Me and George

In the first day of living in Doulton, everyone probably suffers the confusion of mistaking someone else's door for theirs, and has to stop themselves from going in. Not me and George. George Woodward lived in 63 and I lived in 62. In my first morning after freshers saturday, I strolled to the kitchen to make some toast, I enjoyed that toast, and went about going back to my room for a well earned nap. Only things didn't quite happen that way. After a simple turn left from the kitchen, confusion instantly began to grow, and within a matter seconds, I had walked into George's room, with a confused, naked boy looking back at me, as if to say "why have you just walked in to my room?"
I lived with that shame for weeks, until one day, all my trauma was relieved. I was sitting in my room, enjoying a lovely day watchin girls play lacrosse outside my window, when a strange noise occured. That noise was my door opening, with, guess who? Thats right, with George standing there, uttering the words "this isn't my room"
If me and George ever lived together again, whose to say we wouldn't walk into other peoples rooms again. All that can be said, is that kids, dont do drugs.