someone else.

I regularly use the phrase "I'm not paying £2.50 for a packaged sandwich!" and take bags of nuts and raisins and fruit on long journeys.

I apologise for using ready-made food items. To give the impression that I regularly make it from scratch.

I impart too much information to complete strangers. Example: when evil sister appeared in the papers yesterday as 'a tory worker' and a coworker commented that she looked nothing like me, I said "Oh, she's the pretty one, all tall and skinny because my mother smoked when she was pregnant with me to avoid having another big baby like her."

Open plan offices are not the place to make such revelations. There was a brief moment of silence.