So, I have produced a critical fail on blogging for the last month for various trivial reasons. Thus, I shall do a quick summary of things to date.
- Laura and Boydy moved in a fortnight ago, and it is working well. Boydy actually showed up and moved in (despite never successfully viewing the flat beforehand) and now job-hunts whilst living off ketchup with bacon, and consuming enough cheese per week to build a moon (or a giant, spherical space-station, if you please). Laura rages at the sewing machine for ruining the half-finished beanbags whilst waiting for her job to commence and filling the fridge with home-made soups. We have made two trips to Ikea and are now two bookshelves up, as well as a pot plant named 'Spike'. The flat actually feels slightly lived in now, which is nice.
- I have a job. No, it's not in the media; I've failed a number of media-related interviews in the last month despite my best efforts and am currently trying to decide if it's worth the hassle. In the meantime, I have a job at an 'outdoors' shop (like Blacks, only more upmarket) just off Oxford Street. It'll do for the now, but it's obviously not where I really want to be, so I'm not entirely content. Today I was asked to rearrange and re-label the entire stockroom, and thus spent all day in an oversized cupboard huffing meths as a result. I felt like a bit of a tramp as I grinned at everyone, somewhat off my face and covered in ink smudges. Fun times. But yeah, I don't know where I want to go, career-wise, so I'm struggling a bit on that front.
- I've seen a few of the Nottingham bunch recently; Rose-Heather prompted a trip to the Horniman Museum in South London, which was nice. I didn't know it was going to be full of stuffed animals but hey, there was a huge walrus (sans bucket) and tiny freaky lizards, so I was happy. Good to see Peter S and Lizzy as well. Then Simon and Leeanne joined the fray for a couple of days, during which I accidentally bought an Xbox 360, went to a shop called 'Pentonville Rubber' and had a nice meal in Chinatown. Yes, I did have sweet-and-sour chicken. So there.
Um, beyond that, I can't think of much that's significant. Sorry. But I shall try and get back to updating once a week again. :) It's my birthday in about a fortnight, so I shall likely return to Nottingham for a suggested party on the 3rd. Hopefully I shall see a few of you there.
Twenty-one. Wow, I swear I do not feel that young.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Thurs 20/08/09 – 21:16
So, I should very definitely be tidying away all the junk I've brought down from the familial home and washing out all the new pans/crockery/etc. that I coerced my much beloved mother into buying so that I didn't have to continue cooking lasagne in a mixing bowl, particularly seeing as the landlords are coming round early doors to give me sofas tomorrow (Huzzah!). Instead, I've decided it's blog time. My priorities are fine and dandy, thank you very much.
But I blather. This week in reverse order. I have, evidently, been back up to the Midlands this week. Back to sunny Melton Mowbray and the piles and piles of stuff lying throughout the house that were dumped there when I decamped from Nottingham. See, I wasn't sure that I would be staying in this flat past the end of this month when I 'moved', as it were; I thought it might be a temporary solution to allow me to do the work experience. Thus, I packed light (considering how much stuff I suddenly appear to own), and left most of it in Melton. So, when my car needed MOT-ing, I was summoned north (using remarkably little blood and cheap, pink chalk) to tidy up. Great. That was Saturday evening to Wednesday morning. Of course, if you know me you can guess how much I actually cleared up and how much time I spent with mum in tow being bought random household goods and getting my dry-cleaning done. I am a terrible daughter sometimes. Still, it was nice to see the family and get food cooked for me again for a few days. I'm still reeling from the fact that the car somehow passed it's MOT, with only a light-bulb needing replacing (yes, the 'rave indicator' is no more. I miss it already.); I was certain I'd have to get the train back.
But, a functioning car meant that I got to drop in on some Leicester friends on both Tuesday evening (KDF was too problematic, alas) and on the way to the M1 on Wednesday. We ate chips and played obscure, if fun, board games. What a wild life I lead! Ah, but it is pleasant.
Laura accompanied me on the drive north on Saturday, flying back from Toyko and her Big Japanese Adventure on Thursday night to Heathrow and needing somewhere to stay. Of course, she's moving in at the end of next week (Yay people! I remember people.), but currently I think she counts as guest/squatter, seeing as I'm the only rent-payer. Friday saw us slumming round Soho and Covent garden (I spend far too much time there, I have decided). Saturday lunch was held in the lovely Waterlow Park just down the road, with sandwiches at Lauderdale House. The park is really nice, I must confess. I shall have to become a writer, thus allowing sit about amongst the wildflowers looking pensive. Sounds like a good career plan?
Speaking of careers, my trips (I went there three times, in the end, to apply for various jobs as they appeared) to Soho have proved semi-successful in that I have a job interview tomorrow morning! Huzzah! I shall knock back the Sudafed and coffee before I go and be the happiest, most enthusiastic damned runner they have ever had the misfortune to meet. My personal tutor always said I was going to have to get good at faking enthusiasm (I'm not sure what profession she thought I was going for – I'm sure she wasn't aware of 'Plan B'), but why bother when there's caffeine to be had? But seriously, I shall be giving it my all. If it fails, I shall cave and go get a real job for a bit. Inspired by Tina, I'm eyeing up shops selling outdoor stuff (like Blacks or suchlike). I do like outdoor pursuits, even if I rarely do them these days (I imagine a few of you have noticed me planning a hiking trip to Scandinavia next year. It will be awesome, I have decided, especially if a few people decide to join me).
In conclusion: tomorrow should bring happiness somehow, either through the medium of sofas or employment. Maybe both (Double Happiness!). I shall keep you posted, of course. I will go wash up and hoover and make beds now. Then I shall bake a cake and evolve into DomestoRny! Shazzam!
But I blather. This week in reverse order. I have, evidently, been back up to the Midlands this week. Back to sunny Melton Mowbray and the piles and piles of stuff lying throughout the house that were dumped there when I decamped from Nottingham. See, I wasn't sure that I would be staying in this flat past the end of this month when I 'moved', as it were; I thought it might be a temporary solution to allow me to do the work experience. Thus, I packed light (considering how much stuff I suddenly appear to own), and left most of it in Melton. So, when my car needed MOT-ing, I was summoned north (using remarkably little blood and cheap, pink chalk) to tidy up. Great. That was Saturday evening to Wednesday morning. Of course, if you know me you can guess how much I actually cleared up and how much time I spent with mum in tow being bought random household goods and getting my dry-cleaning done. I am a terrible daughter sometimes. Still, it was nice to see the family and get food cooked for me again for a few days. I'm still reeling from the fact that the car somehow passed it's MOT, with only a light-bulb needing replacing (yes, the 'rave indicator' is no more. I miss it already.); I was certain I'd have to get the train back.
But, a functioning car meant that I got to drop in on some Leicester friends on both Tuesday evening (KDF was too problematic, alas) and on the way to the M1 on Wednesday. We ate chips and played obscure, if fun, board games. What a wild life I lead! Ah, but it is pleasant.
Laura accompanied me on the drive north on Saturday, flying back from Toyko and her Big Japanese Adventure on Thursday night to Heathrow and needing somewhere to stay. Of course, she's moving in at the end of next week (Yay people! I remember people.), but currently I think she counts as guest/squatter, seeing as I'm the only rent-payer. Friday saw us slumming round Soho and Covent garden (I spend far too much time there, I have decided). Saturday lunch was held in the lovely Waterlow Park just down the road, with sandwiches at Lauderdale House. The park is really nice, I must confess. I shall have to become a writer, thus allowing sit about amongst the wildflowers looking pensive. Sounds like a good career plan?
Speaking of careers, my trips (I went there three times, in the end, to apply for various jobs as they appeared) to Soho have proved semi-successful in that I have a job interview tomorrow morning! Huzzah! I shall knock back the Sudafed and coffee before I go and be the happiest, most enthusiastic damned runner they have ever had the misfortune to meet. My personal tutor always said I was going to have to get good at faking enthusiasm (I'm not sure what profession she thought I was going for – I'm sure she wasn't aware of 'Plan B'), but why bother when there's caffeine to be had? But seriously, I shall be giving it my all. If it fails, I shall cave and go get a real job for a bit. Inspired by Tina, I'm eyeing up shops selling outdoor stuff (like Blacks or suchlike). I do like outdoor pursuits, even if I rarely do them these days (I imagine a few of you have noticed me planning a hiking trip to Scandinavia next year. It will be awesome, I have decided, especially if a few people decide to join me).
In conclusion: tomorrow should bring happiness somehow, either through the medium of sofas or employment. Maybe both (Double Happiness!). I shall keep you posted, of course. I will go wash up and hoover and make beds now. Then I shall bake a cake and evolve into DomestoRny! Shazzam!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Tues 11/08/09 – 19.04
I return cured! Huzzah!
Alright, so it wasn't that serious, but it was unpleasant. Apparently I had a bout of the marvellously-named 'Labyrinthitis' (my Bowie-related jokes were sadly lost on the doctor), though my case wasn't long-term. Thank god. So, after being made to spin round until I fell over in the GP's office, I was shipped off with some tablets that were, for all intents and purposes, travel sickness tablets. As if I didn't feel and sound pathetic enough already. The theory is to treat the symptoms whilst the virus clears itself up, seeing as they don't know quite what causes it. Still, it did the job and it only took a week to completely cure so I'm dead chuffed.
Last week was a week that largely consisted of doing naff all, unfortunately, and sitting about the lounge (still sofa-less) frantically patching together my re-enactment kit into a wearable state for the weekend. In this venture I was largely successful, but I shall return to the weekend momentarily.
The tedium was broken on Tuesday evening by the appearance of former-house-mate Leeanne who came over to drop some stuff off that I'd left in Nottingham and to have dinner. She didn't get food poisoning, so this went well. She stayed the night and Wednesday lunchtime saw us heading over to Marylebone to rendezvous with Tall Peter for a jaunt to the Wallace Collection. The collection was pretty groovy, comprising of rooms full of charmingly gaudy décor, large paintings and shiny furniture. More importantly, though, the back half seems to be filled with a pretty large collection of arms and armour. This is why we went, I'll be honest. There is some rather sexy (if you're into that sort of thing) stuff in there, and I do recommend it to any of my more stabby friends. I enjoyed it thoroughly, even if I was still feeling decidedly out of it at that point. We then sauntered up in the general direction of Leeanne's train (detouring via Baker Street, to placate the Holmes geeks in the party) to lounge about in Regent's Park for a while before she had to go. I have determined that next time I go to said park, I shall take bread for the ducks and go for a jaunt on one of the pedalos and it will be awesome. On the tube back I fell asleep, and whilst I woke up in time for Archway I felt so fatigued that I got the bus home (instead of walking for 15 minutes) and promptly fell asleep on my bed fully clothed for two hours the moment I got in. Still, fun times.
Not much happened until again until Friday, where I had some minor trials involving the job centre being useless and then embarked upon my epic journey to Sutton Hoo. Said journey was prefixed, I feel obliged to note, by a very surreal trip to the Total petrol station in Highgate. On the outside, it has a 4-pump, 1980s style forecourt. Inside the terraced house that seemed to house the till was a rack of chocolate, some bottles of oil, a couple of A-Zs and cake. Lots of cake. Racks of cakes. It was like an organic farm shop in there. No Ginsters here, Highgate only does organic, it seems. I commented to the man that it was a pretty weird filling station. His response: “Weird how?” I left. Without cake. Sad times.
So, it took me two hours and fifteen minutes to get to Peter's in Surrey when it should have taken about an hour less. But I did opt to travel round London at 16:30 rush hour on a Friday, so I suppose it's my own silly fault. The first hour I averaged 20mph, the next half an hour 10mph. Finding a parking space on the M25 is easy. :) Nonetheless, I got there, took a sneak-preview of their flat (vair nice) ate all offered provisions and we headed off. We got there at 22:30 (after some debate around the Dartford Crossing about turning round to go pick up forgotten stuff), happily missing the erecting of tents and I was in the correct position for sleeping by midnight. I barely slept, of course, but that's just how the first night of camping goes in my experience (though it might have helped if I'd taken a sleeping bag so I wasn't constantly shivering. Ah well).
Saturday and Sunday were, by and large, fun. I got sunburned (my face now clashes with my henna-d hair, dammit) and was entirely too warm in the period layers of linen and wool in the blazing sunshine, but I figured I was better off than the guys who were fighting. They effectively have to wear a duvet under their chain-mail whilst swinging lumps of steel around and carrying a lump of wood on one arm. Nobody passed out, despite this, which was really rather impressive. I got to play water-carrier, learnt how to spin wool, helped cook, finished my cloak, pretended to know stuff at the public and acquired the fabric to make a cooler linen overdress. Considering I had naff all to do, the days passed quickly. Even so, I was exhausted on Saturday night and so crashed out not long after 11 whilst everyone else went to sing songs with some Vikings, which sounded like fun as I promptly fell asleep.
The drive back was much like the drive there, again full of queues (“A12, southbound. There are nine miles of stationary traffic in the place you're driving into.”) and ensuing scenic detours. After dropping off Peter back in surrey I ran out of sugar and crashed out, however, very nearly driving off the road twice about ten minutes from home on the way back. Falling asleep at the wheel is not sexy, kids. I managed to get back, though, somehow and didn't wake up until 13:30 yesterday afternoon, which was great.
So, that's us up to speed, tedious as it was. Tomorrow morning I am donning waistcoat to go heckle some post-production companies in person about jobs. Yes, tomorrow I am going to Soho to beg for work. My, how classy this industry is.
Alright, so it wasn't that serious, but it was unpleasant. Apparently I had a bout of the marvellously-named 'Labyrinthitis' (my Bowie-related jokes were sadly lost on the doctor), though my case wasn't long-term. Thank god. So, after being made to spin round until I fell over in the GP's office, I was shipped off with some tablets that were, for all intents and purposes, travel sickness tablets. As if I didn't feel and sound pathetic enough already. The theory is to treat the symptoms whilst the virus clears itself up, seeing as they don't know quite what causes it. Still, it did the job and it only took a week to completely cure so I'm dead chuffed.
Last week was a week that largely consisted of doing naff all, unfortunately, and sitting about the lounge (still sofa-less) frantically patching together my re-enactment kit into a wearable state for the weekend. In this venture I was largely successful, but I shall return to the weekend momentarily.
The tedium was broken on Tuesday evening by the appearance of former-house-mate Leeanne who came over to drop some stuff off that I'd left in Nottingham and to have dinner. She didn't get food poisoning, so this went well. She stayed the night and Wednesday lunchtime saw us heading over to Marylebone to rendezvous with Tall Peter for a jaunt to the Wallace Collection. The collection was pretty groovy, comprising of rooms full of charmingly gaudy décor, large paintings and shiny furniture. More importantly, though, the back half seems to be filled with a pretty large collection of arms and armour. This is why we went, I'll be honest. There is some rather sexy (if you're into that sort of thing) stuff in there, and I do recommend it to any of my more stabby friends. I enjoyed it thoroughly, even if I was still feeling decidedly out of it at that point. We then sauntered up in the general direction of Leeanne's train (detouring via Baker Street, to placate the Holmes geeks in the party) to lounge about in Regent's Park for a while before she had to go. I have determined that next time I go to said park, I shall take bread for the ducks and go for a jaunt on one of the pedalos and it will be awesome. On the tube back I fell asleep, and whilst I woke up in time for Archway I felt so fatigued that I got the bus home (instead of walking for 15 minutes) and promptly fell asleep on my bed fully clothed for two hours the moment I got in. Still, fun times.
Not much happened until again until Friday, where I had some minor trials involving the job centre being useless and then embarked upon my epic journey to Sutton Hoo. Said journey was prefixed, I feel obliged to note, by a very surreal trip to the Total petrol station in Highgate. On the outside, it has a 4-pump, 1980s style forecourt. Inside the terraced house that seemed to house the till was a rack of chocolate, some bottles of oil, a couple of A-Zs and cake. Lots of cake. Racks of cakes. It was like an organic farm shop in there. No Ginsters here, Highgate only does organic, it seems. I commented to the man that it was a pretty weird filling station. His response: “Weird how?” I left. Without cake. Sad times.
So, it took me two hours and fifteen minutes to get to Peter's in Surrey when it should have taken about an hour less. But I did opt to travel round London at 16:30 rush hour on a Friday, so I suppose it's my own silly fault. The first hour I averaged 20mph, the next half an hour 10mph. Finding a parking space on the M25 is easy. :) Nonetheless, I got there, took a sneak-preview of their flat (vair nice) ate all offered provisions and we headed off. We got there at 22:30 (after some debate around the Dartford Crossing about turning round to go pick up forgotten stuff), happily missing the erecting of tents and I was in the correct position for sleeping by midnight. I barely slept, of course, but that's just how the first night of camping goes in my experience (though it might have helped if I'd taken a sleeping bag so I wasn't constantly shivering. Ah well).
Saturday and Sunday were, by and large, fun. I got sunburned (my face now clashes with my henna-d hair, dammit) and was entirely too warm in the period layers of linen and wool in the blazing sunshine, but I figured I was better off than the guys who were fighting. They effectively have to wear a duvet under their chain-mail whilst swinging lumps of steel around and carrying a lump of wood on one arm. Nobody passed out, despite this, which was really rather impressive. I got to play water-carrier, learnt how to spin wool, helped cook, finished my cloak, pretended to know stuff at the public and acquired the fabric to make a cooler linen overdress. Considering I had naff all to do, the days passed quickly. Even so, I was exhausted on Saturday night and so crashed out not long after 11 whilst everyone else went to sing songs with some Vikings, which sounded like fun as I promptly fell asleep.
The drive back was much like the drive there, again full of queues (“A12, southbound. There are nine miles of stationary traffic in the place you're driving into.”) and ensuing scenic detours. After dropping off Peter back in surrey I ran out of sugar and crashed out, however, very nearly driving off the road twice about ten minutes from home on the way back. Falling asleep at the wheel is not sexy, kids. I managed to get back, though, somehow and didn't wake up until 13:30 yesterday afternoon, which was great.
So, that's us up to speed, tedious as it was. Tomorrow morning I am donning waistcoat to go heckle some post-production companies in person about jobs. Yes, tomorrow I am going to Soho to beg for work. My, how classy this industry is.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Mon 31/07/09 – 18.14
So I suppose I should stop being so desperately lazy and update this. I never was very good at blogs or suchlike. Still, I'll try and cram it all into one nice long post otherwise I'll never catch up. Sorry for the approaching waffle.
Starting from where I left off, the weekend before the one just gone was spent in Nottingham. It was pleasant, if a little odd. The driving took a bit longer than usual due to queues and so on, but the edge was taken off the boredom by Mr Smallridge's company both ways and his growly musical tastes. A quick detour to pick stuff up from Melton on the way there resulted in a gift of too much food and steak for the BBQ from mum. I am particularly enjoying the white stilton with cranberries. Boo yeah.
The BBQ itself was good fun. I broke my no-drunkenness bend that I've been on of late and of course was entirely too open and friendly with friends who I wish to keep. Oops. Oh well, I think they'll forgive me. That said, I really shouldn't play 'Never have I ever-' with wine. Happily, my abysmal memory doesn't facilitate my remembering what I or others admitted to. This is most likely a good thing.
The next day was spent clearing out and cleaning my room. The clearing out went remarkably quickly by my standards, possibly as I was keenly aware that I had to get back down to London early enough for Peter to get home before midnight. It was sad to see the house looking so barren, and I still feel pretty guilty about skipping town instead of helping the others clear up the communal spaces. I shall have to make it up to them with wine/whiskey/Xbox stuff or something in the future. But 339 is now very much free of our presence, and it's weird to think that it's no longer home (or even an option for sleeping arrangements), as it were; what with my patchy memory, the great majority of my university memories are based from there.
Still, onwards and upwards. The last week (last in both senses) of work experience got a little silly, with the company introducing a large whiteboard on the office wall documenting what we'd each achieved on it. I was decidedly nonplussed, but it didn't turn into a competition, thankfully. I think this proves what pleasant and laid-back people the other three loggers were. They also asked us to take home DVDs to log if we had to leave early. I did this once then slyly avoided it. Logging at 11pm whilst trying to eat your dinner is pretty shit. But, after going to sign on at the job centre (god, I hate that place already), I got to go sit in on some editing on Wednesday. This involved me sitting and watching the director and a lady who looked like worryingly like Future!Rny stick together and chop videos up on the screen to make the program proper. I found just watching to be quite fun, loser that I am. I guess this is a good thing, seeing as that's the path I'm currently puttering down. I then got shown round the editing facilities by a nice girl who has the kind of job I'm looking for. She was very helpful, and potentially gave me a heads up on a job, which proves that yes, this business is all about who you know.
I followed said job hint up on Saturday (I am so keen) by going round to the company in person and handing them my CV. This achieved (I am far too good at just walking through security measures), I tried to find a Lush to buy some henna. This took me two hours because Google does, apparently, lie about some things. Like shop locations (and bank locations, fuckers. But I'll come back to that). These two hours involved navigating Oxford Street, Regent Street and Bond Street on a Saturday lunchtime. I've got a tactic for dealing with crowds around there now, though; don't go there. I got stuck in a sea of children outside Hamley's toy shop because they were all too enraptured by the wizards duelling to the Pirates Of The Caribbean soundtrack to move their tiny, breakable, underfoot feet down the street. It turns out that Rny when irate and in a hurry does not play well with other children. Nonetheless, I got to a Lush eventually, and looked so utterly dishevelled that they gave me some free samples as a reward for my marathon. I was placated. I am becoming so material. I'll fit right in here in another month or so.
The rest of the weekend was spent lounging about sewing and churning through lots of film & TV, much like the second half of today. However it's been marred somewhat by a lack of cash (no ice-cream for me) and the return of what I shall dub 'Boat-disease'. It basically has been showing up sporadically for a couple of months now and its main symptom sees me stumbling round like I'm on a boat in a storm. Friday was the worst day so far, and saw me fall, entirely unprompted, from my chair in the office sideways into a stack of cardboard boxes. This knocked aforementioned whiteboard off the top of them. I caught it once it bounced off my head, but when I tried to stand up to replace it I dragged the computer halfway across the desk and nearly garrotted myself by still being attached to the PC via headphones round my neck. Marvellous. The others actually wept in hysteria as I tried not to pass out. Then the lovely Glynis untangled me from my mess and gave me celebratory 'You're leaving!' (in a nice way) cake and champagne. Yes, because champagne was going to help. It took a lot of concentration to stay upright until I got home.
For this reason, and because nobody's going to employ someone who can't walk in a straight line, I've spent nearly four hours of today trying to get an appointment with a doctor. Bloody useless all round. Despite there being two practices within half a mile of my flat, I have to go to the one half an hour's walk away because of post codes. I also needed to register, which involved proving my address. I can't, as it turns out, as I've received no mail here and have no tenancy agreement yet. So I figured I'd walk to the bank and get them to print off something like a statement to prove where I live. Cunning, I thought. Hah. After being misdirected to HSBCs that closed a year ago around Archway for nearly an hour I stormed down the Tube to Camden. Apparently they're not allowed to give me a copy of my own address. So I then spent half an hour in an O2 shop changing my address and getting something off them. Back up the Tube, hop on a bus up the hill to the GP's (I was feeling pretty ill by now) and I get there at 12:35. They apparently shut from 12:30 to 13:30. For god's sake, what kind of surgery shuts for an hour in the middle of every day?! And then, after slowly drinking coffee in a pub for 55 minutes and filling out a lengthy registration form, they tell me there's no appointments unless I ring up really early until the 20th. The 20th?! That's over a fortnight away! If you weren't wasting six hours a week eating sandwiches and twiddling your stethoscopes and smiling blithely at people like me swaying outside your locked doors then maybe you'd have a reasonable waiting time! I am pretty pissed off, as you can tell; perhaps I have been spoiled by Cripps' usual 'We've got a slot in 30 minutes'. Still, if I ring them up early tomorrow I may get one within the week. If I don't I may go throw up in their waiting room and shout about swine flu until they see me.
If I'm not sorted soon I anticipate this coming week to be a struggle; Going round to companies I've targeted with a suit and CVs, puttering down to the Wallace Collection, messing about down at the Job Centre, etc. Also, I'm supposed to be going re-enacting at Sutton Hoo come the weekend, which will happily involve over seven hours of driving and an entire lap of the M25 from north London to go north-east because I'm a retard. Unfortunately, I'm not comfortable driving when it feels like the world is rolling from side to side, so fingers crossed they get it sorted.
So, now that the white text on black has given you irritating venetian-blind retina-burn, I'm going to find some more Paracetamol and stagger off to make dinner. Love love.
Starting from where I left off, the weekend before the one just gone was spent in Nottingham. It was pleasant, if a little odd. The driving took a bit longer than usual due to queues and so on, but the edge was taken off the boredom by Mr Smallridge's company both ways and his growly musical tastes. A quick detour to pick stuff up from Melton on the way there resulted in a gift of too much food and steak for the BBQ from mum. I am particularly enjoying the white stilton with cranberries. Boo yeah.
The BBQ itself was good fun. I broke my no-drunkenness bend that I've been on of late and of course was entirely too open and friendly with friends who I wish to keep. Oops. Oh well, I think they'll forgive me. That said, I really shouldn't play 'Never have I ever-' with wine. Happily, my abysmal memory doesn't facilitate my remembering what I or others admitted to. This is most likely a good thing.
The next day was spent clearing out and cleaning my room. The clearing out went remarkably quickly by my standards, possibly as I was keenly aware that I had to get back down to London early enough for Peter to get home before midnight. It was sad to see the house looking so barren, and I still feel pretty guilty about skipping town instead of helping the others clear up the communal spaces. I shall have to make it up to them with wine/whiskey/Xbox stuff or something in the future. But 339 is now very much free of our presence, and it's weird to think that it's no longer home (or even an option for sleeping arrangements), as it were; what with my patchy memory, the great majority of my university memories are based from there.
Still, onwards and upwards. The last week (last in both senses) of work experience got a little silly, with the company introducing a large whiteboard on the office wall documenting what we'd each achieved on it. I was decidedly nonplussed, but it didn't turn into a competition, thankfully. I think this proves what pleasant and laid-back people the other three loggers were. They also asked us to take home DVDs to log if we had to leave early. I did this once then slyly avoided it. Logging at 11pm whilst trying to eat your dinner is pretty shit. But, after going to sign on at the job centre (god, I hate that place already), I got to go sit in on some editing on Wednesday. This involved me sitting and watching the director and a lady who looked like worryingly like Future!Rny stick together and chop videos up on the screen to make the program proper. I found just watching to be quite fun, loser that I am. I guess this is a good thing, seeing as that's the path I'm currently puttering down. I then got shown round the editing facilities by a nice girl who has the kind of job I'm looking for. She was very helpful, and potentially gave me a heads up on a job, which proves that yes, this business is all about who you know.
I followed said job hint up on Saturday (I am so keen) by going round to the company in person and handing them my CV. This achieved (I am far too good at just walking through security measures), I tried to find a Lush to buy some henna. This took me two hours because Google does, apparently, lie about some things. Like shop locations (and bank locations, fuckers. But I'll come back to that). These two hours involved navigating Oxford Street, Regent Street and Bond Street on a Saturday lunchtime. I've got a tactic for dealing with crowds around there now, though; don't go there. I got stuck in a sea of children outside Hamley's toy shop because they were all too enraptured by the wizards duelling to the Pirates Of The Caribbean soundtrack to move their tiny, breakable, underfoot feet down the street. It turns out that Rny when irate and in a hurry does not play well with other children. Nonetheless, I got to a Lush eventually, and looked so utterly dishevelled that they gave me some free samples as a reward for my marathon. I was placated. I am becoming so material. I'll fit right in here in another month or so.
The rest of the weekend was spent lounging about sewing and churning through lots of film & TV, much like the second half of today. However it's been marred somewhat by a lack of cash (no ice-cream for me) and the return of what I shall dub 'Boat-disease'. It basically has been showing up sporadically for a couple of months now and its main symptom sees me stumbling round like I'm on a boat in a storm. Friday was the worst day so far, and saw me fall, entirely unprompted, from my chair in the office sideways into a stack of cardboard boxes. This knocked aforementioned whiteboard off the top of them. I caught it once it bounced off my head, but when I tried to stand up to replace it I dragged the computer halfway across the desk and nearly garrotted myself by still being attached to the PC via headphones round my neck. Marvellous. The others actually wept in hysteria as I tried not to pass out. Then the lovely Glynis untangled me from my mess and gave me celebratory 'You're leaving!' (in a nice way) cake and champagne. Yes, because champagne was going to help. It took a lot of concentration to stay upright until I got home.
For this reason, and because nobody's going to employ someone who can't walk in a straight line, I've spent nearly four hours of today trying to get an appointment with a doctor. Bloody useless all round. Despite there being two practices within half a mile of my flat, I have to go to the one half an hour's walk away because of post codes. I also needed to register, which involved proving my address. I can't, as it turns out, as I've received no mail here and have no tenancy agreement yet. So I figured I'd walk to the bank and get them to print off something like a statement to prove where I live. Cunning, I thought. Hah. After being misdirected to HSBCs that closed a year ago around Archway for nearly an hour I stormed down the Tube to Camden. Apparently they're not allowed to give me a copy of my own address. So I then spent half an hour in an O2 shop changing my address and getting something off them. Back up the Tube, hop on a bus up the hill to the GP's (I was feeling pretty ill by now) and I get there at 12:35. They apparently shut from 12:30 to 13:30. For god's sake, what kind of surgery shuts for an hour in the middle of every day?! And then, after slowly drinking coffee in a pub for 55 minutes and filling out a lengthy registration form, they tell me there's no appointments unless I ring up really early until the 20th. The 20th?! That's over a fortnight away! If you weren't wasting six hours a week eating sandwiches and twiddling your stethoscopes and smiling blithely at people like me swaying outside your locked doors then maybe you'd have a reasonable waiting time! I am pretty pissed off, as you can tell; perhaps I have been spoiled by Cripps' usual 'We've got a slot in 30 minutes'. Still, if I ring them up early tomorrow I may get one within the week. If I don't I may go throw up in their waiting room and shout about swine flu until they see me.
If I'm not sorted soon I anticipate this coming week to be a struggle; Going round to companies I've targeted with a suit and CVs, puttering down to the Wallace Collection, messing about down at the Job Centre, etc. Also, I'm supposed to be going re-enacting at Sutton Hoo come the weekend, which will happily involve over seven hours of driving and an entire lap of the M25 from north London to go north-east because I'm a retard. Unfortunately, I'm not comfortable driving when it feels like the world is rolling from side to side, so fingers crossed they get it sorted.
So, now that the white text on black has given you irritating venetian-blind retina-burn, I'm going to find some more Paracetamol and stagger off to make dinner. Love love.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Thurs 23/07/09 – 21:30
Sleepy. Also, I probably shouldn't be on my laptop. My eyes are burning nastily in my skull from spending eight and a half hours or staring at a screen. Logging has officially lost any charm it may have once possessed. That said, I got to spend all day picking over footage from keyhole surgery (a prostatectomy, to be precise) that was actually rather interesting and not very gory. It was genuinely amazing to see how little blood was involved in the whole thing and how delicate it was. Good stuff, but it does get a little tiring after the first four hours. Then you realise one of the alarms in the operating room sounds like the warning alarm on the original Star Trek. Awesome.
More excitingly, though, I got my fridge today! Yay! I have just turned and am massively over-excited by the prospect of milk and orange juice. Living off non-fridge goods has been surprisingly challenging and has probably not very good for me, though instant, Chinese, imported noodles will always have a place in my cupboard. To celebrate, I went to the Co-op to buy some perishables and spring rolls, but they had run out of the latter, to my dismay. This detour meant that as I left the Co-op, I was greeted by a crack of lightening as the heavens opened. The problem with Highgate – it's high up and thus on a hill. This is normally okay, but in the rain it means that getting home is genuinely like wading uphill through a stream. I had an umbrella, but was nonetheless soaked by horizontal precipitation in about three minutes (I realised that my white linen skirt was something of an error at this point). Still, I shared my ineffectual brolly with a poor, bedraggled lady huddled under a tree (who had just come back from Majorca – hah!) a little further than my flat and returned to jump in the shower having only taken my sandals off to remove the worst of the mud. Fun times.
But anyway, I also have a shiny new dining table and sideboard – I shall have to buy some whiskey and decanters to put in it for high-brow visitors. But yes, the flat is starting to shape up nicely, and once I get a few things from Nottingham at the weekend I shall feel quite at home. Huzzah.
I had a job interview yesterday, which I've not heard back about. She asked me to tell me anything about myself, so I told her that I did German Medieval long-sword fencing. It made an impression, but we'll see whether it's the right sort of one. Still, I have another interview tomorrow for an (unpaid, alas) internship of sorts at another media company, which sounds really interesting. I shall let you know how that goes. In other news, signing on for Jobseeker's allowance is a hassle. I particularly enjoyed trying to explain the difference between loans and bursaries to the woman on the phone. Honestly.
Has anybody been to the beach in Nottingham yet? I saw in the Metro that there's a pool and a few tons of sand in Market Square. Do tell me about it of you have – is it filthy yet? I don't think I'll have time to have a nosey at the weekend. I'm back on Saturday for a house-mate's 21st BBQ (probably in the rain, knowing Tom's British ways), then packing up and shipping out of Derby Road for good. I know I've already left, but I'll be sad to know that it's no longer a housing option. At least the journey won't be too Red Bull-fuelled, as the tallest, gayest Peter will be accompanying me both ways and doubtless be keeping me awake on the road. How inconsiderate. Only kidding, it'll be nice to have the company for a change. I look forward to seeing those who are attending.
And on that note, I'm going to put stuff in the fridge. Home-making tendencies ahoy!
*Flounces off, dispersing scatter-cushions and giggling.*
More excitingly, though, I got my fridge today! Yay! I have just turned and am massively over-excited by the prospect of milk and orange juice. Living off non-fridge goods has been surprisingly challenging and has probably not very good for me, though instant, Chinese, imported noodles will always have a place in my cupboard. To celebrate, I went to the Co-op to buy some perishables and spring rolls, but they had run out of the latter, to my dismay. This detour meant that as I left the Co-op, I was greeted by a crack of lightening as the heavens opened. The problem with Highgate – it's high up and thus on a hill. This is normally okay, but in the rain it means that getting home is genuinely like wading uphill through a stream. I had an umbrella, but was nonetheless soaked by horizontal precipitation in about three minutes (I realised that my white linen skirt was something of an error at this point). Still, I shared my ineffectual brolly with a poor, bedraggled lady huddled under a tree (who had just come back from Majorca – hah!) a little further than my flat and returned to jump in the shower having only taken my sandals off to remove the worst of the mud. Fun times.
But anyway, I also have a shiny new dining table and sideboard – I shall have to buy some whiskey and decanters to put in it for high-brow visitors. But yes, the flat is starting to shape up nicely, and once I get a few things from Nottingham at the weekend I shall feel quite at home. Huzzah.
I had a job interview yesterday, which I've not heard back about. She asked me to tell me anything about myself, so I told her that I did German Medieval long-sword fencing. It made an impression, but we'll see whether it's the right sort of one. Still, I have another interview tomorrow for an (unpaid, alas) internship of sorts at another media company, which sounds really interesting. I shall let you know how that goes. In other news, signing on for Jobseeker's allowance is a hassle. I particularly enjoyed trying to explain the difference between loans and bursaries to the woman on the phone. Honestly.
Has anybody been to the beach in Nottingham yet? I saw in the Metro that there's a pool and a few tons of sand in Market Square. Do tell me about it of you have – is it filthy yet? I don't think I'll have time to have a nosey at the weekend. I'm back on Saturday for a house-mate's 21st BBQ (probably in the rain, knowing Tom's British ways), then packing up and shipping out of Derby Road for good. I know I've already left, but I'll be sad to know that it's no longer a housing option. At least the journey won't be too Red Bull-fuelled, as the tallest, gayest Peter will be accompanying me both ways and doubtless be keeping me awake on the road. How inconsiderate. Only kidding, it'll be nice to have the company for a change. I look forward to seeing those who are attending.
And on that note, I'm going to put stuff in the fridge. Home-making tendencies ahoy!
*Flounces off, dispersing scatter-cushions and giggling.*
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Sun 19/07/09 – 16:27
I must confess that I cannot remember a time when I found myself in a position such as now, where nothing really needs doing. Yes, I need to find a job, hang up the clothes that are still lying on the floor and finish some of the work I've been doing for my dad, but none of it needs to be done immediately. Nonetheless, I might have a prod at all three later.
I still have no job, obviously, but work experience is puttering along nicely and another company has asked if I could do one day a week of work experience for them. I may well take them up on it, because it's slightly more my sort of thing than the current placement. That said, the lovely Glynis (a cheery Scottish lady) has just rung me up to tell me that I'm going to go on a shoot tomorrow in Brixton, which should be interesting. Apparently we're filming the lady whose breast reduction I got to look at in such graphic detail to see how the operation has gone. Boobs ahoy. Lovely. I shall have to leave my prudish side in a cupboard when I go.
London is still proving interesting and quite liveable, though I am getting progressively more concerned about money. Damn. Still, I get generous expenses paid weekly, it turns out, for by my 'employers'. I may need to get a move on with getting a job after all.
The flat is still nice, improved by the fact that I now have a bed! Huzzah! And the internet! Still no fridge, alas, so my diet is largely noodles once again, but I like it. Laura came to visit this weekend (Boydy fell out of a plane and thus couldn't make it or something. What a shock.) and, after traipsing all over south-east London (with Maddy, for some reason) browsing, we have pretty much decided to live here for the now. This makes me happy. So, it should be Boydy, Laura and I living here for at least six months from September, though I'm evidently here already. Now I can bring down some more of my stuff and set up properly. :) I'll let you know if we have a house-warming do.
So yes, Laura stayed over Friday to Saturday, Maddy joined us on Saturday, and Leeanne (abusing my proximity to High Wickham) joined us Saturday, departing today. A right hotchpotch of friends, I tell you. Leeanne got to join us on our jaunt to Clapham for house-hunting, which was probably a bit odd. Then we met up with Peter & Lizzy in Angel for dinner, which was very pleasant. That prompted today's rendezvous, which saw Leeanne, Peter and I trawling through the British Museum looking mainly at stuff from Medieval Europe (I really do love the British Museum. I am such a history geek). It left me really wanting a replica copy of the Lewis Chessmen. One day, I tell you.
Leeanne's midday departure was followed by a brief yomp by Peter and I up to the top of Hampstead Heath (which I'm pretty close to). It turns out it's nice and breezy up there so, inspired by some kite-fliers, I'm going to pick up my kite from home when I nip back to Nottingham next weekend for Tom's 21st/to clear out 339 and have a go at losing it up that hill. It's all excitement, I tell you. Mind you, I'm seriously threatening to go to a re-enactment show at Sutton Hoo in three weeks, so it's amazing how quickly you can waste your week.
Okay, time to go have a power nap; the world is tilting nastily before my eyes. Honestly, my balance is shot – it feels like I'm on a boat half the time at the minute. Maybe it's swine flu. :D
I leave you with a fun game I invented driving back after graduation.
Required: A long stretch of road, a vehicle, a can of Red Bull, loud rock music, worrying fatigue.
Aim:To not fall asleep and crash. See how many miles you can drive whilst holding a swig of Red Bull under your tongue before the burning sensation becomes too painful to continue doing so. Continue until the can is empty, you beat a set target, or the sugar high becomes too intense to drive safely. Red Bull is the recommended energy drink of choice, as it contains the least toxic waste. It's fun. Honest.
I still have no job, obviously, but work experience is puttering along nicely and another company has asked if I could do one day a week of work experience for them. I may well take them up on it, because it's slightly more my sort of thing than the current placement. That said, the lovely Glynis (a cheery Scottish lady) has just rung me up to tell me that I'm going to go on a shoot tomorrow in Brixton, which should be interesting. Apparently we're filming the lady whose breast reduction I got to look at in such graphic detail to see how the operation has gone. Boobs ahoy. Lovely. I shall have to leave my prudish side in a cupboard when I go.
London is still proving interesting and quite liveable, though I am getting progressively more concerned about money. Damn. Still, I get generous expenses paid weekly, it turns out, for by my 'employers'. I may need to get a move on with getting a job after all.
The flat is still nice, improved by the fact that I now have a bed! Huzzah! And the internet! Still no fridge, alas, so my diet is largely noodles once again, but I like it. Laura came to visit this weekend (Boydy fell out of a plane and thus couldn't make it or something. What a shock.) and, after traipsing all over south-east London (with Maddy, for some reason) browsing, we have pretty much decided to live here for the now. This makes me happy. So, it should be Boydy, Laura and I living here for at least six months from September, though I'm evidently here already. Now I can bring down some more of my stuff and set up properly. :) I'll let you know if we have a house-warming do.
So yes, Laura stayed over Friday to Saturday, Maddy joined us on Saturday, and Leeanne (abusing my proximity to High Wickham) joined us Saturday, departing today. A right hotchpotch of friends, I tell you. Leeanne got to join us on our jaunt to Clapham for house-hunting, which was probably a bit odd. Then we met up with Peter & Lizzy in Angel for dinner, which was very pleasant. That prompted today's rendezvous, which saw Leeanne, Peter and I trawling through the British Museum looking mainly at stuff from Medieval Europe (I really do love the British Museum. I am such a history geek). It left me really wanting a replica copy of the Lewis Chessmen. One day, I tell you.
Leeanne's midday departure was followed by a brief yomp by Peter and I up to the top of Hampstead Heath (which I'm pretty close to). It turns out it's nice and breezy up there so, inspired by some kite-fliers, I'm going to pick up my kite from home when I nip back to Nottingham next weekend for Tom's 21st/to clear out 339 and have a go at losing it up that hill. It's all excitement, I tell you. Mind you, I'm seriously threatening to go to a re-enactment show at Sutton Hoo in three weeks, so it's amazing how quickly you can waste your week.
Okay, time to go have a power nap; the world is tilting nastily before my eyes. Honestly, my balance is shot – it feels like I'm on a boat half the time at the minute. Maybe it's swine flu. :D
I leave you with a fun game I invented driving back after graduation.
Required: A long stretch of road, a vehicle, a can of Red Bull, loud rock music, worrying fatigue.
Aim:
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Wed 15/07/09 – 01:18
Bloggity blog! I've got an internet connection! Quick!
So, I'm back in my room (I'm still paying for it, even if I only plan to sleep in it twice more) in the delightfully rainy Nottingham. I successfully drove up here in just over two hours (without my wheeled contraption of choice turning into a fireball, remarkably) in blinding sunshine to unnecessarily loud old-school rock, which is rapidly turning into a hobby of sorts and is surprisingly fun. If only there was air conditioning and petrol didn't cost money, it would be awesome.
I digress, though. I'm here until tomorrow afternoon for, in case you somehow can't guess, my graduation ceremony. I expect it'll be comprised of 2% collecting degree, 98% hand-clapping and wishing the room wasn't so warm. On the plus side: GOWNS. If you've seen my winter wardrobe at all then you'll know I'm a sucker for billowy, pretentious outfits in the spectrum of grey, so I'm obviously terribly overexcited at the prospect of flapping around in a black tent for the morning in a silly hat. No really, I'm that sad. And smiling at the notion as I type. Yes.
The parents are being summoned for the occasion (My sister will spend the ceremony on top of a mountain. In the rain. In Wales. Poor thing.), but that's hardly news, as Dad in particular practically live in Nottingham these days with his work on Jubilee campus and CCAN (it'll apparently be open soon – honest). I'll let you know how it goes, but afterward I'm hauling back down south to my futon and noodle-based dinners.
The 'job' is okay. Myself and two other girls are spending ten til six on weekdays doing a process called 'logging'. This entails watching unedited camera footage, known as 'rushes', for documentaries they're doing, and then writing down what happens in it – what the cameras are doing every time they change angle, what can be seen, what's being said and when every thing happens. It's laborious and slow (it took me six hours to go through one hour of rushes today), but essential for putting together the good bits later on to make an actual programme in the editing suite, which we might get to look at later on. It's a bit tiresome, but I'm happy doing it because you have to pay attention constantly, and that keeps my brain ticking over, stopping my consciousness from imploding with boredom. This is a Good Thing. What's not good is that I spent seven hours of Monday watching horrifically graphic footage of a breast reduction. Sure, you become desensitised after the first twenty minutes, but I don't want to make a habit of typing 'Close-up of doctor stitching nipples.' Ick.
The lack of money is starting to bother me though. It looks like I'll only get expenses bac at the end, and it's costing me £4.40 in tube fare alone every day, never mind lunch and stuff. Or rent. Bah. So, I'm making an effort to offer my soul to anyone who'll employ me. Unfortunately, it looks like everyone else is as well, but we'll see how it goes.
Am liking the flat, though. Sure, I've still got no fridge because they couldn't fit it in the lift, and there's no bed, sofa or internet yet, but it's a nice space (art deco – 1930s build) and the views really are absolutely stunning. I enjoy just staring out the windows over central London. I'll try and take some photos to illustrate. Laura, Maddy and the elusive Boyd are coming down on Saturday to see if it's viable for us, and look at other houses. It'll be chaos.
And now, to make the most of being in an actual bed. *Sprawls*
(That said, the futon is kind of comfy...)
So, I'm back in my room (I'm still paying for it, even if I only plan to sleep in it twice more) in the delightfully rainy Nottingham. I successfully drove up here in just over two hours (without my wheeled contraption of choice turning into a fireball, remarkably) in blinding sunshine to unnecessarily loud old-school rock, which is rapidly turning into a hobby of sorts and is surprisingly fun. If only there was air conditioning and petrol didn't cost money, it would be awesome.
I digress, though. I'm here until tomorrow afternoon for, in case you somehow can't guess, my graduation ceremony. I expect it'll be comprised of 2% collecting degree, 98% hand-clapping and wishing the room wasn't so warm. On the plus side: GOWNS. If you've seen my winter wardrobe at all then you'll know I'm a sucker for billowy, pretentious outfits in the spectrum of grey, so I'm obviously terribly overexcited at the prospect of flapping around in a black tent for the morning in a silly hat. No really, I'm that sad. And smiling at the notion as I type. Yes.
The parents are being summoned for the occasion (My sister will spend the ceremony on top of a mountain. In the rain. In Wales. Poor thing.), but that's hardly news, as Dad in particular practically live in Nottingham these days with his work on Jubilee campus and CCAN (it'll apparently be open soon – honest). I'll let you know how it goes, but afterward I'm hauling back down south to my futon and noodle-based dinners.
The 'job' is okay. Myself and two other girls are spending ten til six on weekdays doing a process called 'logging'. This entails watching unedited camera footage, known as 'rushes', for documentaries they're doing, and then writing down what happens in it – what the cameras are doing every time they change angle, what can be seen, what's being said and when every thing happens. It's laborious and slow (it took me six hours to go through one hour of rushes today), but essential for putting together the good bits later on to make an actual programme in the editing suite, which we might get to look at later on. It's a bit tiresome, but I'm happy doing it because you have to pay attention constantly, and that keeps my brain ticking over, stopping my consciousness from imploding with boredom. This is a Good Thing. What's not good is that I spent seven hours of Monday watching horrifically graphic footage of a breast reduction. Sure, you become desensitised after the first twenty minutes, but I don't want to make a habit of typing 'Close-up of doctor stitching nipples.' Ick.
The lack of money is starting to bother me though. It looks like I'll only get expenses bac at the end, and it's costing me £4.40 in tube fare alone every day, never mind lunch and stuff. Or rent. Bah. So, I'm making an effort to offer my soul to anyone who'll employ me. Unfortunately, it looks like everyone else is as well, but we'll see how it goes.
Am liking the flat, though. Sure, I've still got no fridge because they couldn't fit it in the lift, and there's no bed, sofa or internet yet, but it's a nice space (art deco – 1930s build) and the views really are absolutely stunning. I enjoy just staring out the windows over central London. I'll try and take some photos to illustrate. Laura, Maddy and the elusive Boyd are coming down on Saturday to see if it's viable for us, and look at other houses. It'll be chaos.
And now, to make the most of being in an actual bed. *Sprawls*
(That said, the futon is kind of comfy...)
Friday, July 10, 2009
Sat 11/07/09 – 02:07
Pretentious and nonsensical title chosen, I thus begin my long-plotted blog. I apologise in advance for being dull, but I decided that a blog would be the best way to keep people updated with what I'm up to – I imagine the coming year may be somewhat chaotic. Apologies also for not using LiveJournal to those with accounts there, but I've used it before and never much cared for it, I'm afraid.
It's pretty early in the morning as I write, though I may not get round to posting this until tomorrow morning when I rise once more. I've been attempting (and failing) to remove wall decorations whilst watching the last episode of Torchwood (which I quite enjoyed in a mindless way) for the last hour, trying to use my fingernails to prise the many pins out of the walls. I gave up on that, though, and opted to lever them out with a throwing knife instead. Useful things. The state of packing is not great, though, to be honest. I'm getting there, but I always forget just how much stuff I have and thus never have enough boxes to move all the tat, which is why I've stopped. Nonetheless, almost everything is sorted for London tomorrow, bar a few bits and pieces, which is the important part. The rest will likely wait until Wednesday afternoon, or possibly the 25th/26th, when I'm back for Tom's birthday and the final clean-up of 339. Joy.
So, London. Meeting Maddy's parents (who are kindly letting me rent their 3-bed flat remarkably cheaply at four days notice) at the flat at 4pm tomorrow. It's in Highgate, which is as convenient as could be expected, and looks very pleasant indeed. The only issue is that there's nothing in the flat except, I am told, a microwave, a television, a cooker, pans and curtains. The fridge arrives on Monday, the carpets on Tuesday, the Internet on Thursday and the beds...some time. Thus, I am taking a beanbag in lieu of a sofa, and today went on a voyage to buy an Ikea futon mattress thing (the actual futon was expensive and not really necessary) to sleep on. Lovely. Still, I can't complain considering how little hassle this all is to me. I am very grateful indeed!
The purpose of hauling myself down there at such short notice is for unpaid work experience, alas. The job interview I went to on Tuesday yielded good feedback (“We'll be keeping your details, and we may call you if one of the others turns out to be unsuitable.”), but no actual job. Considering my abject lack of experience as a runner (a media monkey, not an athlete), however, I think it went pretty well, especially when I know that over 130 people applied for just two positions. Welcome to the media, baby. Fortunately, a company rang me up out of the blue to offer me this work experience doing basically the same job later that day, and whilst it's unpaid for about three weeks, it does give me experience that could make the difference next time round. Companies like runners who have experience, so it's a bit of a vicious, exclusive circle for newcomers. We'll see how it goes. I'm appallingly optimistic.
That'll do for bringing you up to speed. I'm going to sleep. If theDeathmobile car doesn't explode tomorrow on the way down, I'll endeavour to find an internet cafe or something in the next few days to let you know how the futon is working out. Also the Tube. The sweaty, sweaty Tube. I may remove the jumpers from my luggage.
It's pretty early in the morning as I write, though I may not get round to posting this until tomorrow morning when I rise once more. I've been attempting (and failing) to remove wall decorations whilst watching the last episode of Torchwood (which I quite enjoyed in a mindless way) for the last hour, trying to use my fingernails to prise the many pins out of the walls. I gave up on that, though, and opted to lever them out with a throwing knife instead. Useful things. The state of packing is not great, though, to be honest. I'm getting there, but I always forget just how much stuff I have and thus never have enough boxes to move all the tat, which is why I've stopped. Nonetheless, almost everything is sorted for London tomorrow, bar a few bits and pieces, which is the important part. The rest will likely wait until Wednesday afternoon, or possibly the 25th/26th, when I'm back for Tom's birthday and the final clean-up of 339. Joy.
So, London. Meeting Maddy's parents (who are kindly letting me rent their 3-bed flat remarkably cheaply at four days notice) at the flat at 4pm tomorrow. It's in Highgate, which is as convenient as could be expected, and looks very pleasant indeed. The only issue is that there's nothing in the flat except, I am told, a microwave, a television, a cooker, pans and curtains. The fridge arrives on Monday, the carpets on Tuesday, the Internet on Thursday and the beds...some time. Thus, I am taking a beanbag in lieu of a sofa, and today went on a voyage to buy an Ikea futon mattress thing (the actual futon was expensive and not really necessary) to sleep on. Lovely. Still, I can't complain considering how little hassle this all is to me. I am very grateful indeed!
The purpose of hauling myself down there at such short notice is for unpaid work experience, alas. The job interview I went to on Tuesday yielded good feedback (“We'll be keeping your details, and we may call you if one of the others turns out to be unsuitable.”), but no actual job. Considering my abject lack of experience as a runner (a media monkey, not an athlete), however, I think it went pretty well, especially when I know that over 130 people applied for just two positions. Welcome to the media, baby. Fortunately, a company rang me up out of the blue to offer me this work experience doing basically the same job later that day, and whilst it's unpaid for about three weeks, it does give me experience that could make the difference next time round. Companies like runners who have experience, so it's a bit of a vicious, exclusive circle for newcomers. We'll see how it goes. I'm appallingly optimistic.
That'll do for bringing you up to speed. I'm going to sleep. If the
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)