A choice between being stranded on an island, dropped into an unknown forest or locked in a strange building. Well if I was the kiss-ass crazy self survival girl that I sometimes imagine being then the forest would be a walk in the park. However, in reality I don’t even like going outdoors if I can help it. I don’t mind the odd walk now and again, so long as it is really nice weather and my dog is with me. Read as walking along right beside my leg because I’m paranoid about strangers… and wild animals… most domestically animals as well. I’m not that brave about other living creatures and dead stuff scares me as well so outdoors is pretty much the enemy from the word go. Did I mention I grew up on a farm? Okay, I might be exaggerating things a bit. I will admit that most of the time dead animals creep me out, but if I was starving to death I at least have the theory about catching and skinning rabbits ready for spit-roasting tucked away in my head. If I would actually manage to do it is another matter entirely. The rabbits would probably hide in the undergrowth mocking my pathetic attempts at survival right from the point go so ‘lost in an unknown forest’ would most likely be tantamount to death and I quite like living. It has its amusing moments.
As for the island, I’m allergic to seawater. I have now given up on paddling at the beach since doing so leaves me itching at least for the rest of the day. However! Britain is technically an island. [I have literally just remember that, and I mean England,Wales and Scotland. Ireland is lovely and so are all those little islands floating around the edges of us, but if it isn’t too much trouble to the kidnappers then I’d quite like to be dropped off somewhere near Shropshire. Along the Welsh border if that would be at all possible.] So I’m going to pick island. Just make sure it’s Britain.
Strange building? No. Just No. Way to many variables and too many definitions of strange.