Could we have the freedom with less arse flashing please

History we moved on from gender to race. And nobody had much to say and I tried not to rant too much about German nationalism in the nineteenth century but I did write it so damn much in 6th year. Only productive thing I did that year. And then one guy with the smuggest, shit-eating grin pipes up about nationalism being a load of crap and Alex Sammond being an "idiot who pandered to those who wanted England to lose and loved Braveheart" and I kind of lost it. I mean ok, independence is not that big of a deal these days and we're not being oppressed or anything but I'd call myself a nationalist and I couldn't give a shit if England won the world cup and I think our national anthem is a disgrace. I admit I voted SNP for a laugh, to shake things up. I want a revolution. Politics are getting stale. But he argued that nationalist was a movement away from a democratic government which is a fucking joke unless he voted in Gordon Brown because I certainly didn't nor did the rest of this dozy country. And the absolute best bit? He was wearing a Scotland rugby top and apologised in that awful way guys do when it comes to sport to the English guy next to him cause I dunno they lost? I don't watch rugby. I kind of lost it and just laughed at him.

Despite just ranting angrily and amusedly at the smug bastard and mouthy girl with badly dyed ginger hair I got murmurs of approval when I argued that it wasn't about England, it was about being Scottish and separate from Britain since, despite what mouthy told me, I have never called myself British. And these murmurs came from the quiet gothy girl with dreadlocks who would be quirkily gorgeous if her mouth wasn't quite so big and awkward looking and from the guy who isn't very subtle with the reading of my breasts (which is my own fault for wearing tshirts with writing on them and I made a point of stretching out when I caught his eye making him look rather uncomfortable).

The result of arguing so much? My tutor knows my name. Apart from the Polish girl's name (Marta, seems every girl I meet from Poland is called Marta) mine is the only one she remembers. It's petty but it's also pretty bloody awesome.