12 July 2007

What a week

Phew. My week has been somewhat disjointed to say the least, so many apples for not posting since last Friday.

To bring you right up to speed, I went for drinks (well, a single diet coke and a glass of free bubbly) with The Girls at The Pub on Friday to celebrate Shiv's birthday. Lovely evening, but would have been somewhat more enjoyable for me if I'd had enough money in my purse to buy the birthday girl a drink. And myself a bucket of wine.

Saturday involved waiting in for the boiler man to come and fix something that wasn't, as it turned out, broken at all. Taking some clothes that are now too big for me to Oxfam. Doing a pump class. Epilating my hairy legs. Doing three loads of laundry. Ironing. Fake tanning. Hoovering. Completing the stupid Ernst & Young forms. Food shopping.... in Iceland, for cheap lard. Spending hours surfing the internet for a BLOODY JOB. Blah Blah Blah.

Sunday I did a conditioning class at the gym. Walked a bit. Sat in the park next to the tramps and the wino's (its amazing how much I relate to those sad fuckers now), reading my fabulous proof of the latest Jane Green - "Second Chance".

Monday started bright and early with an appointment at an agency to register for work, then an interview at a publishers, then a conditioning class at the gym.

Tuesday started equally as early with a Pump class, followed by more hours that I ever imagined possible at the Housing Benefit Office; filling in more forms and trying to explain to more people who JUST DON'T GET IT, that I haven't been paid since 31st May and I'm skint and don't have a job, but YES, I did work for the month of June, but NO I didn't get paid for it. And NO I haven't received any redundancy, or notice period or holiday in lieu. And NO, I don't have a secret stash of money I can tap into to pay my rent. Or council tax. Or gas, electric or water bills... Or buy my travel card to get to the interviews I'm desperately running around London to attend. Or buy fresh food. Or Tampax. Or my pension. Or my contents insurance. Or my TV licence. Or my mobile phone bill....

Feeling thoroughly humiliated and drained I then went to my Mums and sat on her sofa and bawled my eyes out for a while.

Wednesday I just couldn't be arsed to go to the gym, but did have another interview up town...and bumped into Gary Linekar. The two are in no way related.

And then today I did a Pump class this morning, then sat in the JobCentre+ (what's the + stand for by the way?!) to sign on, which basically involves completely ignoring the fact that you have an appointment at an allotted time, and just sitting on a hard bench waiting for someone to mumble Zara Pippa about 45 minutes AFTER your appointment, incoherently asking you what you have done to gain employment and have you considered applying to work at the local newspaper in the classified section, cause that's apparently what the world of publishing involves if you work at the JobCentre+ ....

I then hopped, skipped and jumped back up town for the millionth time this week for a second interview at the publishers, and I'm now killing time/updating my blog whilst waiting to have drinks (tap water for me please!), with some of my lovely old mates from The Big W.

Boo has said I can use his tinternet tomorrow, so hopefully I might have some time to do a far better post all about the food and the food and the food I've eaten this week and what not... but until then - have you tried Pret's Carrot Cake?!


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