I’m off tomorrow for a week at the coast. Mmmm. Holiday.
I plan to read a book a day, drink a selection of local real ale, eat fish and chips and sit in front of the open fire.
Hopefully, when I get back there will be a generous offer on my flat and a job waiting for me. In the meantime I am going to forget all about it and relax.
Number of viewings for my flat booked in the last 2 days: 5
Number of people who have viewed my flat: 0
Number of embarrassing items left in my car when it went for its MOT: 2 carrier bags full
Number of recruitment agencies I have signed up with: 1
Number of recruitment agencies that have put me forward for temp jobs (like I asked): 0
Number of potential employers when I become unemployed next week: 0
Number of hours it should have taken to get back from Oxford: 1.5
Number of hours it actually took: 2.5
Number of pounds my bank account is currently overdrawn by: [classified]
Number of spiders my agorophobic cat has caught and eaten: 1 (keep going kitty and you’ll be outside soon!)
Number of times that God has saved me from spiralling into a crater of misery and self-pity and given me a shred of hope to cling to: too many to mention
Actually, further to my previous post. All the volunteers haven’t cancelled. There is one who I can’t get hold of and I don’t know if they will turn up or not.
I am waiting.
There is only so much that one can do on facebook/wiblog/stuffonmycat. Sigh.
[momentary pause while the phone rings]
Oooh – just got the all clear to go home. Hurrah! I’m off for for some comfort food, rubbish telly and an early night. Suddenly life is somewhat cheerier.
Ever had one of those days when things seem to conspire against you?
I arrived at work on my penultimate day with just enough time to put down my bag, check the emails and head off to pick up a heavily pregnant client for a meeting (with a friendly breastfeeding counsellor) back at the office. Thought I’d better phone said client before leaving to check that she was awake. It turned out she was in hospital on the maternal assessment ward (turned out to be Braxton Hicks contractions). I then attempted to phone the breastfeeding counsellor to cancel. It turned out that the key to the cupboard with her phone number in was locked. There are two keys. One with a colleague who is currently in Scotland, the other with a colleague currently in Gambia. Oh dear.
Finally sorted it out, went to the hospital to visit my client, not for a friendly chat, but because I am her support worker and wanted to check she was ok. So, after a long walk in the (slightly unexpected) heat, I arrived at the hospital only to be refused entry to the ward. Visiting hours weren’t for another two hours! Oh dear again.
I have now fannied about at work for several hours, waiting for our trusty volunteers to arrive to begin outreach at 8pm. They have all just cancelled. I could have gone home several hours ago, put my feet up and had a nice cup of tea. Sob.
I think I should have married a rich man and become a lady what lunches.
This is the last week in my job (sad but relieved)
Today my lovely flat is going up for sale (sad but excited)
I would like please a brand spanking new job that is neither boring nor stressful, pays a reasonable wage and a substantial clothing allowance.
Also I would like a large shiny house with many rooms and a pretty garden for very cheap (and with lovely neighbours who will bring cake).
Its taken me a long time to get started on this blog, mainly because I couldn’t decide on a background. Its an important decision. It could set the whole tone for my blog and I really wouldn’t want to get off on the wrong foot.
So here I am. And I have pegs.