Oh I see, we're going to play the silent treatment eh? Yeah, well two can play this game. And just when I thought there might be a possibility that we wouldn't need to sit in frozen silence for the whole trip. But hey, if it means I don't need to communicate with her, I will sit here for the entire flight and not move, no matter how much my legs cramp.

     I realise, too late, that I'm spending an awful lot of time thinking about this cynical bitch. This season of Masterchef is far more important than her. A close second is the impending thought of having to consume a vegetarian meal (I won't deny it, I think a lot about what I eat). For now though, Masterchef. I'm watching a special episode where the contestants have to make a meal off a childhood memory. One of the contestants has just broken down, overwhelmed by emotion at the memories the recipe triggers.

     I can't help myself - before I know it, I feel the corners of my eyes begin to burn as I watch the judges taste the food. By the end of the episode, I register a few wet marks on my face. Goddamn. Crying in public, seriously? I applaud myself. This is a new low. 

     Surreptitiously, I attempt to wipe the tears off my face, under the pretext of scratching an itch. At least the cabin lights are a little dim.