But now I find out, actually Dad and I are going down on Friday, see grandparents and go to France on Saturday and go to Canterbury on Sunday. And we'll be staying with one of his friends. I hate this, I hate staying at other people's houses. I find it difficult enough to spend the night at my friends, someone I know. I don't know his friend. (I recognise the name, and I think I've met him and probably knew him at some point but it's been so long.)
And I'm pissed off with them for springing this on my just days before and not giving me a choice. They didn't tell me what was going on and now I'm trapped and have to go. Why couldn't they have said "this is what we'll be doing, do you want to come?" And I've have said "fuck no. No way."
I hate this. I'm panicking already and I'm not even there yet. I can't do this. And yes, I know I'm being pathetic and ridiculous. After all, who has a problem staying at someone's house for a couple of nights?
Well, ME. I do. I have a huge problem with it.