Now, I like to think that I’m a pretty easy-going person. I’m the live and let live type. Most of the things that people, outside of my immediate family, do don’t bother me a bit. There are some exceptions. For example, if something affects my day to day life in an annoying or unpleasant way, you might find me getting a bit irritated. A perfect example of this would be the person going through the checkout ahead of me at the supermarket (or similar), who finds it necessary to slowly and meticulously pack away the contents of their wallet, put wallet away in handbag, count all their shopping bags, check their receipt, all while a big fat long queue is waiting because the checkout chick will not begin checking out anyone else until the person moves on. That person annoys me, so I guess not totally easy going.

Okay, also, the person who uses those annoying “Baby on Board” signs in their car. That person, I mean, of course I’m driving along thinking, “who to ram with my car, who to ram with my car” but seeing that sign stops me at the last second and I rethink my way of life. NO. Moron. Those signs are stupid. So, um, that person annoys me.

Lets see, what else, no, really, I can’t think of anything else. Oh yes, hang on, there is one little thing. You see, in Australia (and in England actually), it is popular to refer to the eighth letter of the alphabet [h] as “haitch”. Now, this one, this one really does bother me. In fact, it drives me round the bend. I’ve considered having t-shirts made that read “h not h” or “aitch not haitch” when I’m feeling more generous and like I should really spell it out for people (hehe, I’m hilarious, I know). I have to fight the urge to correct people all the time. I know it shouldn’t, I know it’s a little thing. I’m sure that the people making this mistake believe that this is the way it is said. I mean, I know I don’t know everything, I’m sure I say clueless stupid things all the time and go on with my life, never knowing I’ve been an arse. I just can’t help myself though, it drives me bonkers.

I have considered buying a dictionary so that I can shove the entry for “aitch” in their faces. Or directing people to look it up, research it for themselves, when I correct them. However, I don’t want to appear as though I am a know-it-all wanker pants, so I don’t correct. I have been doing a good job of stifling my rage up until recently. What changed recently??

Poss.

Poss has come home recently (actually I think it started back in London) saying “haitch”. Beefcake also finds it very annoying. We’ve both made it clear to her that no such letter exists. She has called me “obsessed”. She has said “It dosen’t matter Muuuuuuuuuuuum!”. But it does matter. It matters and now it is war.

I declare war on all haitch sayers. I will reclaim my daughter from your filthy ranks. She will no more be corrupted by your unwholesome influence.

Aitch will prevail.